Midnight Ash (A Blushing Death Novel) (17 page)

Safe . . . warm . . . home
, she whispered.

I hadn’t seen him move. My pulse quickened with the realization of just how big and quick he was. He turned hesitant olive-green eyes to me and pulled the knife from my hand.

“We're in this together,” he grumbled. His voice was intimate in a way that it shouldn’t have been. I wanted to hear more of his deep, raspy voice filling my ears.

No! What’s wrong with me?

Home . . .
she whispered again.

No!
I screamed back at her.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said with an edge of annoyance. I had to get back on track. “He’s not my first. He won’t be my last,” I finished with sharp confidence. I refused to turn my eyes from his. Even if it was a direct challenge, even if staring into those deep olive-green eyes made me weak in the knees, he wasn’t going to treat me like some stupid little girl who couldn’t take care of herself.

“I’ll have my part in it,” he whispered with force behind his words.

It was the most I’d ever heard him say in one stretch.
Damn him, his deep voice, and stupid logic.
I released the knife into his waiting hand and stepped away.

“He’s going to go up in dust so hold your breath,” I said, giving him room to move.

He nodded once and thrust my bowie knife in to its hilt right through Eyad’s heart with no pretense or hesitation. He didn’t even count to three.

Eyad went up in a cyclone of power and dust. I felt the vacuum of power in my bones as his undead life ended, like a light had been snuffed out. All the pressure that had been beating down on me since he came into the room was just gone. If I could feel his life being extinguished, others would feel it, too. Especially, the King to whom he’d sworn a blood oath. We needed to get out. I turned to Dean and grabbed my knife from his clenched fist.

“We gotta go.” I slid the knife back into my boot. “Now.”

He followed without question. We stepped out into the very white hall and closed the door behind us as if nothing was amiss. We stormed down the empty hall and flung open the door to rest of the club. The heavy base of techno made my throat tighten and my heart pound in my chest.

We stepped back out onto the dance floor and I shoved my way through grinding bodies, trying to avoid the impression that we were running.

A group had formed in the far right hand corner near the outside door. They glanced around the club looking for something or someone that wasn’t there anymore. A flash of light filled the club as someone entered the white hall. They’d find the dead vamps soon but they hadn’t noticed us yet. That was a very good thing but it wouldn’t be long.

I motioned my head in the crowd’s direction. Dean turned, casually scoping out the growing mob. We were close to freedom, so close I could smell the fresh air outside as it mixed with the thick club air that reeked of alcohol, sweat, and sex.

Dean clutched my hand and a jolt of heat shot through me as his fingers closed around mine. I stumbled a bit behind him as the jolt and his grasp caught me off guard. He pushed through the people on the dance floor, knocking over a woman whose heels were much too high. He didn’t stop or even look back.

I caught my feet and followed, keeping an eye on the vampires behind us who looked like a lynch mob, all angry stares and snarls as their beady eyes scanned the crowd. One of those vampires turned to us as the cries of angry clubbers rang out in a wake behind us.

The mob moved into the crowd with their gazes focused on us.

“Heads up,” I shouted over the heavy thump of bass.

Dean made it to the door in record time, leaving the vamps in our wake as the people dancing closed the gap behind us, eliminating their window of opportunity.

We ran the two blocks to his car. I sprinted, keeping pace with his longer legs and unending endurance. We took off to the hotel as quickly as the car would go, tires screeching around every turn. The vampires would lose our scent in the masking smells of exhaust fumes and the hordes of people still in the street as we zigzagged across the city and over the river.

I hoped they wouldn’t be able to follow us. At least, I’d never met one whose sense of smell was that acute.

We rode to the hotel in silence. I was uneasy and hesitant to say anything. I wasn’t even sure why. I’d never felt someone’s power shoot through me like Dean’s had, not even Patrick’s.

Her voice whispered in the back of my mind more and more when Dean was around. I didn’t like it and I didn’t understand it. I felt less and less in control as I sunk deeper into something I didn’t understand. On top of everything else, I’d never felt power constricted like Eyad and his Colony had been. I wasn’t even sure how to explain it to Dean if he asked. He didn’t seem to need explanation, though, which scared me even more.

That was another thing. We’d functioned in that club like we’d worked together for years, like he knew my next move and I, his. I was even ashamed at how my pulse picked up when he touched me.

We checked into a room at the Renaissance overlooking the baseball stadium across the bridge. They only had one room left, something about a Steelers game. It was a nice enough room with two double beds and the largest bathtub I’d ever seen. I felt dirty, covered in ash, grime, and club dirt. As tired as I was and even though it was after three in the morning, I wanted a shower.

