Bound to Moonlight (7 page)

“So your sister is alive? We weren’t sure.”

The question gave her hope. They’d been asking Maria about Natasha, it was obvious they didn’t know where her sister was.

He studied her for a moment. “We did it for your own good. You were obsessed with finding your sister. It was probably a mistake to tell you about her existence.”

“Why did you?”

“You were becoming depressed. We thought it would give you something to live for. Hoped to regain your loyalty. You were a valuable asset. We didn’t want to lose you.”

An asset. Anya winced at the word. That was all she had ever been to the Agency. This man had known her from when she was born, but he still didn’t see her as a person.

“So what else have you lied about?” Latham asked. “Is Sebastian Quinn really dead?”

She didn’t answer, and he shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. We sent a team to take them out. I just got a message that the house has been destroyed.”

A wave of anguish swept through her. Sebastian couldn’t be dead. He’d been more full of life than anyone she had ever known. But maybe her sister was still alive. Maybe she could somehow regain the Agency’s trust, escape, find somewhere to belong.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“I’m not taking you anywhere.”

Latham reached out a hand and stroked a finger down her face. She flinched.

“It’s a pity,” he said. “You hold a certain sentimental value for me. You were the first of my creations. It’s why I kept you alive for so long. Now I’m afraid you’ve outlived your usefulness, and we can no longer trust you.” He smiled then, but his eyes remained cold. “Well, almost outlived your usefulness. I’m sure we can learn some interesting facts from studying your brain.

She looked beyond him. A medical cooler box stood on the table beside him. Suddenly she realized what he meant to do. She struggled to move, but the drug held her bound.

“Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing.” He was right. She felt nothing as he slipped the needle into the vein at her wrist.

She watched, despair flooding her mind as he depressed the plunger.

Gunshots sounded in the corridor outside. Something moved in the open doorway. Anya rolled her eyes to look, and hope filled her mind, as the darkness took her.

***

Sebastian leapt across the room. He knocked Latham to the floor and stared down at the woman on the steel table. Her eyes were closed. He could see no sign of life. He laid his hand on her throat and felt not the slightest flicker, though her skin was still warm.

“You’re too late—she’s dead,” the man spoke from the floor.

Sebastian growled low in his throat. “What have you done to her?” A red haze of rage covered his eyes, fury surged through his body, and his wolf rose within him. He dropped to his knees and grabbed the man around the throat, shaking him. “What have you done?”

“Sebastian, leave him.”

Jack’s voice cut through the fog of rage.

“Sebastian! Connor is here. He’ll help her, but we might need Latham alive.”

He looked up to see Connor leaning over Anya’s body. Forcing down his fury, he loosened his grip on Latham’s throat and rose to his feet.

“Can you do anything?”

Connor picked up a bottle from the table beside them and read the label. He nodded. “I think so.” He turned to Jack. “Pass me my bag.”

He rummaged through the contents and came out with a syringe. “Open her shirt,” he said to Sebastian. “Quickly. This has to go direct to the heart.”

Sebastian tore open the buttons and spread the shirt. He didn’t breathe as Connor rubbed one finger down over her chest, over the gentle swell of her breast, feeling for the gap between the ribs. He held up the syringe and stabbed it into her heart, depressing the plunger in one swift move.

For a moment, nothing happened. Sebastian swallowed the fear rising up inside him. He reached out to shake her, as her whole body convulsed. Her back arched, and she came up off the table. She collapsed back and her eyes opened. She stared around; her gaze caught Sebastian and held him.

“You’re alive,” she whispered.

Relief washed through him. “So are you.” He grinned. “Was I supposed to be dead?”

“Latham said…” She paused. “It doesn’t matter.” Her gaze left him and fixed on someone behind him. Her eyes widened in wonder.

He turned to see Tasha standing beside him. She reached out a hand and touched Anya’s cheek. “I’m Tasha.”

Something passed between the two women. Anya managed a faint curve of her lips.

“I’m Anya.”

She closed her eyes. Sebastian stroked her cheek and glanced across at Connor. “Is she going to be all right?”

