Wicked Burn (12 page)

In the underground hearing chambers, sitting by himself at the defense table, Nick gave Vivienne Northcutt, Simone’s mother, a hard look as the questioning into his actions continued. She sat at the power position on the Council, surrounded by the other healthy members, including Simone.

“Again, Mr. Veis, who alerted you to Simone’s presence in the Seattle penthouse?” Peter Gallagher asked.

Nick bit back a sharp retort. “Again, Mr. Gallagher, I know where Simone is at all times, and I have since the war ended.”

She turned a lovely shade of pink at that, but her eyes appeared anything but delighted.

Peter shook his head. “Did the Enforcers ask you to get Simone to safety?”

“The Enforcers did not ask a thing of me.” Nick kept his gaze stoic and his expression irritated.

“Why the hell have you been stalking my daughter?” Vivienne asked, her lips set in a flat line.

Because she’s fucking mine.
“I’d say ‘stalking’ is a little harsh,” he drawled.

They’d been at it for over an hour, and he was growing bored in general and pissed at Viv in particular. While he’d known for a century the woman didn’t think him good enough for her daughter, the time for waiting had ended. He would not stay away from his woman.

Vivienne glared back from her position in the center of the Nine.

He was the strategic leader for the entire demon nation, damn it. Simone could do worse. He kept his face in harsh lines to mask the minor hissy fit he seemed to be having in his head. His lips twitched with the humor of the entire damn situation.

Simone lifted an eyebrow from where she was seated next to her mother.

He shrugged. “What exactly is this hearing about anyway?” he demanded finally.

Viv flashed her teeth. “We’re here to discover if your actions amount to a declaration of war, or if you just broke our laws. In that case, we can just behead you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve already explained that Simone and I were just going for a ride.” The more irritated he became, the ruder his answers. At some point, Simone had started glaring at him, as well, and if she didn’t stop it, he was going to cross the chamber and drag her over the desk to show her just whom she belonged to. Challenging him, especially in front of the other witches, was a dangerous idea, and she needed to learn that lesson and fast.

“We have more questions,” Viv said grimly.

“Great. Are we finished with the death threats for the day?” Nick asked.

“The day is young,” Simone shot back.

Oh, hell no. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather our foreplay took place in private, little bunny.”

She drew back, and he fought a full-on smile. Too many people had either bowed to her beauty and intelligence or judged her for it; somebody needed to show the spirited witch that the world had some limits, even for her.

He was just the guy for the job.

“You’re out of order,” Viv bellowed.

“I thought this wasn’t a United States courtroom,” he said calmly.

Tension spiraled through the room, and he settled, more than prepared to battle the row of irritated witches. There had been enough polite talk about death, and it was time to get serious, whether they liked it or not. “Simone, let’s go. We need to go through the silly documents handed over by the prosecutor before your ridiculous trial begins.”

More tension. What? Had he insulted them with the “silly” and “ridiculous”? Good.

Viv tapped her fingers on the stone. “I don’t think you take us very seriously, Mr. Veis.”

“I don’t.” Why hide it? “Every one of you knows that Simone would never commit treason, and yet you go forward with this farce.”

“The evidence is damning,” Peter what’s-his-name said.

“It’s bullshit,” Nick replied.

Viv cleared her throat, and for the briefest of seconds, fear glimmered in her eyes before she masked it. “I’m sure the evidence will prove Simone innocent.”

What the fuck was she afraid of? Nick narrowed his gaze, gently probing into Viv’s head. She clamped shields into place so quickly his frontal lobe ached, but in that one second, he had seen real fear for her daughter—and not because of the trial. What the hell?

She glared at him, no doubt pissed as hell with his attempted intrusion into her brain.

He glared back. “Councilwoman Northcutt? I’d like to interview you as part of my investigation.”

“My statement is in the files,” Viv said calmly, all but daring him to call her on the fear.

Simone’s eyebrows arched down, and she tilted her head to the side. “What’s going on?”

