Witch Way to Turn (3 page)

Breena’s car was still in the driveway. So was Stan’s truck.

If that drunk has touched her…

God Himself would have to save Stan, because nothing else would. The others who’d tried to harm her had gotten off easy in comparison.

For once, Myles was thankful to be a vampire. Within sixty seconds, he’d scoured the entire house. No Breena. No Jenny. Only Stan, motionless on the floor in Jenny’s bedroom, his heart still beating. For now.

Splinters of glass covered the hardwood, along with a streak of blood. Breena’s. He recognized the familiar richness. He clenched his hands at his side, trying to contain his fury.

It had been years since Myles had used his tracking abilities, but the smell of her blood stirred up a dark lust. When his instincts took over, his love for Breena seemed to go by the wayside, replaced by the desire to taste her. Once the moment had passed, he’d feel shame. But for now, he inhaled deeply, savoring the scent. He devoured it with his mind, imagined which way she’d turned.

And then, there she was. A silvery echo of Breena in the bedroom, like a ghost being pulled away from him on an invisible string. He followed where her essence led.

The hallway, the stairs, the front porch, her car and, finally, the woods.

Myles heard Jenny crying before he saw them lying on the ground. Their hearts both beat in the distance, though Breena had passed out. Relief hit him harder than he could’ve imagined. He couldn’t lose them too.

He took the vampire speed down a notch or two and ran up to them at a human pace, trying to sound winded.

Jenny looked up as he approached. “Myles.” She spoke between sobs. “Bea’s hurt.”

“It’s okay, kiddo. I’ll make her better. Don’t worry.” He bent to examine her face. “Are you okay?” Blood coated her mouth, but it wasn’t Jenny’s.

“Yeah, Bea saved me.”

“Hop on.” Myles patted his shoulder.

Jenny climbed onto his back, and he scooped Breena up. Her limp, fragile body draped across his arms. He knew she wasn’t exactly breakable, but seeing her like this made him want to burn.

At his Camaro, Jenny buckled herself in the front seat while Myles got Breena strapped into the back. In an effort not to sling her around, he drove slower than normal.

It was only a ten minute drive to his apartment, but it seemed like an eternity knowing Breena lay in the backseat, injured. He should’ve exchanged blood with her before now. What was wrong with him? There was no price too great for Breena’s safety.

When they reached his duplex he parked and handed the key to Jenny. “Unit seven, kiddo.”

“I’m on it like a sonnet.” Jenny grinned at him.

He nodded, but really he wanted to melt. He knew the rhymes were her and Breena’s special thing. Stooping into the backseat, he unfastened the belt and lifted Breena out of the car. She was ice cold.

His apartment beamed with light. It appeared Jenny had flipped on every switch she could put a hand on. Carefully, he laid Breena on the couch.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Myles nodded toward the hallway.

Jenny bounded ahead of him and dashed into the first room she came to. The bathroom light was already on.

Once he’d gotten the blood off her mouth, Myles led Jenny into his bedroom. She climbed on top of the bed and fell asleep the moment her little head hit the pillow. It was too hot for the comforter, so he grabbed a thin sheet from the hall closet and spread it over her. The air-conditioning in his apartment would lose the battle against the August heat if maintenance didn’t replace it soon. Maybe at a different point in his existence he would’ve made a bigger deal out of it, but he didn’t want the Witches’ Council riding him any more than it already did. Sometimes he missed the finer things in life, but he’d take this dump any day to be with Breena.

After grabbing a pair of tweezers from the bathroom, he made his way into the living room, sat on the edge of the coffee table and examined Breena’s hands. He could smell the blood on them still. He assumed it was from the shards on the floor at Norma’s.

Carefully cupping Breena’s palm in his hand, Myles picked out the tiny pieces of glass. Lust stirred inside him. He knew he shouldn’t. The smallest taste of Breena’s blood would take him to the brink of insanity, awaken a thirst he wasn’t sure he could control, even with his daily dose of humanity. On the other hand, it would give him an edge on protecting her. And if he gave her his, it would heal her cuts. He knew the consequences of what he was contemplating. But right here, in this moment, he had the opportunity to shield Breena from pain.

Screw the cost.

He stared at the semi-dried liquid on her hands. Slowly he raised her palm to his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled the rich scent before licking the temptation away.

Heat splayed him open. Her blood flowed with a magic he’d never tasted before. Ancient. His fangs slid out. Bending over her, he pressed his lips to her throat. Her pulse beat against his mouth. So close. The scent of her blood consumed his mind, his willpower, his love. The pressure of his canines on her skin increased. She moaned, just a little. A sigh in her sleep.

Oh God.

The sound sent shudders of desire rocketing through him, mocking his humanity. Her eyes flitted open, a drowsy violet. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, his fangs still poised at her throat. She looked so small, so vulnerable, but when she saw him she smiled up at him with absolute trust. His fangs retracted and her eyes drifted shut.

Myles forced himself back to the coffee table. Thank the Lord above he hadn’t bitten her. Shaking, he draped a blanket over Breena and watched her sleep awhile.

After a few minutes, he had to admit he was putting off the inevitable. He knew what duty demanded he do next. He just didn’t want to call Lucinda and tell her what had happened. But what choice did he have? The president could make what was left of his life a living nightmare if she wanted to.

Myles made his way into the kitchen, pulled out his cell and dialed the number.

The call connected but there was no greeting, only the sound of a werewolf’s quickened breath. Even in human form, they always sounded like they were panting.

“Myles Young to speak with the president.”

Rae, the president’s chief bodyguard, huffed with annoyance. “Hold on.”

A couple seconds later, Lucinda was on the line. “It happened.”

“Yes.”

“Victor will know too and he will find her. I’d wager his minions seek her as we speak.”

