Wicked Burn (13 page)

“Simone?” He laid her down on a plush bed covered with a wedding band quilt.

Her arm bled profusely, and he ran to the kitchen to grab towels to bring back and press over the wound.

She gasped and reared up, the pain almost unbearable. Tears slid down her face and across her lips.

He kept one hand tight against the wound and gently wiped off her cheeks, his gaze intense. “Sweetheart? Talk to me.”

It was the “
sweetheart
” that did it. Simone Brightston, the Coven witch known far and wide for being tough to the point of bitchy, lost it. Completely. She sat up and fell against his chest, face-first, and bawled like a newborn.

The pain was excruciating, but the fact that somebody had fired kill darts at her hurt as much as the fact that somebody had set her up for trial. That person really wanted her dead.

Now she had a gaping hole in her arm, one that had probably saved her life, and she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to heal it.

So she cried harder into the body of the one man she’d sworn never to be vulnerable with again.

Nick held the sobbing woman against his chest, his other hand banded around the wound to keep her from bleeding out. Frustration edged into fury within him, and it was all he could do not to bellow a battle cry. Oh, whoever had shot her would die, and painfully at that. For now, his focus had to be on Simone and getting her to heal herself.

He’d never seen her cry before.

Not once, and not after her own father had shot her. Not when he’d said good-bye to her. Sure, he’d figured she’d at least shed a few tears privately afterward, but never in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his free hand smoothing down her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

She hiccupped and then slowly lifted her face.

Her eyes glowed like onyx jewels, and tear tracks marred her porcelain skin. Vulnerability clung to her lashes and all but oozed from her.

That quickly, he went from a man who’d fight for her to one who’d die for her. “It’s okay, baby,” he murmured, smoothing damp hair from her face. “I need you to concentrate now.” If she didn’t heal her shoulder soon, it might scar and never be quite as strong. “I had to bite the planekite from you. How much got into your bloodstream?”

“I don’t know.” In front of his eyes, she changed. She shook off the pain, and her eyes focused. Healing tingles filled the air around them.

“That’s my girl.” He caressed down her back.

Even with the healing, pain filled the oxygen around them. So strong and so deep. He’d bitten her all the way to the bone before tearing the poisoned flesh free. “Simone? I need you to open your mind to me.”

She stiffened.

“I promise I won’t pry, but you need to lower your mental shields.” He kept his voice low and soothing. While he could actually pierce her shields since her defenses were so far down, he wouldn’t do so without her acquiescence. No way would he violate her like that, even though their combined powers would be something to see. Dangerous and unbeatable. “Come on. Let me help you.”

She nodded and shut her eyes, leaning her head onto his shoulder.

He tamped down the wild edges of his thoughts, smoothing them over, before sliding inside her head to the pain centers. Sucking deep for gentleness, he slowly spread a balm better than any narcotic around the pain.

She sighed and relaxed against him. The sense of healing and tingling strengthened.

He gingerly removed the towel from her flesh and tried not to grimace. “You can heal. Rebuild the muscle first.”

While she mentally stitched flesh together, he shielded and numbed the pain centers, concentrating on the pain sections and keeping his waves mild. At his age and experience, he could destroy a mind accidentally, and it took more concentration to be gentle and unobtrusive than it did to rip a cerebellum to tatters. He also had to work hard to keep from intruding into other areas of her brain. With her defenses down, he could actually glean images and thoughts if he wanted.

But a promise was a promise.

Her pain neurons flared again, and he wrapped balm around them to provide numbness. Once he again controlled the receptors, he stimulated the base of her brain just a little, promoting power so she could heal faster. It was believed the ability to heal the body was centered in the base of the brain.

She gasped, and her chest swelled.

“Just accept the help and use the power to heal,” he murmured. Even though she’d allowed him into her mind, defensive shields hovered all around, showing her strength.

He needed a woman with such strength, no question. At the thought that somebody had dared attack her while she was on the back of his bike, he growled low.

She sucked in air, and pain slid back into her mind.

Damn it. He needed to concentrate. Slowly, he covered the area again and glanced down to see the hole in her arm nearly healed. Very impressive.

Finally, she leaned back. “I need to call this in.” Dark circles marred the skin under her eyes, and even sitting, she swayed.

