Night Reigns (18 page)

Authors: Dianne Duvall

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Night Reigns

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Marcus smoothed Ami’s hair back from her face. “Turn onto your side, so he can tend the stab wound first.”

Roland would realize there was more than one puncture wound as soon as he touched her. Then Marcus would want to know why she hadn’t mentioned the other and, worse, would discern how much the two wounds he had tended had already shrunk. She needed to get him out of the room.

“Marcus, would you please get me a drink of water?”

When Sarah opened her mouth to offer to fetch it, Ami gave her a quick look.

Marcus didn’t seem to notice, just squeezed her hand and said, “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t hurry,” she admonished. “You need your strength to recover from your own wounds.”

He nodded and left the room at mortal speed.

As soon as he was gone, she turned onto her side, drew her shirt up, and yanked down the bandage, revealing both wounds.

Sarah gasped.

Roland muttered a curse and covered the wounds with gentle hands. As Sarah had suggested, heat blossomed as though he instead held a heating pad against her. The agony swiftly eased, then vanished completely as both wounds knitted themselves back together, leaving no sign that they had ever existed other than the dried blood.

Marcus returned with a glass of water as Roland turned his attention to the gash in her hamstring.

“Feeling better?” he asked, kneeling beside Roland and handing her the glass of water.

Ami rolled onto her stomach, giving Roland better access to the back of her thigh, and leaned up enough to sip some water. “Yes.”

Marcus placed a light hand on her back, his eyes on the cut Roland healed.

Relief loosened the knot in Marcus’s shoulders when Roland removed his hand and revealed unblemished flesh.

“Don’t relax yet,” Roland warned. “I’m not finished.”

Brows drawing together, Marcus looked to Ami, who avoided his gaze by drinking more water, then to Roland, whose eyes glowed faintly with anger.

“There’s a lot of bruising, both external and internal,” his friend announced grimly. “Some hemorrhaging, too.” Roland drew the back of Ami’s shirt up almost all the way to her neck.

Fury flooded Marcus. Just like last time, vivid bruises had formed, appearing days old and painting her pale flesh in large, ugly smudges.

Roland began at her shoulders and drew his hands down her narrow back, erasing the fearsome wounds. “Would you please turn onto your back again, Ami?” he asked.

Marcus lifted his hand, let it hover above her as she rolled over, then settled it on her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She nibbled her lower lip. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“You didn’t want to worry me?” he repeated, voice rising.

“Not any more than you already were,” she confirmed.

“You could have died, Ami!”

“No. It ... it isn’t that bad,” she protested and looked to Roland.

“Yes, it is,” he corrected her.

Her lips tightened in annoyance as she narrowed her eyes.

Roland drew her shirt up to just beneath her breasts.

Her stomach was as black and blue and—in some places—puffy as her back. Marcus wondered if she might suffer some illness that made bruises form so quickly. Seth hadn’t seemed concerned about it, but ... it didn’t seem right. Normal.

Roland flattened his palms on her stomach.

Ami flinched.

His anger draining away, Marcus shifted, sat on the floor, and leaned in close to settle his chin on the cushion, inches away from her ear. He curled one arm around her head, playing with her hair, and stroked the other up and down her bloodstained arm.

She turned her head, her nose nearly brushing his.

“A little bed rest?” he murmured, repeating her earlier claim that that was all she needed.

She raised her forearm and brushed the back of her hand against his shoulder. “If I’m too much trouble, you’ll want to be rid of me.”

“Don’t count on it. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” Two weeks with her and he wasn’t sure what he’d do without her. Didn’t
want
to know what he’d do without her. Her companionship. Her laughter and teasing. Her incredible fighting skills, always at the ready when he needed her.

A stray thought occurred. “How did you know I was in trouble?” She had shown up at precisely the right moment, when vampires were converging on him from all sides, and she had done the same thing a week earlier.

Marcus didn’t believe in coincidences.

“I had a copy of the map Reordon sent you, knew the garages you would be checking and the route you would take.”

“And, what, followed me on a hunch?”

“Perhaps she thought you needed a babysitter,” Roland drawled, his voice strained.

Marcus hadn’t asked Roland if he had suffered any wounds himself that night. If he had and had not yet recovered, the wounds he healed on Ami would open on his own flesh as his energy faltered.

Guilt stilled Marcus’s tongue and prevented him from dealing Roland a scathing retort.

“Don’t hit me,” Roland said.

Still fondling Ami’s hair, Marcus raised an eyebrow. “For suggesting I need a sitter?”

“No, for this. I do it with good intentions.” He looked up at Sarah. “Don’t you hit me either, wife.”

Her eyebrows rose.

Appearing genuinely wary, Roland raised Ami’s shirt above her full breasts, scarcely concealed beneath a tan bra.

Face flushing a deep red, Ami hastily tried to tug her shirt down again.

Marcus reached over to stay her. Severe bruising covered most of her chest around and beneath her heart, indicating significant internal bleeding.

Had she come so close to death then? Had her heart been damaged? How had she continued to remain upright? To fight? What had happened to her in the past that would allow her to endure such wounds so placidly?

“Let him heal you,” he entreated softly.

She stilled.

Sarah shifted restively behind the sofa. “Roland, do you need to feed first?”

“No. I’m fine, love.”