“She should be. Maybe a little weak for a while, but once the drugs clear her system, she’ll be fine.”

Anya’s eyes blinked open and for a moment horror flared in the golden depths. “He was taking my brain.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “He was going to dissect my brain.”

“Shh,” Sebastian murmured. He wiped the tear with the pad of his thumb. “He can’t do anything anymore.”

She relaxed then, the tension draining from her body as she faded into unconsciousness once more. Fear welled up, and he turned to Connor.

“Don’t panic. She’s just asleep,” Connor said.

Sebastian nodded. “Get back to the house,” he said. “They might need you.”

He watched as Connor left the room then turned to look at Latham who still lay on the floor, Jack standing guard over him. Sebastian’s fists clenched as a black wave of hatred rose inside him. He crossed the room and kicked Latham savagely in the side. “That’s for Anya,” he said. He kicked him again, feeling the crunch of ribs. “And that’s for my goddamn house.”

“Sebastian.” Jack’s softly spoken word, held him back.

He turned to stare at the vampire. “Jonas is dead, and we still don’t know how bad it is back at the house, and this man is responsible.”

They’d managed to take out the unit sent after them, but not before the house had been destroyed. Tasha was sure none of his people were dead, but there were still some trapped in the rubble.

“I know, but we should get out of here.”

Sebastian cast another look of loathing at Latham, who lay moaning, clutching at his ribs. “Kill him,” he growled.

Jack pursed his lips. “He might be able to tell us something. Tasha still might have family out there.”

Sebastian wanted the man to die. Now. He’d been going to take Anya’s brain. If they’d been even minutes later…

He forced himself to think straight, put aside his personal feelings. “Tasha, it’s your choice.”

Tasha turned from where she still hovered over Anya. She looked at Latham, and Sebastian could see his hatred reflected in her eyes. She bit her lip. “I want to see him die so badly, I can taste it. But you’re right—he might be able to tell us something. I suppose we should take him with us.”

Sebastian’s gaze searched the room for something to tie him with, but before he could move, Latham pulled a gun from inside his coat.

Sebastian went still, every muscle tensing. The gun wasn’t aimed at him or Jack, but at Tasha where she stood hovering over her sister. Beside him, he heard a low growl rumble from Jack’s throat.

“I’ll shoot her,” Latham said. “Back off, let me go, and she’ll live.”

Sebastian held himself rigid. He glanced sideways at Jack and saw the darkness rise up in his eyes. Jack nodded an almost invisible movement of his head and moved in a blur of speed.

At the same time, Sebastian leapt towards Tasha, grabbing her and hurling her to the floor. A gun roared, and a sharp pain sliced through his side. He turned. Jack no longer appeared human, his eyes burned green fire, his lips drawn back revealing razor sharp fangs. He had Latham in a death grip, arms around his chest, pulling him back against his body. The gun clattered to the floor, but it was too late to save Latham now. Jack wrenched back his head then lunged, ripping out his jugular, spraying crimson blood across the white-tiled walls.

Jack spat and released the body. It crumpled to the floor at his feet.

Sebastian stared for a long moment, but Latham was clearly dead. He turned his gaze to Jack. “Right then, we’ll question him later, shall we?”

Jack stared back, the darkness still glowing behind his eyes, and Sebastian tensed his muscles ready for the attack. Then a shiver ran through the vampire, the muscles of his face relaxed, and he looked away.

Sebastian released his breath. He pressed his hand to his side; his palm came away stained crimson.

Jack crossed to where Tasha lay on the floor and crouched down beside her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I don’t think Sebastian is though.”

They both turned to look at him.

“It’s nothing. I think.” He stripped off his shirt. The bullet had entered through his back, close to his waist and exited through his front. He wiped the blood away with his shirt. The wound was bleeding copiously, but he didn’t think anything important had been hit. “I’ll be fine once I shift.”

He moved to the table where Anya lay, still unconscious.

“I’ll take her,” Jack said.

“No, I will.”

He scooped her up, ignoring the twinge in his side and held her close against his chest. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Chapter Ten

She wasn’t dead.