“I’ll call it in to the Guard,” Nick said. “You lie down and get some sleep.”

“Wait. Where are we?” she whispered.

He breathed out, and his chest settled. “I bought this cottage when I was going to ask you to be mine forever.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, but she visibly struggled to focus. “Wh-what?”

He kissed her nose. “I thought we’d live here, but fate had another plan, and I said good-bye instead.” The woman was too pale, damn it. “I don’t know how the attackers found my other place, but this one is safe. I promise.”

She opened her mouth to protest even as her eyelids completely closed. He tossed back the covers and lifted her with one arm, setting her beneath the sheet. First, he’d call the Guard and report the attack. Then it was time for him to start maneuvering chess pieces into place.

Though he’d wanted to allow the Coven Nine to prove their honor and do the right thing, he’d never been one to sit back and see where the chips would fall. Simone needed protection, whether she liked it or not.

The question was whether she would forgive him for taking over, and he truly didn’t know the answer. But he could live with her hating him for eternity so long as she
had
an eternity.

He leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead, noting she still had a slight fever from the wound. Never in his life, no longer how many years he lived, would he forget the pain he’d caused her. It had been the only way to save her life, but it had hurt him somewhere deep inside.

She moved restlessly, and he felt her forehead again. Warm. Definitely warm. Perhaps more of the planekite had slipped into her flesh than he’d thought before he’d removed the poison. There was no cure, so there was nobody to call for help.

For now, he just needed to watch her and make sure she didn’t fall into a coma. He’d allow her a couple of hours to fight the fever; if that didn’t work, he’d invade her brain again to help if need be.

For now, he had phone calls to make. He stood, strode over to the fireplace, and yanked loose a round stone at the bottom. Gingerly, he reached in and drew out the Alexandrite ring.

Right where he’d left it.

 

Simone came awake with a strangled gasp, sitting upright in bed.

A gentle arm tugged her back down, and she settled, curling into Nick’s side. “You helped to heal me,” she said.

“I did, but you did most of the work.” He opened one eye to study her. A lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead, and she indulged herself by pushing it out of the way. “You had a fever most of the night from the planekite, but it broke about an hour ago. How are you feeling?”

Weak. Her body felt heavy, as if weighed down by a boulder or three. “I’m feeling much better, thank you.”

“Humph.” The demon rolled over, revealing the sinewed muscle of his chest.

She swallowed. The mineral had knocked her on her butt, and yet she could still feel desire just being near him? Nick had always messed with her sanity.

Right now, she had to keep him from catapulting his people into a war with hers, which seemed more and more likely. But if Zane excommunicated Nick, it would hurt him in ways that she didn’t even think he understood. It also would leave him vulnerable, with no backup should a rogue witch or band of them try to take him out. The protection of one’s people was paramount in the immortal world.

She rolled over and set her chin on his shoulder. The cottage, the one he’d purchased for them, surrounded her. He’d loved her. She’d wondered, and now she knew. “Nick—”

“No.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I’m not listening to you push me away or say it’s too dangerous for us to be together. If you don’t want to be together, that’s your choice, but don’t give me bullshit reasons.”

Anger pricked the back of her neck, intensifying the raging headache still pounding in her temples. “My reasons are not bullshit, and I can protect you as well as you can protect me.”

“I like your strength.” He gently rubbed his thumbs against her temples, and she fought the urge to moan and beg for more. “But I shield you, not the other way around. I’m sorry, Simone, but you’re the one in danger, and I’m not stepping aside while it’s so prominent.”

“You have no right.”

“So give me the right.”

She shook her head. “Did you call and report the attack?”

“Yes, but the soldier I talked to got pissed when I wouldn’t reveal your location, so the conversation was short.”

“The Guard doesn’t like you, and they’re dangerous. Please listen to me about not letting Zane excommunicate you.”

“No.”

He really wasn’t listening to her or watching out for himself at all. There was only one thing she could do. So she scrambled out of the bed. “I need to take a shower and try to regain my strength. Alone.”

He lifted an eyebrow and stretched, elongating smooth, hard muscle. “All right. Call me if you require assistance at any point while you’re naked.”

