5 - Together To Join (2 page)

“If you’re not trying to kill me, it shouldn’t hurt. See?”

He went rigid as she lowered a hand to his brow and fussed, removing hair that needed trimming. Garrick usually wore his hair cropped close. Military style. That way, it didn’t interfere in a fight. Or a hunt. Garrick watched her, slowly untensing as her touch did little more than alleviate and soothe, and then it salved. And before he knew it, he was pulling in great lungs full of air, as well.

“They don’t teach you boys much, do they?”

“I’m going to kill you, lady.”

She sighed, sending a whiff of air all over him that did more than soothe. It raised gooseflesh. And then it raised something worse. He’d known she was beautiful, and he’d known she was winsome. He hadn’t known she was sexy as hell. He clenched at his buttocks to keep it to himself. He kept the cursing to himself, as well.

“Can we call a truce?”

“No.”

“Can we call a draw then?”

“No.”

“You’re stubborn.”

“I’m going to put a stake through your heart. Then we’ll talk stubborn.”

“You want to try again, do you?”

Garrick immediately tensed. He couldn’t prevent her from knowing. She had the one hand on his forehead, and another had somehow managed to reach his chest, where the palm caressed and sent even more blood flow to his groin.

“You can’t kill your mate, Garrick.”

“Oh,
hell
no, lady. No, and another no.”

She giggled and then she scraped her fingernails across his chest, drawing a trail of blood that should hurt. It didn’t. It felt erotic and hastened things he was working to control. Garrick would’ve groaned except she’d know how little control he had over his own lust at the moment. With a vampire who was still speared through the shoulder by his arrow. It was insane.

“You can’t change it, Garrick. It’s not open for discussion. It’s not negotiable. Every vampire has a mate. It’s fated. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

“Listen lady—”

“Angelique.”

“What?”

“My name is Angelique du Previer. From the area around Reims.”

“You’re named after an angel?”

“You don’t like my name?”

“You’re no angel, lady. It’s a travesty of the word.”

“There are not many angels in your city of Los Angeles, either. What of it? Are you going to help me with this, or not?”

She was pulling at the arrow protruding from her shoulder, releasing a thin stream of blood onto her clothing, and making every bit of the itch turn into a scorch of existence. He had to reach out and stop her, and the moment he did, the pain muted. He held his breath as the world didn’t rock. It didn’t even sway. She might be right. If he wasn’t trying to kill her, he might be able to work with this.

“You can’t pull it out.”

“Well, how do I get it out?”

“You don’t. You leave it in and suffer. That’s what you do.”

She sucked in on both cheeks and looked at him, and then moved to pull at it again, only this time she was twisting and turning it, and Garrick was writhing with the agony before she quit. He lay on his side, panting with the experience and watching her with the same unblinking stare she gave him. He had to hand it to her, though. She knew how to kill an erection.

“Are you ready to help me now? Or you want some more demonstration?”

There was nothing for it. This Angelique had him in the palm of her hand and she was playing with him. That arrow had to come out so he could think about this. Mull it. Decide what he could do. And the only way to get it out was through her back, sealing all the little slivers back into the arrow shaft as it ripped out of her. It had to be done quickly and brutally. And he was probably going to be hit with lightning again.

He grabbed for the ax and slammed it at the arrow, sending it right out her back to a resultant whoosh of blood. He got a glimpse of shock from her wide eyes at the exact moment the voltage hit him. Garrick flew through the thickets, snapping them like toothpicks before glancing off a tree to land in a heap, where he had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop the instant impulse to weep. Realms of shivers accompanied the emotion, and he sent them back. If this was his future, he’d rather die.

He felt her nearing him, and refused to look. Not until he had this emotion staunched and any tears sucked back where they came from. And that’s when she repaid all his gallantry by biting him.

CHAPTER TWO

“First things first, Angelique. Don’t panic.”

She hadn’t survived the French Revolution and burning of her family chateau by panicking. Actually…she hadn’t survived it at all. But that was ancient history, and one thing she loved about her past - she could make it anything she wished.

“Take him. Hide him.”

