Embrace The Night (4 page)

Unlike hers, which straggled in her eyes.

Simon nodded, and Sage took that as invitation to approach. He didn’t talk much, but in this case, speech wasn’t necessary.

She walked closer, steadying herself, feeling the rush of adrenaline still burning through her. Her fingers were shaking, and she would probably puke as soon as she was alone, but she refused to cower in front of this man who’d tried to violate her. She might be a curdled mess inside, but she wasn’t about to show it.

“Someone you know?” he asked.

The door hung open, allowing plenty of light into the room for her to see details. Even through the shiny dark blood that dripped from the attacker’s face, and the eye that was beginning to swell shut, she knew she’d never met him before. “No.”

Then she looked at Simon, who’d not moved a muscle, except perhaps to tighten his fingers warningly over the man’s throat—for he’d stopped struggling and simply rasped heavily. She noticed that Simon’s tee was stained with what had to be blood, and that there was a streak along the shoulder of the unbuttoned shirt he wore over it, but there wasn’t a cut or bruise on his face, nor was the tee even untucked from his many-pocketed pants. The light from the door poured in behind him, casting his beautiful, carved features half in shadow.

“Could you just…step aside a bit?” she asked.

Sage could have sworn she saw the white flash of a smile, but if she did, it was gone just as quickly. He moved to the side, still holding her assailant. She walked up to her attacker and, without hesitation, jammed her knee into his groin.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” she said as he squealed and choked beneath Simon’s hand. An elegant hand, wide and dark with slender fingers that looked as if they couldn’t be strong enough to hold a man at bay. He wore a strap around his tanned wrist, flat and smooth.

“You heard the lady,” Simon added, then as nonchalantly as if he’d shaken the man’s hand, he released him and turned to Sage. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“What do you mean?” Despite the casualness of his demeanor, now that they were facing each other, she could see the danger in his eyes. Cold and merciless. Was he asking if she wanted him to
kill
him? Or what? She felt a little tremor deep inside her belly and bit her lip. Ow. It was sore and puffy from when the guy’d hit her.

Simon shrugged, a subtle movement as if he were as spare with his gestures as he was with his words. “The cops? Jail?”

Sage glanced at the sorry excuse for a man, who looked as if he were about to expire on the spot. He wasn’t going anywhere for a while. And she really didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

As if reading her mind, Simon looked back down at the puddle of skin, bones, and sticky blood. There might have been a heartbeat in there, too, somewhere, and maybe a few working organs. But no brain to speak of.

“If I see you near her again—or hear about any other incident, I’ll break both of your legs. Into four pieces each.” He said it as if he were ordering a dish of ice cream. With caramel sauce. “And then I’ll sic her on you to finish the job.”

Sage felt the man shiver next to her leg and felt a grain of pity for him. Only a grain. Then it was gone. “Leave him here,” she said, answering his original question. “He won’t bother me again.”

Simon gave a nod. He didn’t say anything, but she felt his eyes score over her as if to ensure that she was all right. As he did that, Sage realized that the bodice of her dress hung open, torn to her waist, barely clinging to her shoulders.

“Here,” he said, slipping off the shirt he wore over his tee.

She took it. The fabric was warm and well worn, and she slipped her arms through the sleeves, unable to ignore the scent that came with it. Nothing that she could identify, but it was subtle and masculine, and she liked it. She buttoned it and rolled up the sleeves even more than they’d already been rolled.

“You broke his nose,” Simon commented, directing her toward the door.

“Did I?” Sage was more than willing to leave, as she felt the adrenaline beginning to subside. Her knees buckled as she took a step, but she caught herself before Simon noticed, and she swallowed back the nausea that threatened to bubble up from her suddenly churning stomach. She was glad he hadn’t made any move to comfort her, to put his arms around her or to otherwise croon over her, pet her—do all the things people did when something awful happened.

She wasn’t a child, needing to be held and petted, tears brushed away. She could handle this. The worst that had happened, thank God, was a few bruises and a torn dress. Jade hated that sundress anyway, so she’d be glad it was ruined. Even Flo wouldn’t be able to fix it.

