Blood Entangled (2 page)

Inside the house, the air was much warmer, and smelled like wood smoke and Lena.

She called out the moment she saw him. “I’m not going.” His father’s cook—no,
former
cook—sat on Kos’s sofa looking fierce and lovely.

“Hello to you, too.”

She seemed fine—no scent of fear, pulse slow and steady—surprisingly calm and composed. For the first time since she’d called, he took a full breath, because she was safe and unafraid. She drew her long legs up underneath her on the couch. That was good—he found them immensely distracting. She crossed her arms over those awe-inspiring breasts, which was also helpful.

“Come on, we’ve got to go.” He pointed his thumb at the door.

She pouted. “I said no.”

When had she grown so stubborn? Dropping into a squat with his elbows on the coffee table, he peered into her eyes, the same dark blue as the ocean outside. “You’re not safe.”

“I feel better than I have in years. Away from Andre, I’m my old self. I won’t go back. I have friends I can stay with in San Francisco. Take me to Santa Rosa and I’ll get a bus.”

Krist i svi sveci—
by Christ and all the Croatian saints, she was difficult.

“Good chance the Hunters know your name,” Kos said, “which means they can find you anywhere. It’s possible they’ll even tail us from here.”

“I won’t go.” She shook her head and crossed her arms more tightly.

If her resistance weren’t so infuriating, it would have been cute. Kos set his jaw and put on his most determined expression. “You will.”

Her mouth opened in surprise, but she still said, “No.”

Damn, she had a way of making him tense. He rolled his shoulders. Reason wasn’t working, neither was coercion. He had one more option.

“Lena, do it for me. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.” It wasn’t strictly manipulation if it was true.

“What do you mean?”

He leaned over the coffee table. “In Croatia we lost four members of our household. I promised I’d never let that happen again. Please don’t endanger yourself and put me through that a second time.”

She inched toward him, still hugging herself tightly.

“Please?”

At last, she dropped her arms to her sides. “Okay. I’ll go if I can borrow one of your books.”

“I have loads of books at Kaštel too. You’re welcome to any of them.”

“But I like this one.” She touched the cover of
A New Selected Poems
by Galway Kinnell where it lay on the coffee table.

“You do?”

“I like the one about the footsteps.” She blushed, her eyes aimed at the book.

A lump formed in Kos’s throat—the poem was a favorite, about how Kinnell’s young son appeared every time his parents finished making love, to climb between them in the bed where he was conceived. The last time he’d read it, it had stirred longings for impossible things, so he’d abandoned Kinnell entirely.

Lena thumbed the pages of the book where it lay on the table. She still didn’t look at him. “It got me thinking I might not want to do the whole blood servant thing anymore. Maybe it’s time for me to leave household service and have a normal life.”

“I understand that feeling, but the decision will have to wait. I’ll help you find a job, with humans
or
vampires, but first we need to keep you safe.”

Her head tilted, but she finally nodded and grabbed her overnight bag.

As they approached his father’s winery, she rummaged in her purse, closely examined her fingernails, bounced her foot rapidly. Poor Lena. His shoulders bunched again, and he clenched the steering wheel. Damn Andre. He had done this to her—made her so unhappy, neglected her. She was a flesh and blood woman in need of kindness and affection, not to mention sex.

How had Andre resisted her charms? She was easily the most desirable female Kos had ever met, and Andre had treated her like a gadfly.

Kos turned off the highway into the estate’s winding drive and his skin went cold. Something was wrong. The rank smell of Hunter wafted out of the air conditioner vent. There was a loud burst, and the steering wheel jerked.

Krist!
A tire had been shot—they were under attack.

Her eyes were huge with fear, welling up from wherever she’d hidden it earlier.

“Lena.” She didn’t respond, so he shook her shoulder gently. “Listen to me. Hunters are shooting at us. When I say go, get out of the car and run to the front. I will carry you from there to the house.”

“I don’t want to weigh you down. I’ll run myself.”

“Lena, your weight is nothing to me and I’m ten times faster than you. I will pull you across the seat and out my own damn door, unless you do what I say. Okay?”

She stifled a whimper, bobbing her head in obedience.

“Now.”

She opened her door and scurried out. Two Hunters were waiting for her, their eyes burning golden in the darkness.

Krist
, he’d let his guard down—hadn’t seen them. He froze in place as two of them pulled her backward off the drive toward the bushes. Just humans, but the gun pointed at her head made them dangerous and forced him to stop and think. They would want her alive, to enjoy in all the sick ways Hunters used household women. But they would kill her too, if it was expedient.

His heart pounded and rage boiled up inside him. They dared to threaten her. Twice in one day, they’d invaded his domain, coming after a woman under his protection.

No time to get possessive. Think.

Six yards to one Hunter, eight to the one with Lena. He could break both their necks and have her safe before they could shoot. Another shot rang out and a bullet grazed his side.

Lena cried out. She paled, her fair hair a halo in the moonlight. He had to save her. Power surged through him, gushing through his veins and contracting his muscles tight around his bones. Toes twitching in his shoes, he gave himself a countdown. Three…two…one.

He was on the ground behind the Hunters before he realized he hadn’t sprinted, but flown. He’d flown—for the first time in his life.