She stopped the whispered words, although they helped calm her shaking. She spoke to herself. It was ingrained and helped protect the façade of perfect aristocratic behavior she hid behind. Right now, it was stupid. Sound carried out here, as though settled atop the very air. She hadn’t cared about that before. She’d wanted this assignment. She loved everything about the Louisiana bayou. The warmth. The steam and mist. The shadows. Everything that now worked against her.

She had to get him hidden, find his weapons, and then get him to her home where it was safe and private. But, first she had to escape. Taking him wasn’t a problem. She’d drained enough blood from him, he was unconscious, but he’d have a partner. He might even have an entire troop with him. Hunters never stalked prey singly. Except…maybe this Garrick fellow did. He acted ballsy enough.

Angelique ran a fingertip along what looked to be very kissable lips…if he set aside his disgust and if they ever got that far. She smiled slightly. She hadn’t a choice in the matter, but
merde
! She was eternally lucky. This time, more than ever. This mate of hers was a massive man. Sculpted. Handsome. Strong. The most lauded of them. The most skilled. The enemy. It was as obscene as it was beautiful.

“What the—? Angel, are you mad? Leave him and run!”

She turned to the newcomer and hissed, showing teeth, and then she recognized Nigel.

“That’s not—. Oh crap. It’s their greatest hunter!”

“I know.”

“Well don’t just sit there, tempting fate. Move! I’ll cover you.”

“No.”

“He already got Alex!”

“I know that, too. I was there.” Angelique turned back to Garrick.

 “Then you know what he’s capable of.”

“Yes.”

“Then run! Fly! I’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you.”

“I’m taking him with me.”

Swamp noises descended: the non-melodic croaking of frogs; constant and annoying chirp of the crickets; gurgling of water. Then Nigel broke in again.

“Okay. I’ll ask. Why would you take him with us?”

“Not us. Me. And you’re to leave. Now. Before the other hunters find you.”

“What do you plan to do to him? Torture?”

“Mate with him.” It wasn’t her choice. She knew right away what he was to her. The moment they touched. It wasn’t voluntary. It wasn’t even sane.

“Oh no. Not him. Their best hunter? Come on, Angelique. You could have anyone. I’ve been after you for decades.”

“Why does everyone think this is optional? Get lost, Nigel. Report in for me. I’m disappearing for a bit.”

“A bit?”

“And a half. Now, go. Quick.”

“Get his transmitter first. Or they’ll track you.”

“Transmitter?”

“I’m in the field because I failed at office protocol. Not because I’m dense. All hunters have a location tracker. Find his. Got to go now. See you around, Angel. Hopefully in one piece.”

Acrid scent filled the air, imbuing the mist all around them with the odor of something unpleasant burning. Nigel immediately took off, crashing through the swamp with more noise than he needed to. Angelique knew why. He was leading the hunters from her.

And her mate.

She didn’t have time to find Garrick’s transmitter. She had to get him hidden first. She’d just have to be lucky again. Garrick was massive. And heavy. If she wasn’t gifted with vampiric strength, she’d have collapsed beneath his mass. She raced through the swamp, swirling vapors atop the water at her pace, peering through inky spots for a cave. A hollow. A depression filled with decaying leaves. Anywhere dark and hidden. There, she’d undress him. And then the ground caved in beneath her.

o0o

“What is this belt made of?”

Cotton or wool filled his head, making the muttering semi-distinct. It was feminine. Soft. Melodic. Teasing fantasies better left buried and forgotten. And he was dreaming.

Garrick swallowed.

“This is the sharpest knife I’ve ever used, and still this belt vexes me. Come along, Angelique. You can do it.”

Angelique.

He was in the care of an angel. Maybe he wasn’t dreaming after all. Female fingers flitted across his belly as she gave up trying to slice at his belt and decided to simply release the catch. Maybe this was an afterlife, and it just might have compensation in here somewhere. Garrick opened an eye to complete blackness. He was surrounded by it. He concentrated and dulled his own heartbeat to a background thump of noise, pulling at his vampire senses to bring the sides of a cavern into view. Root-ends kept earth from sliding into the space. The entire area reeked of decay and mold. It was dense and hard to breathe in here. What air there was felt like its own entity as it licked at his skin with wet warmth. Almost like a tongue.