And besides, if Simon was going to touch her, she didn’t want it to be because he felt pity for her.

Whoa.

She almost stopped walking, the thought had been so…unexpected. So non sequitur So…odd.

Her belly tingling, Sage resisted the strong urge to look up at him. “Thank you,” she said, realizing suddenly that she’d been remiss in expressing her gratitude. She might have broken the guy’s nose and fought back, but he’d been gaining the upper hand. If Simon hadn’t arrived…

He shrugged again as he closed the door behind them. “Here,” he said, and handed her one of the books.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking it and clasping it to her chest. “I was afraid it had gotten lost or destroyed.”

“Here’s the other.” He bent and retrieved it from under a low-growing bush.

“How did you find me? How did you know?”

“The book.”

She shook her head. “I mean, you were eating—or going to eat. Why did you leave? And how did you know to come…this way?”

Now he looked uncomfortable, then all expression was wiped from his face. “I had a feeling.” He shrugged again.

A feeling. Sage narrowed her eyes as if that would help her read his mind. It didn’t. But then, before she could speak, she heard her name and turned to see Theo approaching.

He took one look at her, and even from the distance she could see his face turn shocked, then black with anger. She must look terrible if he could tell something was wrong that far away. Sage automatically brushed her hair back, refastening most of it in its band, and adjusted Simon’s shirt over her torso.

“What happened?” Theo fairly ran up to them, glancing at her, and then turning to Simon. He bristled with ferocity. “What the hell happened?”

It took Sage a moment to realize that Theo wasn’t accusing Simon—which had been her first thought after seeing his expression—and that not only was he asking
Simon
to explain what had happened to
her
, but he wasn’t even acknowledging her, let alone asking how she felt.

But then Theo, her dear friend who’d
kissed
her earlier tonight (a consequence which still surprised her), curled an arm around her shoulders and tugged her up against his side. Hard and tight. Still not looking at her…but now she felt the rage and trembling beneath his skin.

“Why don’t you ask Sage?” Simon replied coolly. Again, she noticed that flavor of an accent in his voice. “She broke the bastard’s nose.” He met Theo’s eyes and she felt as if some sort of message passed between them that she didn’t comprehend. Then, with the barest of nods in her direction, he turned and walked away. Casual, loose, easy.

And as he disappeared into the shadows, the last bit of her control slipped away. Her stomach swirled like a vortex. She looked up at Theo and said, “Get me out of here. I don’t—”

But it was too late. She lunged for the bush and barely made it before her stomach rebelled.

He gently pulled the straggling hair back from her face as she bent and violently emptied her belly.

Theo. Lucky she had such a good friend that would stand by, holding her hair and wiping her face while she puked.

Simon told himself he should seize the opportunity.

He’d only been to the underground computer lab a few times since he and the others arrived in Envy and were brought into the inner circle of the Waxnickis’ Resistance, but he knew the way. And now that Sage was with Theo, they’d be busy for a few minutes—hopefully longer, if Theo would hitch his
ganas
up and do something other than flex that ridiculous dragon
placa
and look at the woman with puppy-dog eyes when he thought no one was watching.

Chavala.
Take her back to her room, or
your
room or somewhere and tell her how it is.

At the very least, Simon was glad to escape from what he recognized as a rapidly deteriorating situation. Sage was about to fall apart, and the last thing he needed was to be trying to comfort her. He didn’t need to be getting anywhere near those delicate shoulders and slender hands and that long, thick, fascinating hair. He could fairly smell her innocence, all wrapped up in that smooth skin and intelligent blue eyes. Hell, her upper lip had a small freckle right on it, right at the fullest part, and every time he noticed it, the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

No. He needed to get far away from the breakdown on the horizon. Especially since he didn’t want to deal with the complication of Theo coming upon such a scene.