The remainder of the Coven Nine looked on, a couple of them seeming to realize that something was up.

“Nothing,” Nick said, turning toward the smooth wall. “I’m finished with this place for now.”

The gavel smashed down. “Adjourned,” Viv all but spat.

The present members of the Coven Nine all left with varied looks of irritation and amusement on their faces.

Simone swept down toward him, her skirts brushing the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed.

“They just wanted to rattle either you or me, and I’m not in the mood for it.” He shrugged and grasped her arm. “Let’s go through the files. Your stupid trial starts tomorrow.”

“Stop with the sarcasm.” Fire flashed from her shoulder and burned his hand.

He released her and gave a low growl of warning. “I wasn’t kidding about the foreplay.”

She huffed and opened the wall, hustling down the carpeted tunnel. “Do me a favor and take a step or two off the red, would you?”

Funny. He followed her, taking measure, memorizing the tunnel and its alcoves. They reached the rear of the ancient church where the motorcycle attack had taken place, and he wasn’t surprised to see Guard soldiers fanning out from the area.

He had several bikes stored in Ireland, and he’d ridden with Simone on the back of one to the hearing. Not for a second had he thought the bike wouldn’t be right where he’d left it, considering the Guard soldiers all around. He reached the bike and held a hand out for Simone to jump on behind him. She did, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Now, didn’t that feel good.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Why does your mom dislike me so?”

Simone leaned her chin on his shoulder, putting their lips in very nice proximity. “I think she wants me with a purebred witch, considering my lineage. She also knows I want to lead the Nine, and ambition is everything to her. And, well, our last breakup left me a bit bereft, I’m afraid. As a mother, she probably doesn’t want to see that happen again.”

Bereft? If Simone was willing to reveal that much vulnerability, she had to have been much more than bereft. Suddenly, his chest ached, and his earlier humor dissipated. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“The past is over, and so long as you understand I’m not going back, we’re good.” She leaned in and brushed a kiss across his mouth. “There’s no reason we can’t enjoy each other right now.”

“I know that you’re not the same girl you were, and to be honest, I like the badass woman even better.” He smiled against her, surprised by how little she knew him. “I plan to enjoy you to the fullest, but if you think this is casual, think again.”

She drew back. “Nick, I—”

He half-turned and captured her mouth, not caring whether the soldiers saw. The kiss was hard and forceful, because he was done holding back. Finally, he raised his head, gratified to see her eyes cloudy and her lips a pretty pink. “Simone. In case you need it spelled out, I’m making a claim.”

Her eyes darkened to a mysterious midnight he couldn’t read. “I’m not the type of woman who is claimed, Veis.”

“Ah, bunny. You’re exactly the kind of woman who needs to be claimed, and anybody not up to the task would bore you immediately. Let me be perfectly clear that I’m up to the task.” Hell. He was probably the only male on earth who could claim her, the only one with the necessary power, spirit, and brains. “Look at it as an adventure, or look at it as something you want, but either way, you will be claimed.”

The flush across her face deepened with anger and something more. Need.

He understood her. She was fiercely independent and had never been able to rely on a male before, which made his path not only more difficult but entirely worth it in the end. She wanted to trust and belong . . . and only late at night, under the covers, did she let that craving slip with him. He’d bet his last stock market fund that she’d never even hinted at her vulnerability with another male.

Whether she knew it or not, she’d made her choice.

Turning around, he gunned the motor and roared out of the quiet parking area, speeding across Dublin. Rain pummeled down, leaving the cobblestones quiet and wet.

They really should invest in helmets at some point.

A silver Escalade kept pace, no doubt the Guard. He didn’t require their assistance, and he sure as hell didn’t want them knowing the location of his safe house. He angled a command over his shoulder. “Hold on.”

She nodded and tucked herself into his body in a display of trust she probably didn’t realize she’d shown. Something in him, an awareness deep and dark, roared in a sense of possession.