Wait a minute…

Where was his flak jacket? His shirt? His weapons? His boots? He spread the toes on one foot gingerly. He didn’t even have socks on. He’d rarely felt so vulnerable. The feeling got worse as she worked to push what had been thickly woven twill pants from him, rolling him slightly in the process.

“There!”

There?

Garrick tensed involuntarily for what might come next. She had his combat knife, and it was not only capable of removing every stitch of clothing from him, but was perfect for filleting and gutting, too.

“Now…where did you put it?”

“What?”

The word croaked from a dry throat. It was accompanied by a groan. Not from the pain of use, but by giving away his conscious state. He’d been trained better. He must be weaker than he thought.

“Oh. Good. You’re awake. Then maybe you could help me, instead of just lying there.”

“With…what?”

“Finding your transmitter.”

That’s exactly when he knew. This wasn’t an afterlife, it was an earthly hell. And he was in the hands of the vampire lady. Nearly naked and feeling weaker than a babe. About the only thing he had left was his transmitter.

“In…my shirt pocket.”

“I already checked. You have lots of noxious things in your pockets, but nothing that sends a signal.”

“Noxious…?”

“You know very well what I’m talking of. Holy water. Crucifixes. I’d ask what the dirt is for, but I don’t care. Just about everything in every compartment of every pocket held a potion to destroy or incapacitate your victim.”

“What…victim?”

“Me.”

“Oh. Right.” What a joke his life was turning into. She wasn’t the victim here. That much was obvious.

“So where is it?”

“What?”

“Your transmitter.”

“I…don’t know what…you’re talking about.” And he really needed to find some strength. He couldn’t even get a full sentence out.

“Every hunter has a transmitter. To bring others in…for the kill. That’s not going to happen, understand?”

He huffed out a breath that carried amusement.

“I’m going to slice these skin-tight briefs off you next.”

What could be the knife blade touched his thigh, creating ripples of goose bumps in its wake. Garrick reacted without thought, gripping at her wrists to stop her. And then he got the shock feeling again, sending him into an arch of agony as it slammed through him, stopping his heart and making every cell react with pain. His fingers immediately loosened, releasing her, while he fought for breath.

“Silly man.”

Cool fingers slid up his abdomen, sending such relief he nearly wept. Every vestige of pain evaporated at her touch. Garrick relaxed back onto the earth again. She was on her knees, her fingers radiating something that soothed and protected, and healed. He didn’t dare watch. He was afraid to.

“You can’t harm me, remember?”

He grunted.

“That looked like it hurt. Bad?”

“Screw you, lady.”

“Oh, I don’t think that hurts. I mean, I’ve heard it hurts the first time, but probably not as bad as all that.”

Oh no. She did
not
just say that. She couldn’t possibly be a virgin. No. He refused to acknowledge it and ordered his body not to react to it. She was a living corpse. Probably centuries old. It would be like humping the dead to take her. Worse. She was cold. Unattractive. Decaying just like the place she’d taken him to. He wasn’t attracted to her. He couldn’t be. And why the hell did she just have to tell him that?

 
Why is this happening? Why now? And why to me?
He didn’t say it aloud, but she answered anyway and Garrick caught his breath at the surprise.

“You’re my mate, Garrick. It isn’t optional, you know. You need to stop fighting it.”

“What if I…don’t want it?”

He’d say a prayer later. He still had his voice and it didn’t sound like he was going to cry.

“What makes you think I do?”

He stiffened automatically. She chuckled. And the magic of her fingers combined with that little laugh to cause a reaction he silently cursed. He’d give anything to stop how his briefs stretched to accommodate what couldn’t possibly be desire. He did not lust for a dead thing. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. No. Not him. Ever. He was going insane. That’s what this had to be. And then she spoke, stopping his thoughts.

“Who would want such an arrogant, egotistical, stubborn asshole?”

“Ass…hole?”

She giggled again and Garrick tightened everything in his torso to prevent the stirring that was happening right in front of her. It didn’t work. That’s what came of having only thin cotton/spandex thigh-length briefs covering him.