She rolled her eyes and turned away, her chest feeling compressed as she palmed Nick’s phone. The planekite had impacted her entire system, and her knees felt like jelly as she pretty much limped to the bathroom. Once inside, she turned on the shower and then opened up a chat with the ruler of the entire demon nation.

“It’s about fucking time you called in,” Zane growled, his green eyes ablaze. The demon leader was one long line of muscle and strength in a black shirt with dark jeans. A scar lined his jaw, and faded bruises covered his temple into his black hair. He took one look at Simone and sobered. “Where’s Nick? Is he all right?”

The concern was a good sign.

“No, he isn’t. In fact, he’s about to get himself killed by the Coven Nine, or my enemies, or somebody after Bear, and all he’s worried about is me. You can’t excommunicate him, Zane. If you do, he’ll be a target for way too many people.” Not just witches, either. There were plenty of enemies out there who’d like to take down Nicholai Veis.

Zane studied her. “I have no intention of excommunicating my best friend.”

“That’s a fucking mistake,” came a very pissed-off voice from the doorway.

Hell. Simone’s senses were dulled and way off, and she hadn’t even heard the door open. When Nick strode forward and confiscated the phone from her hand, she didn’t have an ounce of strength with which to fight him. She sat on the edge of the claw-footed tub, her hands trembling.

“Nick. Where the hell are you?” Zane asked, once again sounding angry.

“None of your fucking business,” Nick returned, sounding twice as pissed. “I didn’t protect you for years to have you just throw away the nation because of one soldier. Do your damn job.”

“You did more than protect me. You trained me, and you became my friend, damn it. I never wanted to lead, but you drummed duty and destiny into my head,” Zane bellowed.

Simone winced. Maybe the call had been a bad idea.

“Then do your duty,” Nick said, his voice lowering and the anger dissipating. “We’ve both worked too hard for you to do anything but that.”

Silence ticked by for the briefest of moments, and Simone’s heart sank. The smart move for Zane, for the entire demon nation, was to condemn Nick and his actions.

Finally, Zane spoke. “Nope.”

Nick reared back. “Excuse me?”

“You taught me more than military strategy and survival, Nicholai. You taught me that friends and family are what matters, and that the people who have your back are more essential to life than political allies. I’ve thought this out from every angle.”

“Have you now?” Lines cut into the sides of Nick’s mouth.

“Yes. I could step down and come help you, while allowing my brother to lead. You and I would certainly put up a good fight against these witches.”

“Hell, no.” Nick’s knuckles turned white from his grip on the phone.

“I agree. Sam doesn’t want to lead, and the demon nation isn’t quite settled yet from my taking over, so I couldn’t do that to my brother,” Zane said.

Nick’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. I’m glad you’re seeing reason.”

“So I remain as leader, and the entire demon nation fully supports your actions to date and in the future. As far as the world is concerned, you’re acting under official orders.”

Relief slid through Simone.

“Damn it, Zane,” Nick growled.

“Do you think I don’t understand the risks you took for years, trying to protect me?” Zane growled right back. “We’re the same as family, so deal with it. In the vernacular of the day, Zane out.” The line went dead.

Nick stared at the quiet phone, his brows furrowing.

Simone bit back a laugh.

“Did he just say ‘Zane out,’ and throw an imaginary microphone?” Nick asked slowly.

Simone pursed her lips. “Well. It is the vernacular of the day.”

He turned toward her. “I don’t think I’ve ever fully appreciated your difficulties working with family.”

She nodded. “It’s a pain in the arse, it is.”

Nick’s phone buzzed, and he lifted it. “Veis.” He listened and then handed the phone to Simone. “Your cousin.”

Simone took the phone. “Hello?”

“It’s Moira. There were multiple attacks on Coven members last night.”

Simone closed her eyes. “I know. I took a dart to the shoulder, but I’m all right now. Who else was hit?”

Moira cleared her throat. “Your mother, my mother, and Peter were hit with darts, while Brenna was attacked but not hit. The Guards covered Nessa and Sal, so they’re okay. The entire Council was targeted.”

Simone shoved to her feet. “How bad are our moms?”

“Our mothers are in intensive care, and Peter is recuperating. The Guards with him kept all darts but one from nicking him.” Moira’s voice held fear.

Simone drew in air. “Are they at the hospital?”

“No. They’re with Doc Pelandrone at your mom’s secondary safe house.”