Justus (3 page)

Chapter Four

Justus limped through
the woods, but he was still faster than most humans on their best
day. Blood soaked his pants and trickled down his leg. He could
feel the burn in his side but didn’t bother to look at it.

He knew it was bad, but he
had to run. They would have just kept shooting at him. Still,
running had only made the bleeding worse. He could feel his pulse
thump in his head as more blood soaked his only shirt.

He stopped and leaned against
a tree. His head hung as he clutched the tree for support. Stopping
now meant certain death. Either he would bleed out, or those men
would find him and finish the job. It wasn’t going to work in his
favor no matter how he spun it. Justus needed to get out of sight,
and even more, he needed medical attention.

The thought of going back to
Luna Lodge flashed through his mind. He shook his head. No way in
hell was he going back there. They were no different than the men
chasing him. Maybe even worse in some ways.

“Traitorous bastards,” he
mumbled. Justus could feel the slur of his words and frowned. The
ground beneath shifted a little, and he gripped the tree a little
harder.

“Fuck,” he grunted. He’d been
foolish to trust the men in the woods, but he’d also been
desperate. The poor decision might cost him his freedom, let alone
his life.

His head shot up as a
familiar smell greeted his nostrils. He inhaled deeply. It was a
surprise he was even able to distinguish it considering how much
his injuries dulled his senses. But this was different. Pleasant.
Intoxicating. Like being called back home.

He shook his head. What a
silly thought. There was nothing out here that would call him home,
and there was always the threat that the Horatius Group had found
him and was only tricking him into coming right to them.

Justus took an unsure step
the opposite direction and spun a little. His hand shot out to grip
the tree again. It wouldn’t be long before he blacked out.

He looked in the direction
he’d just come and knew the men weren’t far. Distance was getting
harder to judge with the more blood he lost, and even those idiots
would be able to follow his tracks.

Justus let out a sigh. There
really was no choice. He would have to follow the glorious scent
pulling him in and hope for the best.

With the little strength he
had remaining, Justus moved through the woods. He carefully covered
the path he made until he was deep enough to throw off his
pursuers. Then he set out the opposite direction. If those men had
any skills at hunting, they’d be able to follow a trail, and he
planned on giving them one to follow.

Moving as quickly as he could
manage, Justus forged a new path in the woods. He knew the water
was just up ahead and would give him the perfect place to kill his
trail. When he reached the creek’s edge, he placed his foot firmly
in the muddy bank, giving them something concrete to go on. With
any luck they’d think he walked through the water and follow that
wherever it led.

He turned back toward the
sweet floral smell and breathed in deeply. His vision started to
blur as the last rays of the sun sank over the horizon, letting
night fully claim the area.

He carefully walked away from
the water, gritting his teeth through the pain. The process of
moving through the woods was going to be tedious. Not only did he
need to make sure he traveled without leaving a trace, but he had
to make sure he actually made it out. With each step his senses
dulled. Only one thing kept him going. That smell.

Was it possible? A Vestal?
His Vestal?

The Vestals were rare women
who could mate with the hybrids, with many only compatible with a
single hybrid. The whole thing was very mysterious. Even the
Horatius Group was having trouble with the problem, hence them
facilitating Vanessa’s efforts.

He stumbled through the
trees. Darkness had set in around him, and it was only luck he was
able to see anything. His vision, normally sharp and crisp even on
the darkest of nights, was starting to blur. When he reached the
edge of the woods, Justus looked out across the tall field. Not the
normal cover he would want, but it would work. Not like he had time
to shop around for other options.

Patches of snow lay scattered
around the hard earth, and he tried his best to avoid the white
snow with his dripping blood. Most times he could get around
virtually unnoticed by even the animals in the forest, but today he
was going to be lucky if he didn’t alert the whole area to his
presence.

A distant light reached out
across the frost-bitten field. A little farm house stood in the
distance, the source of the light and the familiar smell. His nose
wrinkled as another, less-pleasant smell greeted him: the scent of
that bastard Titus. It was faint but still there.

Justus looked around him.
He’d assumed the Horatius Group would be the ones using false
scents, but perhaps Luna Lodge had picked up a few tricks. Maybe it
was all a trap, after all.

A quiet groan escaped his
lips from the pain. He stumbled forward, not able to stand in one
spot for too long. Something was wrong. He was strong. He’d been
wounded before just as badly, if not worse, and he’d never bled as
much.

Focusing on the farmhouse, he
pushed forward. It didn’t matter at this point. If it was a lodge
trap, he could escape again.

He sagged as he left the
field and stepped onto the grass near the house. Nothing had jumped
out yet, but they might not have noticed him. The closer he
approached the house, the more at home he felt. His mind couldn’t
rationalize why it felt so comforting, but it was all he needed to
keep going and risk his freedom.

He set one foot in front of
the other until he reached the porch steps and fumbled. There was
no staying quiet now. His feet barely hit the steps as he worked
his way up.

Close to the door, he
fell.

Justus landed hard, and the
world blacked around him.

The sounds around him blended
as he tried to open his eyes. It wasn’t until he heard her Justus
was able to force them open.

“Son of a bitch,” someone
said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He blinked several times
before her concerned face focused in front of him.

“Paige?”

Chapter Five

Paige stared down at the
huge bleeding man before her.

Where had Justus come from?
What happened? If he’d been shot by the men from Luna Lodge, she
doubted Rachel would have been so cavalier, or even Titus for that
matter. Perhaps the Horatius Group had wounded him. There were just
too many possibilities.

Her questions would have to
remain unanswered for now. Getting him inside and cleaned up would
give her a better understanding of the situation. Whatever was
going on, she wasn’t going to let this man die on her front
porch.

