Lover Mine

TWENTY-ONE

As Rehv’s Bentley pulled off Route 149 North and eased onto a narrow dirt road, John leaned forward toward the windshield. The headlights hit bare tree trunks as the sedan snaked closer and closer to the river, the landscape overgrown and unwelcoming.

The small hunting cabin that was revealed was absolutely, positively nothing worth noticing. Small, dark, and unassuming, with a detached garage, it was rustic, but in perfect condition.

He had the car door open before the Bentley was in park and he was walking for the front entrance before Rehv was out from behind the wheel. The overriding sense of dread he got was actually a good sign. He’d felt the same thing up at the symphath camp and it made sense that she would protect her private quarters with a similar force field.

The sound of his boots was loud in his ears as he crossed the packed earth of the drive and then all went quiet as he hit the scruffy brown grass of the shallow lawn. He didn’t knock, but reached for the knob and willed the lock free.

Except... it didn’t budge.

“You’re not going to be able to get in there with your head.” Rehv came up with a copper key, put the thing to use, and opened the way.

As the stout, solid door was pushed aside, John frowned into the darkness and cocked his head, expecting an alarm to go off.

“She doesn’t believe in them,” Rehv said quietly—before catching John as he went to rush in. On a louder note, the male called out, “Xhex? Xhex? Put the gun down—it’s me and John.”

His voice didn’t sound right somehow, John thought.

And there was no reply.

Rehv hit the lights and released John’s arm as they both went inside. The kitchen was nothing but a stretch of galley with the bare essentials: gas oven, older refrigerator, stainless-steel sink that was functional, not chic. But everything was spotless and there was no clutter at all. No mail, no magazines. No weapons left out.

Musty. The air was still and musty.

Across the way, there was a single large room with a bank of windows that faced the water. Furniture was minimal: nothing but two wicker chairs, a rattan couch, and a short table.

Rehv walked right through, heading for a single closed door to the right. “Xhex?”

Again with that voice. And then the male put his palm on the jamb and leaned in to the panels, closing his eyes.

On a shudder, Rehv’s huge shoulders lowered.

She wasn’t there.

John strode forward, and went for the handle, pushing his way into her bedroom. Empty. And so was the bathroom beyond.

“Goddamn it.” Rehv turned on his heel and strode off. When a door slammed on the river side of the cabin, John figured the guy had gone out onto the porch and was staring at the water.

John cursed in his head as he looked around. Everything was neat and tidy. Nothing out of place. No windows cracked for fresh air or doors that had been recently opened.

The fine dust on the knobs and the fastenings told him that.

She might have been here, but she was gone now. And if she had come, she hadn’t stayed long or done much, because he could detect nothing of her scent.

He felt like he’d lost her all over again.

Christ, he’d thought that her being alive would be enough to carry him through—but the idea she was somewhere on the planet and yet not with him was strangely crippling. Plus he felt blinded by the situation; he still didn’t know the hows and whats and wheres of any of it.

Flat out sucked, to be honest.

Eventually, he went out to join Rehv on the little porch. Grabbing his pad, he scribbled quickly and prayed to hell the symphath could understand where he was coming from.

Rehv looked over his shoulder and read what John held up. After a moment, he said, “Yeah. Sure. I’ll just tell them she wasn’t here and you came with me to go eat at iAm’s place. It’ll buy you a good three, four hours of space minimum.”

John put his palm over his pec and bowed deeply.

“Just don’t go out fighting. I don’t need to know where you’re going, that’s your biz. But if you get yourself killed, I got ninety- nine problems and you’re the biggest one of them.” Rehv looked back out to the river. “And don’t worry about her. She’s done this once before. This is the second time she’s been... taken away like that.”

John’s hand snatched out and grabbed hard onto the male’s forearm. Rehv didn’t even flinch... then again, there were rumors he couldn’t feel anything because of what he did to control his symphath side.

“Yup. This is number two. She and Murhder had been going together—” As John’s fangs made an appearance, Rehv smiled a little. “That’s long passed. No need to worry there. But she ended up heading to the colony for family reasons. They played her, though, and wouldn’t let her out. When Murhder went up to get her, the symphaths snatched him as well, and shit got critical. I had to make a bargain to get them both out, but her family sold her at the last second, right out from under my nose.”

John swallowed hard and signed without thinking. To who?

“Humans. She got herself free, though, just like she did this time. And then she went away for a while.” Now Rehv’s amethyst eyes flashed. “She’d always been tough, but after whatever those humans did to her, she got hard.”

