Nerves, from the tense conversation with Val and from the anticipation of seeing Josh, turned her stomach into a churning cauldron. But when she saw Josh smiling at her from a table, she wondered why she’d been anxious.
Something about that devastating smile just made her go all mushy inside. She’d never been one for tattoos, but the swirling design on his face suited him, with its angular twists and whorls and dark, sharp edges. One pointed end kissed the very corner of his mouth, and she pictured herself putting her lips to his and following the tattoo until it ended at his fingertips.
He stood—awkwardly, almost as though doing so was an afterthought—and waited for her to sit before taking his own chair again. He was already halfway through a glass of whiskey, and he’d ordered her one as well. Very thoughtful.
She downed it. “I called Val.”
“Did you tell him you have demons after you and your artifact?” He took a swig of his drink, and as his throat muscles worked the liquor down, Serena realized for the first time that a man’s neck could be damned sexy. Maybe she could have one of those dreams like she’d had last night, only this time, she could be the vampire.
“Yes, I told him.” She shot him a wry look. “So your blackmail material is ruined.”
His grin made her pulse leap. “Don’t need it. Now you want to hang out with me all on your own.”
“Are you even aware of how cocky you are?”
“Do I really need to answer that?” He stroked his long fingers up and down the glass, and she suddenly wanted him to do the same to her. After a moment, he pushed the whiskey at her. “I think you need this more than I do. What did Val say?”
“He wants me to come home.”
“Are you going to go?”
“Heck no. Val’s paranoid.”
“Maybe he’s smart.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not you, too.”
He leaned back in his chair, his sinfully toned body sprawled out as though he didn’t have a care in the world, but the way his alert gaze kept checking out their surroundings said otherwise. She got the impression that a gnat entering the dining car wouldn’t escape his notice.
“So… what’s his story? Why does he act more like a father than a boss?”
She watched the liquor in the glass slosh around from the motion of the train. “He was a friend of my mom’s. After she died, he kept in contact with me, encouraged my love of archaeology. He’s an archaeologist,” she explained. “I went to Yale, where he taught, but college turned out not to be my thing. I was getting sick of school, ready to drop out, and he hired me for his private archaeology foundation. He offered me a place to stay at his mansion, and I would have been stupid to turn it down.”
Josh’s eyes narrowed into slits. “What’s the catch?”
“Catch?”
She could have sworn she heard a low snarl come from his side of the table before he spoke.
“No man offers a tight young bod like yours a place to stay without wanting something in return.”
Tight bod? She laughed. “Trust me, he has no interest in me. Not like that. You said it yourself: He’s like a father.”
“Why?” he repeated.
She shrugged. “I think it’s partly because we have a lot in common.” Namely, she was the only person working for him who knew the truth about his and David’s Aegis connections, and he was one of only a handful of people who knew the truth about her. “And partly, it’s because he’s kind of felt obligated to watch out for me.”
“What does your real dad have to say about that?”
“I never knew him.”
“Was he a tomcat who ran around impregnating every female he saw, and your mother was unlucky enough to get taken in by him?”
“Do I sense some paternal issues?”
“Nope.”
His overly laid-back tone gave him away—he was lying, but Serena didn’t push. “Well, no issues here, either. My mom couldn’t conceive naturally, so Pops was a sperm donor—literally.” She pushed the glass of whiskey back at him, because it was obvious that now he needed it more than she did. “I miss my mom, though. What about you? Do you have any family?”
“Two brothers. Both older. Three baby nephews.”
“Three? Wow. I’ll bet they’re adorable.”
He downed the liquor. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Do they live far away?”
“Not really.”
“So… do you want children of your own?” When he peered into his empty glass and didn’t answer, she murmured, “I’m sorry. That’s too personal.”
“S’okay.” The train had slowed to a crawl, and he looked out the window at a shepherd with a herd of goats. “I’m not capable of raising a kid.”
“Of course you are. Kids don’t come with instructions—everyone learns as they go.”
“Trust me, I have no business being in a child’s life.”
His earlier comment came back to her. “Does this have something to do with your father?”
“Didn’t have one.”
“What about your mother?”
His bitter laughter rang out. “She wasn’t exactly a shining example of parenthood.”
Serena took his hand in hers. “A lot of mothers aren’t what they should be.”
He pulled his hand away as though he suddenly couldn’t bear to be touched. “Do a lot of mothers keep their children in cages and torture them?”
Serena stopped breathing. “Tell me that cage is metaphorical.”
“It was a cage in the basement.” His voice dropped to a low, tense growl. “And if you can conceive of the torture, she did it. Fun was had by all.”
Serena had no idea what to say. Didn’t want to imagine it or believe that things like that truly happened. Her life had been blessed… with the exception of her mother’s death.
“That’s… horrible,” she finally managed.
“Fuck.” Josh scrubbed a hand over his face. “Let’s just trash all that, ’kay?”
Except there was no putting that particular cat back in the bag. How could a mother do that to a child, and how could a child come out of an experience like that and still be whole?
“What about your brothers?”
“Why?”
She blinked. “Why what?”
“Why do you want to know about them? About me?”
“Because I like you.”
Surprise and another emotion she couldn’t name flitted across his face before he closed his eyes, as though he couldn’t decide if he wanted her to like him or not. “Different mothers,” he said, his voice so gravelly she barely understood. “We had different mothers.”
“And where the hell was your father?”
A young couple walked past the table, and he waited for them to take seats on the far side of the car before saying, very quietly, “He’s the one who drove her to it. But her cla—ah, family, hunted him down and killed him a few months after I was born.”