She placed the shotgun she’d
gotten out just inside the door next to the wall. She stared at
Justus for a moment. It wasn’t often she’d had to deal with the
quiet hybrid, and with everything that had happened, she was far
less trusting. She’d been so determined to stay out of Luna Lodge’s
chaos, and now here it was, literally at her doorstep.

She muttered to herself as
she grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and laid it on the porch
next to him. There was no way she’d be able to carry the heavy
hybrid in, and as much as she didn’t want to do it, pulling him on
the blanket was the best option.

She needed to stabilize his
condition in a warm environment. From the looks of things, he
wouldn’t be able to survive the cold night, no matter how tough he
normally was.

An idea niggled in the back
of her mind that she ought to call Titus or Rachel. Still, she’d
have to treat him either way, and there would always be time for
that later. For now she needed to find out just where he was
bleeding and stop it if she could.

With a grunt, she heaved his
body onto the blanket. Blood coated the floor. She stood and gave
several hard tugs on the blanket.

Slowly, the heavy man moved
inside the door. She winced as she pulled him over the hump of the
door frame. His head thumped loudly, and she knew there would
likely be some tenderness later. Still, it was much better to have
a bump than to die outside in the cold.

Once she had him inside, she
closed the door and raced to her kitchen to get her first aid
supplies.

The cabinet by the sink
thumped loudly as she grabbed out the meager first aid kit. Paige
placed a metal bowl in the sink and turned on the hot water. It
wasn’t going to be sterile, but it would still help.

She prayed that the hybrids
had super-immune systems to go with everything else impressive
about them. She’d just have to make sure she cleaned the wound as
best she could.

While the bowl filled, she
pulled out the supplies: alcohol, bandages, scissors, antibiotic
ointment, needle and fishing line.

Paige placed both hands on
the counter and took a deep breath. Damn bottle of wine. If she’d
known things would end up like this, she would have never indulged.
She needed to ensure she didn’t make things worse for Justus.

She gave a loud bark of
laughter, nerves getting the better of her. Still, it was more than
a little unexpected. What was it people said? Things came in
threes? Well, they certainly had today.

She bit her lip and
considered trying to contact the hospital. Pointless. She was too
far out, and after what had happened with Kelly, Paige wasn’t so
sure someone at the hospital wouldn’t take the opportunity to kill
Justus in his sleep. So many people were terrified of the hybrids
after all.

She took in another deep
breath and steadied her nerves. Just another day at work. Just
another patient. She could handle this. It wasn’t like she hadn’t
seen worse. Burns. That was the thing she hated most, the patients
so wrapped in the deep pain they felt. It made her ache in a way
she’d never known.

Paige flipped off the hot
water and dumped a little in the sink. She ran to the dryer and
pulled out a few fresh towels and a sheet. It was her favorite, but
now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that.

Carefully, she draped them
over her arm, trying to keep them as clean as she could. When she
stepped back into the kitchen, she picked up the box and returned
to the living room.

His still form lay where she
had placed him on the floor. Paige’s stomach knotted over the
amount of blood soaking the blanket under him.

She set her box next to her
on the floor and the bowl of hot water on the other side. The
towels were placed safely on the coffee table.

Blood soaked his side, the
red and bleeding muscle visible through his shirt. She cringed as
she lifted his shirt.

Gunshot wound.

It wasn’t the first time
she’d seen a bullet graze the skin. Somehow in the movies they
always made them seem so simple, like they were nothing more than a
nasty cut, but in truth, a graze represented a line of torn
flesh.

She dipped a washcloth into
the water and wrung out what she could.

When she placed the cloth to
his battered side, Justus groaned.

On instinct she placed a hand
against his damp forehead. The soothing gesture seemed to help.

She held the cloth there for
a moment before pulling it away.

The wound was puckered in
areas, likely where the bullet had burned a little. It was luck
though that it hadn’t ended up lodged inside. Things could have
been much worse.

She stared at the wound for a
moment. Although he’d lost a chunk of skin, it would heal without
stitches. Besides, his stiff muscles would make it hard to pull the
skin together.

Paige placed some ointment on
the wound and taped a bandage to the skin.

She glanced down at his leg.
The amount of blood alone indicated it was bad.

Her hands went to the hem of
his shirt. It would really be best if he wasn’t stewing in
germs.

As easily as she could, Paige
lifted the shirt off. Her hands cradled his head, and she stared
down at the semi-conscious man now in her arms. His face was
wracked in pain. She placed her hand back on his head and watched
the lines fade.

Her hands went to his pants,
and she blushed. She was a nurse and had taken clothes off tons of
people. Yet this time she was nervous. Paige tried to tell herself
it was just nerves at dealing with such severe injuries solo.

She popped the button and
slid the pants down. Justus winced in pain, but she kept going
until they were past the wound on his thigh. She flushed again at
his near nakedness and was grateful he wore underwear. She’d heard
rumors that many of the hybrids preferred not to.

Her eyes shot back to the
wound, and all embarrassment vanished. Paige lifted his leg and
looked at the exit wound. The bullet had missed organs and arteries
from what she could tell. So many things could have gone wrong, but
they hadn’t.

She frowned.

And yet he still bled
heavily. The hybrids were known for their strength and ability to
handle wounds. It was what made them great warriors. This was
different.

She shook her head. Maybe
they didn’t have enough information to really make those sorts of
statements.

Paige picked up the alcohol
and took a deep breath before pouring it over the wound.

Justus shot up, eyes glowing
a bright amber.

The roar the came out of him
was like nothing else she’d ever heard. It was inhuman and primal
in every way that made her scared. She trembled.

As if on command, her hand
went to his bare chest. She wasn’t quite sure if it was in comfort
or fear.

Justus looked down at her
hand and then to her.