Chaos and Moonlight (Order of the Nines Book 1) (15 page)

“She’s hopeful, though, what with Sarah helping now.” He threw back the liquid in his glass and set it down on the end table. “Kalin was actually the one who convinced her to help, you know?”

Rhiannon looked up at him. “I thought you were the one who convinced her.”

“No, no,” Taris shook his head, “I proved to her that we were, you know, real. Kalin convinced her to help.”

“And which one happened first?”

He sucked in a deep breath and rolled his eyes as he pointed to himself. Rhiannon nodded. “So how is it that Kalin managed to talk her into helping after you molested her vasculature?”

“Hey, damn it,” Taris plopped down into the chair he had originally sat in. “I told you why I did that.”

Rhiannon couldn’t help but giggle just a little. “I know, I know. I’m just giving you a hard time. It’s what I do best, darling.” She leaned forward and patted his knee. “It’s what we all do best. So how did she convince her?”

Taris cleared his throat. “She took her to the tombs.”

Rhiannon leaned back again and silently got up to sit on the couch. She leaned forward, placing her head in her hands, her elbows resting firmly on her knees. “You need to know that we all mourned for Hayley. And for Kalin.”

Taris nodded in acknowledgment.

After a few moments of silence, Taris quickly rose from his chair in a rush.

“I suppose we need to tell the others she’s here.” He walked to Rhiannon and held out a hand to her, gently pulling her up to his side. He threw an arm around her shoulder and smiled when he felt her arm go around his waist. “So, where can we find the minions?”

Rhiannon laughed. “Let’s go with the easiest of the three first, shall we?” she asked as they walked out of the room.

“I will never for the life of me understand how you can drink that shit.” Achan threw another dart at the enormous portrait hanging on the wall, shouting over the piano music and not even looking at the party to which he directed his criticism. “It looks like roofing tar. Hell, it tastes like roofing tar.”

Judah stopped tinkling at the keyboard and looked up at the drink in question. He wrapped his long fingers around the frosted pint glass and lifted it to his lips, smirking as he caught a brief hint of the woody Guinness smell.

“It doesn’t surprise me that the concept of discernment and acquired taste escapes you, considering that your favorite show is still
Three’s Company
.” Judah sipped the dark beer and smiled as he set it down.

“Hey, fuck you, man!” Achan threw another dart. “That show defined a generation.” His enormous shoulders flexed underneath his still-bloodstained muscle tee. He brushed his coal-black curls away from his face with a bandaged forearm before throwing another dart, letting out a grunt of satisfaction when it landed square in the middle of the forehead of the portrait’s subject. “Kill shot!” He turned to Judah, fixing his eyes on the second glass of paler beer that sat on the coaster toward the back half of the baby grand. “Besides, Chrissie was hot.”

“Very true,” Judah said with a laugh. “Something about those pigtails and brightly colored spandex makes it all worth it.”

“Amen, Maestro,” Achan said. He raised his glass and met Judah’s, cheersing each other. They brought their drinks to their lips and with a silent ‘Go’ tipped them back, chugging as fast as they could.

Achan set his down on the piano just as Judah was finishing the last drop of his.

“Ha! Beat you again, you woman.”

Judah shook his head. “Man, can’t you take it easy on a guy tonight? I just fished bullet shards out of my shoulder.”

Achan shook his head. “Nope. You lost, you lay off the maudlin shit, and those are the rules, regardless of what you fished out of where.”

Judah reluctantly placed his hands on the keyboard. “You realize how nasty that sounded, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Achan replied, smiling from ear to ear, his almost-black eyes twinkling. “It was completely intentional.”

“Figured,” Judah muttered. “Okay. So what is it this time?”

Achan paced the room and was about to tell him he was in the mood for a little obnoxious Irish drinking music when the door burst wide open.

They both spun around to see Taris and Rhiannon, walking arm and arm.

“Damn the luck,” Achan mumbled.

“It’s just as well,” Judah said, trying to stifle a laugh. “I can’t play all that well with my right hand anyway.”

“Then you should go easy on it in the shower.”

Judah threw the shirt that lay on top of the piano at Achan.

“And you should keep your damned clothes on, too.”

Judah was about to throw his empty glass when Rhiannon managed to pull away from Taris and save it.

