Authors: Jess Haines

Stalking the Others (16 page)

BOOK: Stalking the Others

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“Shia, my offer still stands,” Jack said, drawing my attention back to him. “You can sit this one out if you want to. You’re too hurt to be much use, anyway. ”

Well. At least he was being honest about it.

“Thank you.”

Chaz looked back and forth between us. “Offer? What offer?”

I gave him as hostile a look as I could muster. “That’s none of your business.”

Jack shook his head and rose to his feet with a soft groan. For the first time since I had woken up, I noticed how tired he looked. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked like he’d lost weight over the last few days. That was somewhat alarming, considering he didn’t have much weight to lose to begin with. His illness was accelerating. This battle would probably be his last.

Then again, I’d thought the same when I had walked into that house a few days ago. If anything, that just went to show how little I knew. It was possible he’d prove me wrong and continue soldiering on for another decade or two.

Nikki gave him some support as he shuffled out of the room. The Sunstrikers all regarded me with expressions that ranged from ambivalence to curiosity. Save for Chaz. I couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking. His eyes were hooded, his brows knitted, and he had a slight twist to his lips as though he was stuck somewhere between angry and amused.

“Would you excuse us?”

Chaz didn’t word it as a request. Nick, Simon, Cindy, and the other Weres followed in Jack and Nikki’s tracks without a word of protest.

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked down at me, arms folded across his broad chest, a muscle in his cheek twitching. He’d healed most of the silver burns on his face already, save for where I’d broken his skin. Those would leave behind telling, minor scars. One eye was a little swollen, and there was a bit of discoloration around his jaw, but that was all. Aside from that, and the missing tooth, you would never have known I’d smashed his face in just a few days ago.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I am sorry. For everything.”

I stared up at him, not replying.

“You were right. Going behind your back with Kimberly was a shitty thing to do. I shouldn’t have lied to you. Assuming you had slept with the vampire was... Well, I didn’t know what to think at the time. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, and for using it against you. You were right to try to kick my ass. I know it will never be enough, but ... I’m sorry.”

“Chaz,” I said, then paused, not sure what to say. He looked at me expectantly, like he half hoped that I would say everything was okay now, and we could go back to the way we had been. I looked into his puppy dog eyes, that tentative ray of hope in his gaze, and hated that he still had the power to move me. I’d thought my heart had been shredded into so many pieces that nothing was left to feel.

Instead of burning hatred, all I felt was exhaustion.

“Chaz,” I repeated, gathering up what remained of my good sense and clutching the memories of his betrayals like a security blanket, “don’t bother. Just... don’t.”

When it became clear I wasn’t about to say anything else, that hopefulness in his expression faded behind a thundercloud of anger. He gave me a wounded look before spinning on a heel and stalking out.

Why did I feel like the asshole in this conversation?

Chapter 22

Left to my own devices, I lay back on the couch and just hurt for a while. It wasn’t particularly productive, but without the others there to distract me, there was too much pain for me to do much more than work on breathing. Nikki came by with a bowl of something that she pushed into my hands, but I wasn’t hungry and didn’t bother eating it.

After a while, long after sunlight had stopped streaming in through the windows to be replaced by moonlight and reflections of city lights, I figured out why my stomach was doing its own protesting version of the Macarena. It wasn’t hunger. I couldn’t stand the smell of myself. Or the ache in my joints. I needed a shower or bath like nobody’s business.

Getting up to take one seemed completely out of the question, but the desperate need to get the stink of the battle with Chaz off of me was my number one priority. I couldn’t think with the smell of him on me. It was there, particularly where he’d touched me when he pushed me down. Right between my breasts.

I couldn’t get clean fast enough.

Though the pain was phenomenal, I carefully rolled on the couch, legs first, so I wouldn’t have to bend my back too much. Experience from the last time I’d busted a few ribs had unfortunately made me expert at figuring out how to get around despite that type of injury. It took a long time, and a few breathless curses, but I made it to my feet without adding any new injuries.

Walking and breathing were pushing me to the limits of my endurance, but I still managed to make my way to the shower. This felt far too close to how badly I’d been beaten after the fight with David Borowsky. Similar to how I had felt after the belt had used up all my reserves and I’d gone looking for the White Hats earlier this month. Perhaps some of this was just a holdover from the belt’s using me up like a battery during the battle with Chaz, draining me to the point of no return.

Lying down in a bath would have been amazing if I could have bent at the waist. Instead I gave the tub a longing look before making do with a shower, peeling the borrowed clothes off and stepping into a spray that was almost too hot to stand. It washed away the dirt and the ash, but no matter how much soap I used, Chaz’s musky scent clung to me.

