Night Unbound (5 page)

Lisette bit her lip when she saw his back. He bore no wings. An oddity. She had never seen him without them.

No, tonight his back boasted only bloody stripes that had clearly been carved by a whip.

“You fantasize about me?” she murmured.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I've done little else since I met you.”

Just thinking about it turned her insides to mush and upped her desire another notch. “Zach, this isn't a fantasy. This is a dream. It's
my
dream.”

He faced her, his expression uncertain. “It is?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn't you . . . ?”

“Hit you?” she asked, amused by his confusion despite her concern for him.

He nodded.

“Because I
wanted
you to touch me.” Emboldened by his uncertainty, she closed the distance between them. “And I fantasize about you, too.” Raising a hand, she caressed his strong jaw.

He closed his eyes. Turning into her touch, he covered her hand with one of his own and held it to his cheek.

Minutes passed.

“Zach?” she asked at last.

His lashes lifted. “I'm going to try something else now,” he whispered.

Her body went liquid as she wondered what he would touch next. “Okay.”

He brought her palm to his lips for a kiss . . . then vanished.

Lisette turned in a circle. “Zach?”

Nothing.

“Zach!” she shouted.

It didn't matter if the immortals in David's house heard her. This was a dream. Whatever they—

Crash!

Lisette jerked awake at the sound of . . .

What the hell
was
that?
It had sounded like a wrecking ball hitting the roof.

Sitting up, she reached over and flicked on the lamp beside the bed.

A loud rumbling above drew her eyes to the ceiling.

Tossing back the covers, she grabbed her shoto swords and hit the floor running. Out of the room and up the stairs she flew as whatever or whoever the hell was up there either rolled, leaped, or fell off the roof.

No daylight shone through the curtains in the living room as she sped toward the front door. Good. Still night.

No heartbeat echoed hers, so Tracy must have elected to stay at David's.

Lisette didn't even take the time to look out a front window. She just shut off the alarm, threw open the front door, and barreled outside, intent on taking out whoever the hell had dared to disturb her rest and trespass on her property.

Silence met her. Utter stillness.

Adrenaline racing through her veins, she spun in a circle on the front lawn—sharp eyes taking in every untrampled blade of grass, every undisturbed leaf—and found no interloper.

Yet someone was there. She could feel it. She just couldn't see him. A friend of the fifth vampire perhaps? A minion of a new king?

Tilting her head back, she drew in a deep breath, seeking her prey's scent.

Fresh blood.

Fury filling her—damned vampires tainting her sanctuary with their presence!—she raced around to the back of the house and jerked to a halt.

Shock seized her.

A long, muscled male, garbed only in black leather pants, sprawled facedown on the ground where he had tumbled from the roof. Once beautiful wings lay crumpled atop him, broken and twisted and bloodied.

“Zach!”

In a flash, she knelt by his side. He looked far worse than he had in either of the dreams. And these weren't the kinds of wounds one would sustain in battle. He had been tortured. She could almost see the bones in his wrists where they had been cut by whatever restraints had been used to incapacitate him. His flesh had been laid open by whip and blade in too many places to count.

Dropping her shoto swords, she gently covered the bloodied hand closest to her with one of her own, then brushed his tangled raven locks back from his face with the other. “Zach?”

No response.

“Zach, can you hear me? It's Lisette.”

One of his eyelids twitched, then opened. The other was so swollen his lashes barely lifted.

Lisette lowered her head to the ground beside his so he could see her.

Brown eyes, so dark they appeared black, met hers and struggled to focus.

His hand moved under hers, turning so he could curl his fingers around hers.

“This had better not be another fucking fantasy,” he muttered.

She smiled, despite her worry. “It isn't.”

His eyes closed. His grip on her fingers slackened.

Sitting back on her heels, Lisette glanced around.

Only typical night sounds met her sensitive ears. And Zach's scent, including the blood that coated him, was the only one out of place.

Tilting her head back, she looked up. He couldn't have flown here with his wings as messed up as they were. He must have teleported to the roof and collapsed.

She studied his large, battered form once more. Though he was six foot ten and boasted over two hundred pounds of muscle, lifting him wouldn't be a problem. (Preternatural strength came in handy at times like this.) The problem lay with his wings, what to do with them while she carried him inside.

They were huge. And so damaged. She would have to secure them with something to keep them from dangling and dragging on the ground.

Grabbing one of her discarded shoto swords, she pressed it into Zach's hand and curled his fingers around it. “I'll be right back,” she promised. Taking the other, she zipped around to enter through the front door. It took only seconds to lock it behind her, drop the shoto, grab a blanket from the hall closet, and exit through the back door.

Zach didn't move when she approached.

Lifting his shoulders, she unrolled the blanket under him, then carefully wrapped it around his wings and tucked the ends in the front. It alarmed her that he didn't moan or evince any other sign of suffering at her touch.

Hoisting him over her shoulder, she rose and headed for the back deck. She didn't rush this time, but took slow, steady steps that jostled him as little as possible. Once inside, she locked the door, reset the alarm system, and headed down to the basement.

Her queen-sized bed seemed small when she lowered Zach onto it, facedown to protect his wings. Several of those soft, nearly translucent feathers floated down to the floor when she unwrapped and removed the blanket.

Lisette tossed it in a corner.

Listening to his labored breathing, she wondered what she should do. She had never learned all of the intricacies of first aid, because she had always had a Second to patch her up and had, fortunately, never had to patch up one of her Seconds.

She couldn't bring Tracy into this, because her Second's mind would be an open book to any telepath in the area. Seth would know instantly what had happened and . . . Lisette feared what Seth might do to Zach if he learned Zach's whereabouts. Or what Seth might do to Lisette if he learned she had disobeyed him and aided the immortal.