I stepped out of the hot steam of the shower, wrapped my hair in a towel, then stopped in front of the mirror. I wiped the fog from the glass and took a long look at myself. I had no makeup to hide behind and the cruel florescent lights of the hotel bathroom highlighted the dull light in my eyes. Dark circles shaded the skin under my eyes and my skin was even more pale than normal. I looked so tired and withdrawn I almost didn’t recognize myself.

I stepped out of the bathroom in a T-shirt, shorts, and a billowing cloud of steam.

Dean sat on one of the beds, flipping through the channels. When I stepped to the other bed and slipped under the covers with my back to him, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t turn off the television either.

My hair was still wet but I didn’t care. I rolled over, facing Dean to get more comfortable. Or maybe it was just to quench my curiosity. I waited for him to say something about what had happened at the club or just acknowledge my presence. I’d take either. He stared at the television with a transfixed glare but his eyes were not focused on the screen. His brow was smooth, his lips were relaxed and smooth, but the tension in his shoulders was clear as he sat with his back propped up against the headboard. He had something on his mind and I didn’t know him well enough to guess.

“We killed two of his,” he muttered, still flipping through the channels as if on automatic pilot. There were only ten channels so I wasn’t sure if he was looking for something or flipping to have something to do.

“Yep.”

“If he finds out, there’ll be war.” His tone was flat and emotionless as if we were talking about something as mundane as a grocery list or taking out the trash.

“Yeah,” I breathed. He finally glanced at me and met my gaze, scrutinizing me as if he’d never seen me before. “So you’re keeping your appointment tomorrow?” I asked.

“I need to know where the Pack loyalties are.” He wasn’t talking to me like I was Danny’s girlfriend or just some human anymore. There was a familiarity and an ease in his voice that looked good on him. Better than I wanted to admit to myself or him.

God, it’s bright out.

The blistering cold wind off the Allegheny River roared around us in an eerie howl that rocked the car back and forth. We sat outside a warehouse that looked like it had been abandoned a couple of decades back. Some of the windows were missing and the metal on the outside of the building had rusted through in spots.

“What do you mean I can’t go in?” I snapped. Even I heard the quiver in my voice as I became agitated, my back straightened and my hands balled into tight fists.

“They don’t know you. You’re not welcome.”

He thought that would end the argument. Ha! I wasn’t about to give up that easily.

“Do you honestly think that it’s a good idea for you to go in there, to an unfamiliar Pack, a possibly
hostile
Pack, alone?” I spoke through clenched teeth. White-hot rage burned through me as I forced each word out.

It was stupid. The whole situation was stupid and he didn’t see it.

“Do you honestly think I would let you go in there alone?” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. My palms started to sweat as my hands shook with anger at the idiocy of his decision.

“Dahlia!” he snapped, his brow furrowed. The volume of his voice wasn’t quite a yell but loud enough to get my attention and it was deep, blissfully and deliciously deep. It was the first time he’d called me by name, ever. My name sounded good as it rolled off his tongue in a harsh frustrated growl. “Stay put,” he ordered. He shoved his forefinger into the car seat near my thigh. His sudden movement caught me by surprise. A small gasp escaped my lips and I flinched in reflex. His tone and the force in his voice made something in the deepest part of me tighten and grow warm.

Oh God!

I ached with arousal, tingling in my core, as I grew warm and wet between my thighs like a badge of shame. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through it, tried to make the humiliation go away. I diverted my thoughts anywhere than on his large, rough hands running all over my naked body.
Shit! Shit! Shit!

My only hope was that he didn’t notice.

I opened my eyes.

Dean’s olive-green eyes flashed that bright Caribbean blue and were focused on me like I was prey. He leaned in to me, his nose only inches from my cheek. He breathed in, taking a long deep lingering breath through his nose. He was too close for me to think, to move. He smelled of the soap rippling off his skin, like soft cologne, like the musky scent of man and the far off fresh scent of a summer among the pine trees of the forest. I closed my eyes again.

This is not happening.

He sat back in his seat, as far away from me as he could get. The hunger in his eyes as they bled to a clear Caribbean blue was clear but the fear that tensed his shoulders and stiffened his limbs was new.

“I . . .”

Dean got out of the car and closed the door before I could finish. He didn’t care what I had to say. I wasn’t sure he was angry any longer but I sure as hell was. I hope he didn’t think that my embarrassment would keep me in the car. It wouldn’t.

Waiting until he was inside, I got out of the car and circled around to the far side of the building. The choppy cold river lapped at the pier on the other side of the warehouse, filling the morning with the soothing sound of water. The warehouses in this district were old and built like carbon copies of each other. Ladders lined the riverfront on the outside for roof access. I’d need a tetanus shot when I got home but I had a way in. I made sure my gun was secure and I started climbing.