When, John mouthed.

“Some twenty years ago.” Rehv resumed staring out at the water. “FYI, she wasn’t kidding in that message. She’s not going to appreciate anyone coming in and being her hero with Lash. She’s going to have to do that herself. You want to help the situation? Let her come to you when she’s ready— and stay out of her way.”

Yeah, well, she probably wasn’t going to be in a hurry to text his ass, John thought. And as for the Lash thing? He wasn’t sure he could let that one go. Even for her.

To cut off his own thinking, John put out his palm. The two of them met chest-to-chest in a brief hug and then John dematerialized.

When he took form, he was back at the Xtreme Park, behind the shed, looking out over the empty ramps and bowls. The head drug pusher wasn’t back. No skating, either. Both made sense. Raid the night before with a shitload of cops coming? To say nothing of the bullet shower?

Place was going to be a ghost town for a while.

John leaned against rough wood, his senses alert. He was aware of time passing, both because of the position of the moon pinwheeling in an arc overhead, and because his brain downshifted from manic spin to a more reasonable churn. Which still sucked but was easier to sit with.

She was out and he didn’t even know what condition she was in. Was she hurt? Did she need to feed? Did—

Right. Time to stop playing that loop.

And he probably should take off. Wrath had been pretty damned clear about that no-fighting-without-Qhuinn business and this would still be considered a hot spot for the enemy.

Abruptly, he realized where he had to go.

Pushing himself out of his lean, he paused and looked around with a frown. The sensation of being watched, of being followed, cloaked him once again—just like it had back at that tat shop.

Tonight, however, he just didn’t have the energy to support a good dose of paranoia, so he simply dematerialized, figuring whoever or whatever it was would either track him again or he’d lose them in the ether—and he didn’t care which it would be.

He was pretty fucking worn-out.

When he took form again, he was a mere handful of blocks from where he’d done the number on that lesser the night before. From the inner pocket of his leather jacket, he took out a copper key that was just like the one Rehv had put to use on the hunting cabin.

He’d had the thing for about a month and a half. Xhex had given it to him the night he had told her she could trust him with her symphath secret, and like her cilices, he took it with him wherever he went.

Ducking under the stairs of a brownstone, he inserted the sliver of metal and opened the door. The lights in the basement hall were motion-activated and the stretch of whitewashed stone was instantly illuminated.

He was careful to lock up behind himself and then he went down to the only door.

She had given him sanctuary in this private place once before. Had granted him access to her basement room when he had needed to be alone. And when he’d taken advantage of the hospitality, it had led to her taking his virginity.

She’d refused to kiss him, though.

The same key worked in the door to the bedroom, the locking mechanism shifting smoothly. As he swung the metal panels wide, the light came on and he stepped in—

John died a little at what he saw on the bed: His heart and breath stopped, his brain waves ceased, his blood froze in his veins.

Xhex’s bare-naked body was curled up on the sheets.

As the room was flooded with illumination, her hand tightened on the gun that lay flat on the mattress and was pointed at the door.

She didn’t have the strength to lift either her head or the weapon, but he was highly confident she could pull that trigger.

Raising up his arms and showing his palms, he stepped to the side and kicked the door shut to protect her.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “John...”

A single, bloodred tear pooled in the eye he could see and he watched it slowly ease over the bridge of her nose and drop onto the pillow.

Her hand retreated from the weapon and went to her face, moving inch by inch, as if it took all she had in her to draw it upward. She covered herself the only way she was able, her shield of palm and fingers hiding her tears from him.

She was marked all over with welts and bruises in various stages of healing and she’d lost so much weight, her bones seemed about to break through her flesh. Her skin was gray instead of a healthy pink and her natural scent was nearly nonexistent.

She was dying.

The horror of it all weakened his knees to the point that he listed and had to catch himself back against the door.

But even as he wobbled, his mind kicked into gear. Doc Jane needed to come look at her and Xhex needed to feed.

They didn’t have a lot of time left.

If she was going to live, he was going to have to take charge here.

John ripped off his leather jacket and yanked up his sleeve as he headed to her. The first thing he did was gently cover her nakedness by folding the top sheet across her. The second was shoving his cocked wrist right up to her mouth... and waiting for her instincts to take over.

Her mind might not want him, but her body was not going to be able to resist what he had to offer.

Survival always won out over matters of the heart. He was living proof of it.