“What are you, toddlers?” She set the glass back down onto the piano.

“Use the coaster, please. This piano is old.” Judah jerked the glass away from the black lacquer and clutched it to his bare chest before turning himself around to face Taris. He extended his unoccupied hand out to him, his blue eyes narrowed, and stared at the other male with genuine respect. “Good to see you,” he said as they clasped hands.

“Everything in this house is old. You can’t use that excuse. And it’s good to see you, too, Jude. How’s the arm?” Taris pointed to the bandaged shoulder.

“Oh, it aches a bit, but by tomorrow it’ll be fine. Scarred, no thanks to this idiot, but fine.” Judah nudged his head toward Achan. “Wouldn’t have to deal with it if the comedian over here would have taken care of it for me.”

“Dude, I was not licking your shoulder. Fuck that.” Achan sat down on the piano bench, pulling Rhiannon down to sit next to him. He threw a large arm around her shoulder and leaned in. “He wanted me to lick him. Can you imagine that?”

“I only asked you to do something you have always wanted to do anyway. And technically, I didn’t ask you to lick me, I asked you to lick a rag and wipe my shoulder.” Judah turned completely to Taris again. “Insubordinate to a fault.”

“I can handle being insubordinate,” Achan said with a straight face. “I just wish you would stop trying to make me gay.” Achan cast a somber glance at Taris. “How’s Kalin? Is she doing okay with everything?”

Taris gripped Achan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze before nodding his head. “She’s doing okay, though I’m sure she’d be more than happy to hear from you.”

Achan nodded.

“That’s enough for now, gentlemen,” Rhiannon gently interrupted. “Taris’s doctor friend is here. You need to make yourselves presentable and come downstairs so you can meet her.” She stopped and looked around. “Where’s Zillah?”

Just then, a piercing scream came flooding up the stairwell. It was full of panic, its feminine edge interrupted by the telltale silence that came when it was abruptly stifled. The moment it pierced the atmosphere, Taris started running through the giant music room, heading for the door. Judah, Achan, and Rhiannon all stared at one another for a moment before following him.

“Something tells me I know where she is,” Judah said. “And when Taris finds her, it won’t be pretty.

* * *

“If you want to keep your tongue, you won’t scream again.”

The woman directly in front of Sarah was the definition of menacing, and the fact that she had a steel extension pressed into her chest didn’t help. Her purple eyes beat down with nothing short of murder behind them. Sarah fought the acidic bile that was rising up in her throat. Her heart was pounding at a million miles a minute. She was fighting the urge to cry, but the one rational part of her brain that wasn’t in fight-or-flight mode told her that any noise at all meant pain.

“Who are you?”

Sarah swallowed the fear that was tickling her tongue and started to open her mouth to answer, but was cut short by the sharp pressure of a blade tip being pushed into the skin just above her left breast. She felt a warm wetness trickle down between her shirt and her skin.

“I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. Now, who are you, and what are you doing in this house? How did you get in here?”

“I, um…”

“‘Um’ is not a sufficient answer. I will give you one final chance to tell me why you are here before I rip your throat out with my bare hands.”

Sarah was about to answer when a loud growl pierced the room. It reverberated off the walls, its power causing the fire in the hearth to jolt and flare. It even penetrated into the wood, and in a blur of leather and steel, Sarah saw the woman in front of her fly against the wall. Taris held her up with one hand against the picture-molded panels, his other hand gripping the steel part of the blade that had just been slowly working its way into Sarah’s skin. The woman was clawing at his fingers, another growl radiating from her. The blood from his hand was beginning to track down the sleeve of his trench, landing in fat drops on the Persian rug.

“Taris!”

The male voice from the doorway caused Sarah to shift her attention once again. It was steady, but strong. Sarah fought to focus as two large male bodies entered the room behind Rhiannon.

“Taris, let her go!”

A huge, dark-haired man with a bloody muscle tee stopped directly in front of her, as did Rhiannon. The leaner, blond man took a few steps toward the unyielding Taris.

“Let…me…go,” the woman strained to whisper.

“Why should I, Zillah?” Taris’ voice was dangerous. His words were filtered through the low growl that centered deep within his chest. “You cut her, I can smell her blood. I should kill you where you stand.”