He was tired of quashing part of himself; the second he’d taken her in the alley, he’d unleashed his true nature, and there was no bottling it up again. Even if he wanted to, which he did not.

Years ago, he’d memorized the layout of the Dublin streets, and he’d kept updated through construction and modernization. All the same, the Coven Nine had resources even he couldn’t penetrate with his intel, but hopefully they hadn’t found all of his routes, either.

So he took it easy through several streets and back alleys, gradually increasing his speed, and eventually ducking into an alcove he’d had created just a year ago. Set into a century-old brick building that housed antique books and maps, he’d found peace there many a time while keeping watch over Simone.

His duties for Zane hadn’t allowed for much vacation time, but every once in a while, he’d found himself in Ireland keeping an eye on her.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Alcove. They’ll pass us, and we can maneuver around to my apartment. It’s only a couple of blocks away.”

She nodded, her face resting against his shoulder blades, her long hair plastered to his left arm from the rain. They waited several minutes until the traffic sounds behind them faded.

Then he slowly pulled out of the alley and took quiet back streets until they reached the front of his apartment building. “We’re here. Let me pull underground to parking, and then we go at full speed for the elevator.” He didn’t expect anybody to be waiting, but it didn’t hurt to be careful.

Simone nodded against his back without saying a word. The woman must be exhausted.

He began to drive down when instinct tickled his neck. Simone stiffened behind him as if sensing danger, as well.

Nick clutched the brake and swung the bike around, trusting her to hold on.

A woman ran out of the underground garage, gun out and shooting. Darts impacted his arm from his elbow to his neck, and a sharp pain attacked his nerves. Shit. Planekite. He swung again, trying to keep his body between Simone and the darts.

He opened the throttle, and the bike jumped out of the garage, careening into the street.

More darts hit his other arm, and Simone gave a low cry of pain.

Hell. She’d been hit. How many darts, he couldn’t be sure. Too many could be deadly.

“Hold on, baby,” he muttered, opening the throttle wide open.

 

Simone’s vision wavered, but she held on to Nick, her fingers curling into his abdomen. At least one dart had hit her arm, and from the instant numbness, there might be more.

Nick swung the bike around and shot directly into an alley behind a florist’s shop. He cut the engine and jumped off, instantly taking inventory and yanking a dart out of her shoulder. “Hell.” Quick motions had her shirtsleeve ripped open to reveal a puncture wound already turning reddish purple. “It didn’t hit a vein.”

Was that good? She swayed, her mind fuzzing.

“Hell, Simone. This is going to hurt.” His fangs dropped low and sharp, glinting in the soft light, even through the rain.

She frowned and tried to focus. “Huh?”

He grabbed her arm, tight, and she realized his plan. “No—” Panic had her trying to yank free, but he held firm. A quick pull forward, and a ducking of his head, and his fangs pierced her skin.

Raw pain, almost agony, exploded in her bicep. “Nick—”

He gave no quarter, biting until his fangs met and scraped against bone.

She struggled against him, reality shutting down and only survival instinct remaining. Her strength was no match for his, and she cried out, tears flowing down her face.

He jerked back, ripping away a chunk of flesh, and she screamed. Darkness wavered around her, and she blinked, using every ounce of stubborn will to remain conscious.

“I’m sorry.” He swung a leg over the bike behind her and ignited the engine, pulling her back against his body. “Just hold on to the bars until we get to a different safe house.” His hoarse voice sounded like he’d eaten glass, and the tension emanating from him pricked against her skin until she shivered.

Having no choice, she leaned back against him and let him take her weight with one arm banded around her waist. Her thighs tightened on the seat, and she tried to keep her balance, but she needed his strength. He drove with one hand, jerking too hard a couple of times, but keeping the bike moving.

Finally, they reached the outskirts of Dublin and drove through several hills, reaching a tidy hut barely visible through trees. He drove along an overgrown path and drew to a fast halt by a front door. He jumped from the bike and lifted her, hustling through the storm and into a quaint one-bedroom cottage.