Laughter burst from his mouth, and on its heels a string of triumphant Croatian expletives. Both Hunters turned. He went for the bigger one first, gripping his head and shoulder to snap his neck. The other one yanked Lena and tried to hold her in front of him. She fought him, throwing an elbow to his gut and a heavy stomp to his foot. He pushed her down, and she landed hard.

“Lena?”

Kos froze, and the sharp shooter had time to aim. A bullet tore through his shoulder, burning through flesh and bone before exiting the other side.

It didn’t matter.

Was she hurt? Her slender rib cage rose and fell rapidly where she lay on the grassy edge of the drive. The Hunter stood over her, his frightened eyes glued to Kos. In one fast step, Kos closed the distance between them and twisted the man’s head until his spine severed with a pop.

Hunters approached on all sides. A line of blood trickled from Lena’s hairline. Banding his arm around her ribs, he said, “Hold on.”

She laced her arms around his neck; his shredded shoulder burned like hell, but it was already knitting back together, causing his skin to itch and tingle. He launched them into the air, fueled by the need to protect her.

“Oh my God,” Lena whispered. “You’re flying. Kos, you’re flying!”

He landed at the front door more gracefully than he expected.

His brother Bel promptly opened the door. “Son of a bitch. You flew!” He dragged Lena inside. “Shit, Kos, you’re soaked in blood. How bad are you hurt?”

“Fine. Healed already. Shield holding?”

“Seems to be,” Bel replied.

Good. They were safe from any firepower the Hunters might try. Kos shooed him away and focused on Lena. She trembled, but otherwise held herself together.

“Kos, you’re bleeding.” She touched his shirt, and her hand came away red.

She would worry until he proved he was fine.

“Not anymore. Look.” He undid two buttons on his ruined shirt and showed her his bare chest.

“Oh, wow.” Dazed, she looked from her hand to his chest and back.

“Where are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“You have a head wound. Anything else?”

She touched her head where she was bleeding. “My wrist.”

The swelling worried him. He manipulated her hand, and she flinched, but her range of motion was good. “Doesn’t appear broken. Just a sprain. But let’s get some ice on it.”

In the kitchen, he sat her down on a stool next to the counter and made an ice pack. While she held it to her wrist, Kos cleaned the blood off her head.

He’d never been so close to her, aside from their quick flight to the front door. Her blond curls were feather soft under his fingers.

“Lena, this is already bruising. How hard did you hit the ground?”

“I don’t remember.” Her forehead creased with the effort.

“That’s not a good sign.”

“I guess not.” She wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

“Are you feeling tired?”

“Very. Do you think I have a concussion? I didn’t think I hit that hard.”

“You said you don’t remember.”

Her crooked smile seemed to be an admission of some sort.

He filled a glass of water at the sink and slid it across the counter. “Listen, I want you to stay in my room so I can watch for any signs of a concussion. I’ll wake you up every few hours.”

“There’s no need for that. I’ll sleep in my room. I can set an alarm and wake myself up.” She took a tentative sip, then swallowed the rest of the glass in one gulp.

“Sleep wherever you’re most comfortable. But I’ll keep watch either way.”

Her mouth parted. “Really?”

“Yes.”

She closed her mouth, pressing it into an unreadable expression. “Fine. Then I’d prefer your room. Mine will bring back all the unhappy memories of living here.”

About that they were in perfect agreement. Two whole years of self-denial and unmet expectations weren’t good company for her at the moment.

“No problem. Let’s get you settled.”

He took her to his room and went to hers to gather some essentials. Only, what were essentials for a woman like her? A bra hung on the door to her bathroom, and he shied away from it as if he’d snuck a glance at her bare breasts. His gaze landed on a large dresser. If he brought it upstairs, she would have whatever she needed. Soon she would leave Kaštel, and it would be someone else’s job to take care of her. But he would do it right until then.

He stopped midway down the hall and shifted his load. The weight of her dresser was insubstantial, but he just couldn’t find a way to grip the awkward thing. He dragged it the last few yards into his room.

Behind the bathroom door, water splashed in the sink. Her toothbrush scrubbed and then the sounds of whatever else women do to get ready for bed came through the door. When she emerged, she had on over-sized flannel pajamas. They were turquoise with a dark-blue unicorn print, making her eyes an even deeper blue. His hands ached to touch her, his palms breaking out in a layer of sweat at the force it took to resist. With her clean face and her hair brushed out into waves, she was the picture of girlish sweetness.

If he weren’t two-hundred-percent certain she wanted Andre, and not him, he would have kissed her.

“Everything okay?” he asked instead. Idiot. It was only the millionth time he’d voiced the question already. With all the books in the room, with all the brilliant words from renowned authors in his mind, he should be able to speak more eloquently.

“Kos, really, I’m fine.” She looked around the room. “But, I feel bad taking your bed.”

“You know I don’t sleep. Never use it.” Mostly true—since he didn’t actually need sleep. Beds were purely recreational, and he preferred not to recreate at his father’s house. He folded himself into his favorite chair and kicked his feet up on the ottoman. “The sheets are clean and the bed is comfortable. I’ll just sit here and read. I’ll wake you every now and then to be sure you’re not having complications from the head trauma.”