Myles’s back stiffened. He tried to relax his shoulders, but the thought of Breena being hunted overwhelmed him. Sound crackled from the other end of the phone. He couldn’t make out the words at first.

“Myles, are you still there?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I need her alive, Myles. Your humanity and freedom are contingent on her safety.”

There she went again, changing the rules. But he wasn’t exactly in a position to negotiate. “I understand.” He looked down at the floor.

“And one last thing. Spend a little more time watching for danger, and a little less time making eyes at her.” The president paused before adding, “I have consultants in Rhodhiss.”

“I’m aware.”

“See that you are. And remember, she’s your punishment, not your girlfriend.”

* * * *

Breena sat up. A blanket fell to her waist and she shivered, despite the sunlight peeking in through the mini-blinds. That soul-deep coldness was still there. Would she ever feel warm again?

Where am I?

“I wanna stir,” Jenny said, but Breena didn’t see her.

“Sure thing, kiddo. I’ll get you a chair to stand on. Then you can reach the bowl better.” A calm male voice wafted into the living room, along with the sound of sizzling and the smell of bacon.

“Jenny?” she called out. “Where are you?”

What happened? How did we get here? What’s going on?
Her mind spun in a vortex of questions.

“Bea’s awake,” Jenny chirped from the kitchen.

The brown-eyed girl ran to her sister with arms flung wide open. Breena crushed Jenny to her, keeping her close. She never wanted to let her out of her sight, ever again. As Jenny began to squirm, Breena loosened her grip a little, just enough to hold her sister’s rail-thin frame in front of her and kiss her cheek. Jenny’s face was washed clean of Stan’s blood, and her eye already looked better.

“I love you, short stuff.”

“Aw, sis.” But Jenny returned the kiss with a sloppy wet one.

Breena gave her a once-over to make sure she really was okay, that Breena wasn’t dreaming they were safe, but Jenny didn’t want any part of it.

“We’re makin’ bacon and French toast.” She laughed at her own little rhyme.

Breena drew her closer to her side, suddenly in the here-and-now. “Jenny, who’s we?”

“Hi.” He walked into the room with bowl and whisk in hand. “Wanted to give you two a few minutes alone.” He gave her his sexy grin.

Breena’s heart skipped a beat. “Myles, what the hell?”

“Jenny, why don’t you go finish mixing while I talk to your big sis?” He held out the bowl.

Breena released her viselike grip on Jenny’s waist and her sister bounded into the kitchen, taking the bowl and whisk from Myles as she went.

Questions crowded her mind, but for some reason she couldn’t get a single one out. She opened her mouth to try again. Nope. Zilch.

Though he kept his distance, Myles’s gaze bored into her as if he were reading her–and not just the words on the page but the subtext, the footnote, the story between. “Feel better?”

With a small shock, she realized she hadn’t even thought about it. Looking down at her hands, she balled them into fists then flexed them straight out, palms up. They were clean. No blood. No cuts. No pain. And no blue light.

Bizarre.

“Yeah. Think so.” She stretched out.

Unlike Jenny, she’d never healed that fast before. Why now? Did it have something to do with the light? Had it come from her? She thought about asking Myles but why would he know?

“Good. May I?” He pointed to the spot on the couch next to her where her legs were now propped.

“Sure.”

He lifted her legs and tucked the blanket around her feet before putting them on his lap. Her shoulders dropped as she snuggled deeper into the couch, smiling to herself as he rubbed her thigh.

She attempted to relax in vain. There were too many things unanswered. “Myles–”

Shit.

Questions still seemed to be off limits. Sighing, she tried a safe topic. “I can’t believe Jenny bit Stan.”

“She did?”

“Sure enough. A huge chunk from his calf.”

A burst of anger flooded Breena’s veins before quickly disappearing, like a short-lived panic attack that stole her breath. Weird to the
nth
degree.

Myles’s eyes brightened. “Well, that explains the blood I cleaned off her face.” He smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Bree. She’s resilient. Strong. Like you,” he added, no longer stroking the blanket but reaching over and lacing his fingers with hers.

The gesture took her by surprise. Had they stepped up to the next level in their relationship while she wasn’t looking? Steel butterflies flapped in her stomach but Breena couldn’t help beaming up at him. It was nice, for once, to feel safe and protected, to feel this kind of connection, despite all the extra weird in her life right now.

“You know, your eyes are deep lavender when you smile. They make you look older.” He nodded.

“Thanks.”

I think.

What was that about? He was only three years older than her and in two months she’d be nineteen.

Whatever.

He unlaced his fingers from hers to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then trace her jaw line until his palm cupped her cheek. Thrilling to his touch, she put her hand over his and leaned into it. A cool metal object pressed into her skin.

“Hey, what’s this?” Breena pulled his hand away from her face. “It’s beautiful.” The ring was copper-colored and there seemed to be something engraved on it–a symbol or a word she couldn’t quite make out. “Can I see it?” Taking his large hand in hers, she tugged at the ring.

“See with your
eyes,
not with your
hands,
” he hissed and yanked it away.

“Damn. What’s your deal?”

He stared down at the ring as he twisted it around his finger. A look of…disgust on his face. After he stopped messing with it, he met her gaze. “Sorry. It’s very old. I don’t take it off. Ever. Otherwise, they’ll know–”

“Myles!” Jenny called from the kitchen.

They who? Know what? Soon she’d need pen and paper to keep track of all her unanswered questions.

Oh well.

She needed some time to process anyway.

His smile returned. “Rest. I’ll go check on breakfast.” He gently moved her blanket-wrapped legs off his lap and, lickety split, sped out of the living room.

Jenny’s high-pitched chortle sounded from the kitchen. She’d taken a hard slap to the face and bitten off a hunk of Scumbag’s calf, but now she laughed like nothing had happened.