It was becoming a recurring thought on waking. Anya lay completely still. Afraid to try to move in case she couldn’t. Afraid to open her eyes in case she saw something she really didn’t want to see.

What had happened? Latham was going to take her brain. Cut her up. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at the ceiling.

“Anya?”

She recognized the voice. Sebastian Quinn. Rolling her head to the side, she stared into his eyes. He looked back, searching her face.

“You’re awake,” he said. “How do you feel?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I feel okay. What happened? I thought…” she trailed off. She’d thought Latham had killed her. She’d felt the prick of that last injection.

“We got there in time. You were dead, but we gave you an adrenaline shot. It brought you round.”

“Why?” she asked.

He frowned. “Why what?”

“Why did you bring me round? Why did you save me?” She paused for a moment, but she wanted no more lies. “I took your people. One of them died.”

“You saved the other two.”

“I was sent to kill you. I would have shot you that night.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. I don’t think you wanted to kill me.”

Fury and guilt battled inside her. “Do you think that mattered? No, I didn’t want to kill you. I never wanted to kill anybody.”

“So why did you?”

She took a deep breath and faced the truth. “Because I wanted to live.”

He sat back in his chair and sighed, ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. “We’ve all done things we’d rather not do, in order to survive.”

She looked at him, curious. “Have you killed?”

“I’ve killed to protect myself and to protect my pack. It’s really no different.”

Anya searched his face, found compassion and pity. She didn’t want his pity. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but pity came nowhere close. He was so beautiful, even the exhaustion stamped clear on his features couldn’t detract from that beauty. She remembered that first sight of him; how it had pulled at something deep inside her.

She dragged herself up so she leaned against the headboard. Weakness still lingered in her body, but that would be from the drugs Latham had given her. Her head felt fine, her mind clear, no dull, throbbing ache that would show she needed her medication. How much time did she have?

“How long have I been here?” she asked.

“Around four hours.”

She had a while yet. Maybe they had taken Latham. Maybe he would tell them how to make the drug. “The doctor who was there when you found me—what happened to him?”

“Latham? He was killed.”

She closed her eyes, clutched the sheet in her fingers, and fought the despair that threatened to overwhelm her.

“What is it, Anya?”

She felt the mattress depress as Sebastian sank down beside her. At the touch of his hand on her cheek, her eyes flew open. He was close, so close she could breathe in the musky scent of him. He cupped her cheek with his large hand, tilted her head so she had no choice but to look at him. “Anya, tell me.”

She swallowed. “I need medication. I have some sort of genetic disease. If I don’t get the medication every day, I die.”

“We know about the pills, our doctor is working on it now. But he also took a sample of your blood. And Anya, he’s pretty sure you don’t have any genetic disease.”

“What?”

“He found traces of poison. Some sort of strychnine derivative he couldn’t identify. He thinks you were poisoned deliberately.”

“Why?”

“Probably as a deterrent to stop you from running, and a way to solve the problem if you did, or if you were captured. As long as you got the antidote each day you were fine.”

Anya turned away to hide the pain she knew must show in her eyes. They’d done this to her with cold deliberation. No doubt, they’d planned to let her die when her usefulness was over. The pain washed away on a tidal wave of black hatred. She wished Latham was still alive, so she could kill him herself.

But maybe if it was poison, they could reproduce the antidote. She forced herself to ask the question. “Does your doctor have a cure?”

“Not yet, but we won’t stop until we find it.”

She wanted to believe him, but she doubted it would be so simple. The Agency had spent years and billions of dollars doing all kinds of research; if they’d wanted her to die, they wouldn’t have given her anything easily cured. Her doubts must have shown on her face.

Sebastian leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. “We
will
find it,” he said. “We’ve spent too much time searching for you to let you go now.”

“You’ve been looking for me? Why?”

“Tasha found out you existed about six months ago, and we’ve been looking ever since. For you and your sisters.”

“I have other sisters?”

“At least two more, we think. We believe that’s why you were sent to kill me, we’d gotten too close. Now, as much as I would like nothing more than to crawl into that bed and forget about the rest of the world for a very long time, there’s someone who’s been waiting to see you.”