She’d never been speechless before. Ever.
“Look,” he said. “I don’t usually—” He clutched his belly. “I… oh, damn.”
“Josh? What’s wrong?”
“Must be… something I ate.” He lurched to his feet, and she came to hers. “Need to get to my room.”
“Let me help you.”
“No,” he moaned. “I can do it.”
“You can barely stand. Now shut up and let me help.”
One corner of his mouth tipped up in the tiniest of smiles before he sucked in a pained breath and nearly fell over. “Shutting up, ma’am.”
“That must be a first for you.”
“Funny,” he gasped.
The rocking of the train didn’t help his balance as she guided him to the sleeping car. She nearly buckled under his weight a couple of times, and he would mutter, “Sorry,” and try to stand upright, which would send him careening into a wall.
“You’re not looking good, Josh. Maybe there’s a doctor on board.”
“No.” His voice was practically a shout, and when she flinched in surprise, he lowered his voice. “No. This has… happened before.”
She wanted to argue, but he seemed adamant, and besides, they’d arrived at his room. His hand was shaking so badly he couldn’t get his fingers into the handle slot in the door. When he cursed softly and gave up, just resting his head against the door, her heart nearly broke. He was powerful enough to break the thing down, but opening it normally was beyond his ability.
Wordlessly, she opened the door and helped him inside the tiny compartment.
The seats had been made into a bed already, and he collapsed onto it with a thud. A shudder wracked his body, followed by violent shivers. “C-cold.”
She palmed his forehead, which was on fire. How had he gone from merely warm to inferno in a matter of seconds? Something was seriously wrong. Quickly, she grabbed a blanket from the top bunk and covered him.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to my room to get another blanket.”
He didn’t seem to hear her, but the sound of his teeth chattering followed her all the way down the hall.
Wraith waited until Serena closed the door behind her to roll ungracefully off the bed and drag his duffel from beneath it. His stomach heaved and his muscles had locked up so hard he could barely move. Motherfucking poison was kicking his ass
It took forever to open his bag and find the medic kit. He spilled half of his pills but didn’t care. He finally swallowed the three he needed—one painkiller, one antibiotic, and one anti-seizure capsule. The painkiller wouldn’t actually work for the pain—for vampires, oral painkillers needed to be filtered through human blood and ingested to work—but it would reduce his fever.
There was a way to treat the pain—UG’s one human nurse had volunteered to take a high dose of Vicodin, and once it took effect, Shade had drawn as much blood as the human could stand losing. He’d then sealed the blood in small packets for Wraith to drink as needed.
Right now he needed—boy-howdy, he needed—but the effort involved in opening the insulated bag that held the medicated blood and the half-dozen units of food blood E’d packed was beyond his abilities. Instead, he shoved his duffel away and wondered how he was going to climb back onto the mattress.
The door opened, and he groaned as warm arms came around him. He felt himself being lifted, but Serena couldn’t get him onto the bed by herself, so he mustered the last of his strength to drag his sorry, freezing ass up. It was humiliating the way he couldn’t stop shivering, even after she covered him with three blankets.
Agony wracked his insides, and shooting pains stabbed his brain. The poison was eating away at him, killing his insides, just like E said it would. He heard Serena talking, but his hearing had dimmed, so he couldn’t understand. Her tone was enough to soothe him, though, and he just let himself listen to the gentle drone of her voice.
“Wraith?” His name floated down to him. Wraith? No, wishful thinking. She’d called him Josh. But what he wouldn’t give to hear his name on her lips.
Gods, if he wasn’t in so much pain he’d laugh. Clearly, he was delirious. Which was why, when he felt the bed sink and her warm body stretch out next to him, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation. She was fire against his ice, a delicate furnace that eased his shivers almost immediately.
She stroked from his shoulder down to his hand and back up, lulling him, easing the chill and the pain. He didn’t know how long she petted him like that, but three hours later he woke up with her still curled against him, her light, delicate snores as comforting as anything.
She’d stayed with him. She barely knew him, and yet she’d taken care of him, held him, and was now sleeping next to him as if she belonged there.
He almost started shaking again. This time, though, he couldn’t blame the poison. With the exception of his brothers, no one had ever cared for him like that. And even with them, most of the time he suspected they cared more out of obligation than out of affection.
Carefully, so as not to wake her, he rolled over in the narrow bunk to face her. The darkness didn’t hinder his ability to admire the way her hair fanned out over the pillow, a silky curtain of gold. She was so peaceful in her sleep, her breathing soft and steady, her nose scrunching up every once in a while as though she were smelling something delicious in a dream.
He could get into her dreams and find out what she was thinking, like he had last night, but doing so now seemed wrong. An invasion of unforgivable proportions.
What. The. Hell.
He’d never given a shit about “wrong” before. Human morals did not apply to him. But suddenly, he was feeling squeamish about doing what he’d been born to do—get inside a female’s head and seduce the hell out of her.
Idiot.
He should get inside her right now. Get her so hot that when she woke up, she’d still be in a partial dream state, would willingly give herself to him. He was, after all, a predator, and it was time to take down his prey.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated, punched through the barrier between the conscious mind and the subconscious one.
He found her in a bedroom, and he got the impression it was hers, at Val’s guest house. Val. There might not be anything between Serena and the old guy, but he still wanted to rip the dude’s limbs off and beat him with them. Serena was hot, and no way was Val not noticing that.
“Josh?”