Not to mention the fact that he’d just about gone over the edge—
back
over the edge—there in that room. He was right there, right on the fucking line. It would have been so easy…too easy…to finish the
gabacho
off. He’d killed for much less. Those dirty hands and greedy mouth manhandling Sage, tearing at her—

Simon blanked his mind.
No. Don’t fucking go there.

But it still nestled in his body, that cold rage, as he cruised quickly and silently through the hallways that led to the uninhabited part of the hotel.

He could have acted on that rage, and no one would have been the wiser. In fact, in this world, it was more than like the Old West—a man had to take the law into his own hands because there wasn’t widespread authority.

There were a few small prisons cells in Envy, but not much of a legal system. Simple trial by jury…if anyone made it that far. No, most of the time, it was up to the individual to mete out the punishment if someone was caught in the act, which could include banishment.

But Simon had a more severe punishment in mind, and he found the thought more tempting than he fucking should.

He could even go back now and take care of the bastard. A heartbeat, a quick twist and a snap or a well-placed slice, and it would be over.

Simon strode faster, putting distance between himself and the temptation. Stepping over that line, even in this case, would be only the beginning of a very slippery slope.

Now he understood what Jesus felt like in the desert, when Satan had tempted him. The enticement was everywhere…and he had to fight it. Though he had the power, the strength, and the protection, he couldn’t act on it.

At last he reached the split doors that led to the old elevator shaft. The area was dim and cluttered with debris and cobwebs in staged neglect. He found it short business to open the doors, and they slid apart silently and easily once he pushed the right combination of the buttons.
Down, up, up, up, down.

Simon’s mouth twisted in a reluctant smile. Obviously the Waxnicki brothers were not only computer and electronics geniuses, but also Bond fans. He stepped through the open doors onto the landing of a tight spiral staircase, and the doors rolled closed behind him, leaving the world dark.

But he knew the trick—step on the right side of the third stair—to activate a soft glow of light.

At the bottom of the spiral was a smaller room, another display of perpetual neglect, and Simon felt around for the latch that opened the door to the lab. Moments later, he slipped inside.

The room was warm and hummed with the whir of computers and soft buzz of monitors. He found the lights that illuminated the spare space, which was filled with nothing but tables lined with computers, monitors, and keyboards. He quickly situated himself at one of the stations Sage often used.

Fully aware of the limitations of the haphazard, patch-worked Internet, Simon didn’t expect to find the information so easily. But it took only a few minutes using the Yahoogle search engine to pull up the news article he remembered seeing, and to scan through to confirm his memory. He’d been right.

Considering that he’d been functionally illiterate until he was fifteen, Simon still felt a little thrill of amazement that he could so effortlessly breeze through the printed word. Even though he’d been reading fluently for more than twenty years, the memory of his frustration, and then belligerence, when it came to understanding how the letters fit together to form words had not altogether left him.

He considered his education the single gift he’d received from Mancusi. The only thing that had made his years of hell worthwhile.

Just as he turned off the computer monitor, he heard a quiet
ding
.

Pinche.
Someone had just opened the elevator doors above.

Simon moved quickly to turn off the lights in the lab just as he recognized the soft ringing of footsteps on the upper stairs. He drew in a deep breath and relaxed, imagining himself seeping into nothingness, becoming unnoticeable, invisible, as he’d done many times in his old life. Back then, it was a matter of sliding into shadows, flattening himself against a wall, slipping silently from a room.

But now…it was real.

Simon heard the steps coming closer and recognized two pairs of feet. Just fucking great. Sage and Theo.

Coming down here.

Nice place for a seduction,
vato.
The computer lab.

Simon remained focused, for it was still new to him—this ability to become nothing. To shimmer into invisibility. It was so new, in fact, that he hadn’t told anyone about it yet—even Elliott and Quent, who also had discovered supernatural powers since coming out of the cave. He was still trying to figure it out himself.

Simon had to think about it, concentrate, and breathe carefully. And he’d only seen himself do it once, after they’d arrived in Envy and he had privacy and a mirror with which to practice.