The ladder was a lot easier than the tree outside of Patrick’s house. Straight up with no fuss and no ruined clothing. Always a bonus when I didn’t have to go to the dry cleaners.

I cleared the roof and tip toed across the uneven, warped tin roof. That wavy, gleaming surface reflected the sun back up into my eyes until I thought I was blind. I crept along as softly as I could in biker boots with werewolves inside that had superhuman hearing. I kept my fingers crossed and hoped for the best. My retinas burned as I squinted and tried to block the bright ass light from my eyes. But I made my way across the roof in record time, kneeling by the trap door in the far left-hand corner. I just hoped that it wasn’t rusted or welded shut.

I gripped the handle of the trap door. It was rough and rust covered in my hand but I grabbed it and lifted the door as slow as my muscles and patience would permit to avoid the hinges squeaking or grinding.

I blinked, not expecting the bright light, both natural and artificial, coming from the hanging circular caged fluorescents similar to any found in ordinary warehouses or airplane hangars. A group of about thirty people hung around the back edge of the open space in a semicircle. They clustered around a man in his early 50s with graying hair framing his temples. The same grayish tint scattered through his dark coal hair, giving him a nice salt-and-pepper coloring. He was fit and probably lifted weights to build up all that muscle in his upper body. He wore ragged, ripped jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt that clung tight over his chest.

Dean stood alone facing the older man with his Pack behind him but he didn’t seem weak or even outnumbered, which surprised me. But I couldn’t allow him to face this alone. He needed my help whether he admitted it or not.

Ours
, she whispered through my mind.

I shook that voice away and focused on Dean instead.

The two men stood in the middle of the open space had a distance between them that seemed oceans apart but no hostility that I could sense. The power filling the warehouse was hot but not antagonistic. The older man appeared comfortable, relaxed, and had an air of superiority that seemed forced.

Dressed in dark green cargo pants with a black T-shirt and combat boots, Dean looked forceful and dangerous. He was playing submissive for the older man, trying so hard to contain what he was—to seem somehow, less. The heat of Dean’s power came off as static and not as overwhelming as I knew it could be. I couldn’t hear anything but mumbled voices below and decided it was time to breach the building.

Catwalks, almost ten feet below the roof, lined the ceiling of the warehouse in perpendicular paths covering the entire building. I gripped the edges of the trap door and swung my legs into the open hole, dangling them over the empty space of the warehouse below. I sat on the edge, waiting for my moment as I took a few deep breaths, filling my lungs with the hot air of the warehouse and tried not to look down.

I hopped off the roof and swung into the void of empty space in a controlled swing toward the hovering catwalk. The muscles in my biceps burned as I lowered myself down, slow and controlled. My feet almost touched the grated walkway hanging beneath me. I was only eight or ten inches too high, dangling as my muscles ached with the exertion. The catwalk had no handrails or anything to hold onto when I dropped, just a grated metal walkway hanging from the ceiling.
I can’t miss this.

I held my breath and dropped the last few inches to the catwalk. When my feet touched down, I released the breath I’d been holding tight in my lungs, clenching my hands around the edges of the catwalk until my feet were solid on the jostling metal.

I stood on shaky legs as I regained my balance. The catwalk swayed a few inches back and forth with each step I took. The image of me plummeting to my death flashed in my mind’s eye and I scrunched my eyes shut for a moment to regain my center. I inched along the outside edge of the warehouse until I heard Dean’s voice clear, wafting up to my ears.

“Gaoh,” Dean said in a voice that boomed, echoing in the empty building. All the pleasantries had been said and both men were ready to get down to business. He dropped to one knee and took the older wolf’s hand in his own, then pressed his forehead to the back of the older man’s hand and waited. A breath of a moment passed before the other man spoke.

“Dean,” the older werewolf said in a tone that carried a note of pleasure as well as caution. His face was blank of any emotion and his stance was imposing, as if he was trying to impress the younger man. His energy, on the other hand, prickled with anticipation, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. He tried to push his power over Dean and best him, like dumping hot coals over my skin but I could feel how much it cost him as the power waned. Dean’s scorching hot power filled the space easily like liquid, hot magma without the effort the older man had to force.

“You may rise,” he said with a smirk. “We are equals, after all.” Dean rose to his feet, acknowledging the older man with a quick nod. They weren’t, though. He knew it. Dean knew it, and now I knew it, too.

“We are equals. But you have your Pack behind you and I stand alone.”

“Not quite alone, I think.” The older man turned a quirk of a smile up to me, hiding in the rafters.