There was something dark and earthy there, underneath it, like the simple act of touching me had woken something dormant under my skin. It took a while for me to realize that it didn’t matter how many times I washed or scrubbed—it wasn’t coming off.

Was this another sign of me turning? Was I marked by the pack somehow? Turning into a Sunstriker?

Feeling queasy, I stayed under the spray until my skin wrinkled. I couldn’t keep my arms above my head long enough to work shampoo or conditioner into my hair, so I had to make do with a few quick swipes of liquid-covered fingers and hope for the best.

When the water was off, I attempted to wring my hair out, but by then lifting my arms that high was unbearable. I couldn’t even wrap the heavy mass in a towel. The clothes I’d been wearing were too soiled for me to wear again, so I’d have to find something to change into outside the bathroom.

Resuming my zombie-shuffle, I went to the room down the hall that had the dresser with my clothes in it that Keith had brought from the house on City Island, and shut the door behind me. The belt was on top of the dresser, left there for me in a neat coil. There were signs that other people had dropped their things off in here as well. Bags and backpacks, mostly. The smell of Were was overpowering in the enclosed space. I wondered where they were all sleeping.

One thing I hadn’t considered was how hard it was to pull clothing on without help. It had been many months since I’d had to try that after having been beaten to crap. I had the added pain of my spine injury to go along with it this time, too. The more I thought about it, the more I was surprised Dr. Morrow wasn’t hovering over me, and that I was on my feet at all.

The doc hadn’t been around for a while, actually. Maybe he had something to do with whatever that other project was the White Hats had been working on concurrent with dealing with my problems. The project nobody had yet seen fit to tell me about. I had the feeling they never would.

Placing the towel on top of the dresser, I selected another T-shirt, some underwear, and a pair of jeans. The bitch of it was, I couldn’t bend over or put my arms up high enough to put any of it on. Wherever I’d found the strength to get my clothes off before the shower, it had deserted me now.

Tears of frustration pricked behind my eyelids as I leaned against the dresser, balling up the clothing in my fists.

There was a click, and the door opened behind me. I barely had time to grab the towel to cover my nakedness before Chaz walked in.

He shut the door behind him. I snarled at him, clutching the towel closer. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing in here? Get out!”

Expression set, he approached me, reaching out. I grabbed for the belt, yanking out a stake and holding it before me in warning, though every muscle in my body protested at the sudden movements.

He stopped. Closed his eyes and took a breath. Exhaled and opened them again, some of the harsh lines easing out of his features. “Relax. I heard the shower.” Spreading his hands, he nodded at the pile of clothes at my feet. “You’re in no shape to handle that yourself. I knew you’d need help. So here I am.”

I lifted the stake a bit higher, protecting my modesty with the towel as best I could one-handed. Energy of some kind buzzed against my fingertips through the leather. The belt was awake, and it wanted to be used—but Chaz would be able to stop me long before I managed to put it on.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” I hissed. “You haven’t got the right.”

“No? Who do you think changed you? Cleaned you up after the fight?”

Heat suffused my cheeks. I hadn’t wanted to think about it before. Having him throw that in my face was enough to prompt a wish for the floor to open up and swallow me—but I didn’t give any ground.

“Would you prefer I get Nikki? Or maybe Jack—”

“No!” I practically shrieked it. He didn’t seem overly impressed by my outburst. I repeated myself, quieter this time, but no less emphatic. “No. Nikki hates me, and I don’t ever want Jack touching me. Just leave me alone. I’ll deal with it.”

The one raised brow was answer enough.

“I’ll handle it. Just fuck off. Find some other girl to feel up.”

“Christ, what do you take me for? I’m not here to feel you up. I know you need help. Stop acting like a brat and let’s get this over with.”

God, I hated him. Hated this whole situation.

As badly as I wanted to use the stake on him, I couldn’t handle getting dressed by myself. Chaz had helped me with that mundane task, along with a million others, when I’d been recuperating from the fight against the mad sorcerer. He’d managed to keep his hands to himself all those times, waiting patiently until I was ready to do more.

This would be no different. I kept telling myself that as I reached out with a shaking hand to drop the stake on the dresser next to the belt.

He took the towel away—tugging a little, since I’d gripped it with both hands so hard that my knuckles went white—and set it aside. As I stood there, naked, I looked anywhere but at him while he arranged the clothing I’d selected. He helped me balance, not saying anything when I was forced to grab his shoulder as he knelt to lift my feet so I could step into the panties. His grip on my ankles was hot enough that it burned against my skin, even through the heat of my embarrassment.