“What is she to you, eh? Just a skinny girl.” The woman against the wall used her booted feet to push up and ease the stranglehold he had on her, only to lose her leverage when Taris pulled her back and slammed her into the wall again.

“She belongs to me, do you hear me? She is MINE.”

Sarah could see the blond man’s shoulders tensing, his breath becoming more and more labored. His fists were beginning to clench down by his sides, and the maroon sunburst star tattoo in the center of his back danced as the muscles beneath it twitched.

“She doesn’t know, Taris. I said let her go!”

Something in the blond’s voice caused Taris to ease his grip on the woman. The growls from the two men that had been echoing in the room slowly began to fade out. He lowered the woman to the floor but jerked his hand holding the blade back, twisting it in his grip. He pushed her with one finger and held the base of her throat.

“Apologize to the good doctor, whom I have brought here to save us from extinction.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed in confusion, then went wide. Her face instantly softened, and when it did, Sarah almost took a breath. She was lovely. Truly lovely. Not in the ethereal way of Rhiannon, but she was truly beautiful in a fierce way. Her brown hair fell from a thick ponytail, giving her face a fresh look. Her eyes, once a murderous royal purple, were now fading into a strange lavender color unlike anything Sarah had ever seen before.

“But—”

“But nothing, Zillah. Apologize now, or I cut you back.”

The woman pursed her lips together and sucked in a breath through her nose. She let it out in a quick burst before ducking under Taris’ arm and stomping past the blond man to stand in front of Sarah.

“I am sorry, truly. I did not know who you were.” She placed a gloved hand over her heart and made a slight bow. “My apologies. I am Zillah, and I am at your service.”

Sarah nodded. “It’s okay,” she managed to whisper.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Rhiannon jumped in. “You people act like this is a funeral or something.” She sat down on the arm of the chair and grabbed Sarah’s hand in hers. “Sarah, I would like you to meet your adoring fan club. That gentleman over there, the one without his damned clothes on, that is Judah.” She pointed to the blond, who tilted his head down in recognition. He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back when she saw his gorgeous blue eyes and handsome face.

“That gigantic horse’s arse over there is Achan.”

“Hey,” he shot back. “Why am I the horse’s ass?”

“Say ‘arse,’ love. It makes you sound less primitive.”

“Oh, fine, fine, I’m the primitive one,” he smiled as he walked toward Sarah. He stretched out a large hand to her but at the last minute instead pulled her out of her chair and enveloped her in his telephone pole arms. “You are awesome, woman. I am so glad you are doing this for us. You are like a god to me, for real.”

“Thank you,” Sarah wheezed from the cradle of his thick black hair. After spinning her around with a deep barrel-chested laugh, he put her back in the chair, staring down at her with a smile. His eyes were as pitch black as his hair. Unlike Judah, who was light colored and packed with lean muscle, Achan was thick and dark, his skin a creamy tan.

“No, thank you,” he smiled at her.

“All right, enough with the romance,” Taris said. “You’re hurt. Let’s seal that cut, and then we can get down to business, okay?” He wasn’t even looking at Sarah when he pulled her out of her chair. “We’ll meet you in the kitchen in ten minutes. Then we can discuss the game plan.”

Without another word from anyone, Taris led Sarah to the nearest bathroom, leaving Judah, Achan, Zillah, and Rhiannon standing in the middle of the Man Room.

“Please tell me he didn’t do what I think he did,” Achan said. “Did he feed from her?”

“That he did, arse. That he did,” Rhiannon muttered.

“I’ve never seen him attack one of us like that,” Zillah chimed in. “I can’t ever remember him being that protective of anything.”

“He wasn’t just being protective, Zillah,” Judah said as he spontaneously ran a finger over the slight knick on her throat. He brushed off a single blood drop and wiped it on the front of his jeans.

The gesture didn’t seem to faze Zillah. It was almost as if she didn’t even notice it. “If he wasn’t being protective, then what the hell was that?”

“Territorial,” Judah whispered. “He was being territorial.”

“Are you okay?”

Taris led her through the house and pulled her into a cream and marble bathroom at the top of a giant staircase.

“Shook up a little,” she responded. Her voice was distant. As he closed the door, he gently set her down on the edge of the tub. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide and bloodshot. It dawned on him that he’d put her through more trauma in the last twenty-four hours than she’d probably endured in her entire life.