She ran down a quick checklist of the other immortals in the area, trying to think of any who might be an ally to her in this situation. Picking up the phone, she dialed Ethan's number.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“I need you,” she told him.

“I'm on my way.”

Ethan was great that way.

Lisette exchanged her nightgown for hunting clothes and sat by the bed until she heard Ethan's motorcycle approach.

Heading upstairs, she disabled the alarm system and opened the door just as he leaned against the doorjamb.

He stood about six feet four inches tall with short, wavy black hair, a strong jaw, and the piercing brown eyes common amongst immortals. Broad shoulders tested the seams of a black T-shirt. Nicely developed pecs and biceps flexed as he combed a hand through his hair, leaving it slightly tousled. “I am
so
glad you called,” he said, flashing her a boyish grin. “I
really
need to get laid tonight.”

Rolling her eyes, Lisette stepped back and waited for him to enter. “When I said I needed you, I meant I needed your help.” Closing the door, she locked it, but didn't bother to reset the alarm.

His face fell. “Ah, hell. You mean this wasn't a butt call?”

“Booty call, Ethan. I believe the term is booty call. Honestly, I'm a hundred and thirty years older than you and from France. How can I be more familiar with American slang than you are? You were
born
here.”

He shrugged. “I don't watch a lot of television and my Second is going on sixty. Neither one of us keeps up with whatever the hip kids are saying these days.”

“First, I don't think anyone says
hip
anymore. And second, Ed is going on sixty?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn. He looks like he's in his late thirties.” He was actually pretty hot.

“I know, right? He dates more than I do.” Ethan propped his hands on his black jean-clad hips. “This really wasn't a booty call?”

“No.” Ethan was an American immortal born a century or so ago. Until recently, he had been the youngest immortal in the area.

He had also been Lisette's protégé.

Shortly after vampires had turned Ethan against his will, Seth had deposited him on Lisette's doorstep and assigned her to train and mentor him. Ethan had been handsome and charming and utterly smitten with her. Lisette had been lonely and flattered and physically attracted to him. So, for years, the two of them had carried on a clandestine affair that she didn't think even Seth and David knew about. The relationship had ended amicably. Lisette had begun to fear Ethan might be falling in love with her. (He was something of an anomaly in that his mind was almost impossible to read, even by the elders.) Unable to return the affection, she had reluctantly ended the affair.

But afterward, they had transitioned into what Americans called
friends with benefits
. When the loneliness grew too burdensome or whenever they simply desired a little physical contact, they gave each other a call. A comfortable and convenient arrangement.

Ethan pursed his lips. “Could we turn it into a booty call after I help you with whatever you need me to help you with?”

She smiled. “I don't think so.”

“Damn.” He loosed a half-sigh, half-groan that went on so long it nearly made her laugh. “All right. I'm over it. What do you need?”

She hesitated. “It's . . . delicate.”

His face lit with curiosity. “Okay.”

“And could potentially be dangerous.” How the hell was she going to explain this?

“Okay.”

“By dangerous, I mean it will likely piss off Seth if he finds out,” she clarified.

A moment passed. “Okay.”

That was it. Just okay.

It was a damned shame she didn't love him. At least not the way she still suspected he loved her. He would do anything for her.

“Come with me.” She headed for the hallway and the door to the basement.

“Where's Tracy?” he asked.

“At David's. She'll be spending the day there.”

“At your request?”

“No.”

“Does she know about whatever is going on?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He said nothing more until they reached her bedroom.

Lisette stood quietly beside him, fighting the urge to chew a thumbnail, as he stared down at Zach for several long minutes.

“Where's the shovel?” he asked.

“The shovel?” she repeated, confused.

“Yeah. You want me to bury him, right?”

Her eyebrows flew up. “What? No. He isn't dead.”

“He isn't? I don't hear a heartbeat.”

“It's there. The pauses between are just very long.”

“Oh. Right. There it is. I just heard one.” Another moment passed. “So, who is he?”

Lisette frowned up at Ethan. “Wait. What exactly did you think had happened here?”

He shrugged. “I figured you must have brought a mortal home, gotten carried away, and accidentally killed him.”

“During sex?” she asked incredulously.

“He
is
half naked,” he pointed out. “And you said Seth would be pissed. You know how protective Seth is of mortals. He does
not
react well when an immortal inadvertently kills one.”

“When have you
ever
known me to engage in rough sex?”

“Quebec. 1985.”

She opened her mouth, paused, thought about it, then nodded. “Okay. You're forgiven.”

He sent her a sly glance from the corner of his eye. “For 1985?”

She unsuccessfully fought a smile. “No.”

He laughed. “Then for what?”

“For drawing the freakiest conclusion you could draw from this situation.”

Still grinning, he shrugged. “It was inevitable. I have sex on the brain tonight.”

“So I noticed.” After another minute, she nudged him with her shoulder. “I can't believe you were just going to grab a shovel and bury the body, no questions asked.”

Again he shrugged. “You know I'd do anything for you. What's this guy's story, anyway? What do you want me to do?”

“Patch him up?” she asked hopefully.

“Why would that piss off Seth? Like I said, he loves mortals.”

Lisette motioned to Zach. “He isn't mortal, Ethan. Did you fail to notice his wings?”

“Those are real?”

“Yes.”

“Then he's immortal. Why would patching him up anger Seth? Seth is even more protective of
us
than he is of humans.”

She bit her lip. “Seth isn't terribly fond of him.”

“Meaning . . .”

“All evidence points to him being on Seth's shit list.”

Ethan whistled. “So you thought you'd try living dangerously for a while.”

Now
she
shrugged.

His look turned discerning. “Like him a bit, do you?”

Sometimes she thought Ethan knew her even better than her brothers did.