His fingertips skimmed against the outside of my calves, then my thighs, tracing a scalding trail. The scent of him was thick enough to choke on and only made me feel sicker than I had been in the shower.

He repeated the process with the jeans and then stood, carefully doing up the zipper and button for me. His voice, when he spoke, was cold and unmoved, though there was something under the surface that I wished I couldn’t smell on him.

“Is there a bra? There’s only the shirt here.”

Desperately avoiding his eyes, I swallowed. Hard. “No. I don’t think... no.”

With a detached nod, he reached for the shirt. As gentle as he’d been dealing with the rest, he helped tug it on over my head and maneuver my arms until I was able to tug it down myself over my breasts and stomach. Only then was I able to look at him. He was staring at my chest as though he was still seeing what was under the cloth.

He said something, but I was too rattled to get it right off. “Excuse me?”

“You need socks? Or are we done here?”

“We’re done.” I’d scream if he touched me again.

Without another word, he turned and walked back to the door. As much as it hurt to think the thought, let alone say it aloud, I opened my mouth.

“Wait.”

Hand on the knob, he looked over his shoulder at me. There was no warmth there. No desire in the way he looked at me, though I could smell it as strongly as the apple-scented shampoo I’d dumped in my hair.

“Chaz, I—thank you.”

That forbidding expression remained, his blue eyes gleaming with whatever plans were roiling through that head of his. With a nod, he turned away and continued out the door, leaving me alone with my own thoughts and regrets.

He hadn’t touched me inappropriately, but the memory of his skin on mine was going to haunt me for days to come. If I survived for days, that was.

Warmth trickled down my upper lip. I pressed my fingertips under my nose and was unsurprised when they came away bloody.

I glanced at the belt, lying inert on top of the dresser. Spreading my fingers, I held my hand out, red-speckled digits splayed a few inches above the coiled leather. Energy buzzed in a prickle over my skin, marching along my palm until it reached my wrist. A throbbing sensation built in my bloodstream, pounding along in time with my heartbeat, felt strongest in that hand.

Curious, I closed my fist around the leather, right over one of the runes branded behind the buckle.

‘
I thought you were dead
.’ The belt’s voice was a faint whisper, much like it had been the first time I’d worn it. Barely penetrating my consciousness, but still there, a reassuring and familiar presence. ‘
You were gravely injured. I’m surprised the beast dragged you out
.’

“Me too, Isaac,” I said, keeping my voice low. No telling what the Weres might overhear.

‘
It will speed the healing process if you wear me. You still can. There are changes going on in your body, but it’s not yet to the point where you can no longer use me.
’

“Tempting as the idea is, I don’t think the Weres in the house would take kindly to that,” I replied.

I filled the belt in on what had happened since I had woken. About the Sunstrikers in the apartment and the deal they had made with the White Hats. How I was going to be sitting out on the fight against the Ravenwoods and spending the night of the full moon locked up in a cage in case I turned.

The belt mulled that over, not responding for a while. I didn’t do anything to rush it, leaning my hip against the dresser and resting my hand on the leather while I waited.

‘
Take me with you tomorrow
.’

That response surprised me. “Why?”

‘
This could go one of two ways. You will either turn, in which case you no longer wish to survive, yes?
’

I didn’t answer.

‘
You can use one of the stakes to end it if you must. It would be preferable to being at the mercy of the White Hats. They will prolong your death
.’

My tongue felt thick in my mouth, making it hard to speak. “You can’t be sure of that.”

‘
I’ve seen enough through your eyes to know that you would not be treated with mercy by the White Hats. Bo is your ally, yes, but he will wish you dead as badly as the others already do if he sees you turn into a monster. And Jack only sees you as a tool to use to achieve his own ends. If, by some chance, you do not turn, you will need me.’

“Not that I see that happening, but why?”

‘To destroy the vampire.’

I stilled. A sudden, intense desire to hunt Royce burned in my blood, seared in my mind like a brand.

‘He must be stopped. Before he hurts you again. Hurts your friend. You must rescue her.’

Sara. Oh, my God,
Sara.

She’d been in the hands of the vampires for too long. They could have done anything to her. Anything at all. She had no legal recourse. No way to go to the cops if something went wrong. And I’d left her with them.

They could be feeding on her. Using her. Manipulating her, the way Royce had manipulated me.

‘
Yes
,’ the belt whispered. ‘
Yes. You will stop it
.’

“I will,” I said. My voice shook, but new purpose gave me strength. I had to make things right. “I’ll stop him. For good.”

BOOK: Stalking the Others

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