Dean turned his head, painfully slow, up toward the catwalk where I stood. His angry energy fell on me like a hot weight, tightening in my throat as I filled my lungs with a deep, heavy breath.

His bulky chest heaved with his aggravation as Dean released a heavy through gritted teeth. I couldn’t hear his exhale but I sure as hell felt it all over my skin as his power fired across my body.

The Pittsburgh Gaoh made a small quick motion with his hand and two men moved from the group along the wall with blinding speed. They bounded up the walls like Spiderman, gripping the walls with nothing but their fingers and toes, propelling their bodies higher and higher. Before I had a chance to bolt in the other direction, they stood next to me, each with one of my arms in their hands.

The man on my right held his hand out for my gun. I drew it from its holster and placed it reluctantly in his hands. I was caught and I knew it but as long as they didn’t search me, I still had a weapon in my boot.

“Be careful with that,” I said. “It was a gift.”

He rolled his eyes and shoved my beautiful gun down his pants.
Fabulous!
I’d have to clean that gun before I touched it again.

The man on my left took a large step forward, followed by the man on my right.

Ah, hell no!

I pulled back against their strength, planting my heels against the rail as their fingers tightened around my biceps. They were about to throw me from the fucking catwalk. “I’ll kill you both before I let you throw me over,” I snarled as I yanked my arms, trying to pry myself from their iron hold.

They lifted me up, my feet leaving the ground as they held me between them. My feet dangled a foot above the catwalk as I struggled to get free, kicking and jerking against them. I braced myself as they stepped in unison off the catwalk.

All three of us went weightless as the catwalk was left behind.

I wanted to scream.

To struggle.

I couldn’t do either.

My breath caught in my throat the second we went airborne and I couldn’t make a sound. My stomach leapt into my throat and my heart stopped.

Their feet touched down on the solid, concrete warehouse floor as if they’d only taken a step. The two men propelled me forward, finally letting go of my arms as I stumbled toward Dean. My legs were wobbly and I had a hard time keeping my feet under me but I managed. I wouldn’t allow the Pittsburgh Pack to see me weak. I just couldn’t, and I can’t even tell you why it was so important. I just knew it was.

I strutted over to stand beside Dean, who looked like a ticking time bomb, standing stiff and rigid, with his chest out. His hands were in fists at his sides and his shoulders tight. His anger filled up the room like we stood too close to a volcano.

He wouldn’t look at me and at that moment I didn’t really care. I was watching the other werewolf with power and a Pack behind him.

“Does she belong to you?” he asked Dean with a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

What the hell?
I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind. I didn’t
belong
to anyone. The Pittsburgh Gaoh held up his hand to stop me with a quirk of his thin lips.

“Yeesss,” Dean hissed.

For the first time, a twinge of fear rippled through my being at having crossed him. The older Gaoh grinned at him, pleasant, unthreatening, almost friendly. But I wasn’t putting down my guard. No way. No how.

“It’s all right, Dean.” He held his hand out to shake. “I can’t control my Eithina either. It’s one of the perks of being Eithina.”

Dean didn’t look any happier once the Pittsburgh Gaoh turned to me.

He smiled, warm and welcoming. It should’ve put me at ease but Dean was still full of tension and
she
growled deep in my mind in warning. Neither of which helped me relax. My fingers tingled in response. She didn’t trust him, and I wanted my gun back.

The werewolf who’d taken the Smith and Wesson, handed back my gun and returned to his position along the wall. I fingered the cold metal of the gun and slid it into its holster with practiced elegance. I was more myself and a bit calmer with it back in my possession.

“My name’s Garret,” the Gaoh said, offering his hand.

I smiled back and hoped it reached my eyes as I shook his hand. Dean shot me a quick glance and I couldn’t read what was hidden behind his cold olive-green eyes. He turned his focus back on Garret and the werewolves behind him.

“Garret, Dahlia,” Dean introduced us, his voice stiff and forced as he said my name.

Garret eyed me as he took a step forward, getting within a few feet of me and taking in my scent.

“She’s not Pack,” Dean mumbled so that only the three of us could hear.

“She smells of you,” he said as if he was rolling my scent around in his mind like a fine wine. “Old magic and . . . vampires,” he growled. He turned up his nose at the scent and took a large step back, putting some space between us. His eyes raked over me, searching for something. His accusing gaze met mine and he asked, “What’s your last name?”

“Sabin,” I answered.

The look on Garret’s face changed. He went on guard, pushing his shoulders forward and shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, turning to Dean in confusion. He didn’t look at me. He watched Garret and the Pack behind him with wary eyes, darting from one wolf to the next.