Though she clearly doubted his words, Sarah offered no further protest as he rested a palm over Ami’s heart.

Marcus suppressed the urge to coldcock his friend. He wanted no one’s hands on Ami’s breasts but his own. And his hands had never even touched Ami’s breasts. Except in his fantasies.

The horrible bruising on her chest began to fade and shrink, leaving healthy, alabaster skin behind. When Roland removed his hand, her body was once more perfect in every way.

“Thank you, Roland,” Marcus said, offering him his arm.

Roland grasped it with a weary smile. “Anytime, my friend.”

Sarah circled the sofa and took Roland’s other arm. “Let’s go get some blood in you.”

Roland nodded. As he rose, he staggered a little. Marcus held on to his arm until he regained his balance.

Ami sat up and pulled her shirt down. “Thank you, Roland.”

Looking exceedingly uncomfortable, Roland said, “You’re welcome?” He looked to Sarah, who smiled and nodded. “Yes,” he said more firmly. “You’re welcome.”

Marcus laughed and met Ami’s gaze. “I did tell you he’s antisocial, right?”

Roland cuffed him on the side of the head, then swore as he listed to the side.

Sarah wrapped her arm around his waist to steady him and drew him away toward the kitchen. “Marcus,” she tossed over her shoulder, “would you like me to bring you some blood?”

“Yes, please.” He could use a bag or two.

As soon as Sarah and Roland entered the kitchen and left his sight, Marcus leaned forward and drew Ami into his arms. Ami wrapped hers around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re right,” she said, her warm breath tickling his neck. “He’s not that bad.”

“I heard that,” Roland called from the kitchen.

They both laughed.

Marcus closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his cheek against her hair.

“Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“You scared me,” he admitted. “And infuriated me.” She should have told him the extent of her injuries.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to.”

“Your safety is more important than mine, Ami.”

“Not according to the network’s handbook.”

“Bugger the network’s handbook. You’re
my
Second, and I’m telling you that your safety comes first.”

Her arms loosened as she drew back and looked him in the eye. “Marcus, I’m not the first Second you’ve had. You know what my job entails and—”

Leaning forward, he sealed her lips with his own, silencing the protest she would have made.

You’re the one who is saving the world, saving humanity. You’re the one who must be protected at all costs.
He’d heard it too many times from previous Seconds. He wouldn’t listen to it from Ami. He wouldn’t lose her to violence as he had so many others.

He wouldn’t lose her. Period.

Though Ami had lost a lot of blood, what remained rushed through her veins at top speed as Marcus’s mouth closed over hers. He caught her lower lip between his teeth, drew his tongue across it in a slow, sensuous stroke, then begged entrance. Ami granted it gladly.

How could he taste and smell so good after a long night hunting? She heard his breath catch, felt his hands fist in her shirt. His hips parted her knees as he rose onto his own and almost roughly pulled her forward until her bottom met the edge of the leather cushion. His arms tightened, pressing her breasts to his chest, her stomach to his, her core flush against the erection straining against the front of his cargo pants.

Ami hummed her approval and tunneled her fingers through his soft hair, dislodging it from the ponytail he had tamed it into before hunting. So many new feelings assaulted her. Foreign sensations she knew instinctively comprised lust, desire, need.

Marcus answered with a groan, slid his hands down to cup her bottom and hold her still as he ground against her.

Ami gasped as fire shot through her. She clutched him tight as his lips burned a path down her neck.

So good.
Once more she understood why such contact had always been forbidden her in the past. She couldn’t seem to get close enough, wanted to feel his warm bare skin against hers.

She curled her legs around his hips, urging him on as he moved against her.

Marcus growled his approval and slid one hand up to cup the side of her neck. His breath warmed the skin just beneath her ear as he nipped the lobe, careful not to break the skin with his sharp fangs.

A shiver tingled through her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate on anything but the amazing way he made her feel.

His mouth returned to hers, devouring hungrily.

She liked this. His hard body pressed to hers. The sharp spikes of pleasure that darted through her with every roll of his hips against her, every caress of his wicked, wicked tongue.

“No,” Marcus murmured against her lips so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

Her hands stilled. Had she accidentally pulled his hair?

“Shut it,” he whispered.

Frowning, she drew back.

Inches away, Marcus sighed. When his lids lifted, his amber eyes glowed brightly.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, unsure.

“No.” His husky voice was rife with irritation. “Roland is being a pain in the arse.”

Ami looked toward the kitchen, half afraid the surly immortal would be standing there watching them. He wasn’t, but ... She met Marcus’s gaze. “He can hear us, can’t he?”

“Yes,” Roland said in the kitchen.
Thump.
“Ow! What was that for?”

“Don’t embarrass her,” Sarah hissed.

Marcus dropped his head forward.

Ami touched his silky hair, brushed it back from his forehead.

He raised his chin. His lips began to tilt up in a weary smile, but froze as something drew his gaze beyond her. Starting, he reared back and reached for one of his few remaining shuriken.

Heart in her throat, Ami swung around to look over her shoulder.

The room behind her was empty.

As she turned back to Marcus, he relaxed with a light curse.

“What—”

He shook his head and mouthed,
Later.

Ami nodded, knowing he couldn’t tell her now if he didn’t want Roland or Sarah to hear him.