Embrace of the Damned (25 page)

Without her, everything left inside him that remembered his humanity would perish.

“Broder.”

He looked up to find Erik standing in front of him. Erik’s gaze flicked from her face to Broder’s with concern, then he turned on his heel and started for the car.

Broder loaded her into the vehicle and they raced, tires squealing, away from the house and back to the keep. Broder kept his fingers on her too-fast pulse.

Erik met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “The bastard’s dead?” His jaw was locked with anger, his blue eyes flaring with icy hate.

Broder gave a curt nod. “She needs blood and she needs it fast or she’ll die.”

“We’ve got it covered. Halla is a universal donor. She’s setting things up right now. We figured she’d be down a pint or two if she tangled with an agent.”

“Halla—,” Broder started to snarl.

“—was under the control of the Blight. The ability that demon possessed is very rare. I’ve only seen it five times since I became Brotherhood.” Erik’s lifetime was very long; he’d been the first Loki had ever claimed, over twelve hundred years ago.

Erik’s gaze lingered on Jessa’s pallid face in the rearview mirror. “Apparently the Blight really want her dead. We may have to reassess her value.”

Except Broder already knew her value.

He forcibly unlocked his jaw. “Let’s just get her back to the keep. If she dies she won’t be of value to anyone.”

Broder kept medical equipment on hand at all his residences. One of the things he’d been stupefied by was the improvement
of health care over the years. Since he never knew what the day would bring—and it had brought more than one damaged human to him over the years—he was ready to treat her.

They’d given her a blood transfusion via Halla and had also given her fluids. Because Halla was Valkyrie, she was able to give more than a human could and her recovery was quicker. Because Jessa was not human, but seidhr, she was able to undergo a more vigorous and quicker procedure and take more risks. That was good, since if Jessa didn’t take the risks, she’d die.

Halla had been visibly emotional through the whole ordeal. The Valkyrie were bred to be strong and never show their emotions, but it was clear that Halla was suffering deeply for her role in this. After producing her blood for transfusion, she’d slunk away, apparently unable to see Jessa so close to death.

There was nothing more they could do for Jessa. Now she lay in her bed, pale, but a little less so. Broder clung to that
less so
in the thready evening hours as he sat at her side, watching the shallow rise and fall of her fragile chest.

He knew, of course, that Jessa wasn’t fragile. She’d proven that to him already. But any witch or human—hell, even a member of the Brotherhood—was in deep shit when they went up against a demon. And now, watching Jessa lying there, so still, so pallid, he wanted to smash something—some
one
. A demon.

Armies of them.

Watching her lie there made a mixture of fierce protectiveness and immense failure war within him. This woman had made him feel more emotion in mere days than he had for centuries.

All was silent in the dark room. Outside the moon was coming up and had begun filling the chamber with silver light. He would not leave her side all night. He would not leave her side ever again, fates willing.

Of course his existence was not dictated by the fates, but by one cruel and self-centered god.

Broder bent his head over Jessa’s body and whispered, “Loki.” It came out low and rough and soft, but he knew Loki could hear him. It was never a question of whether or not he was heard—it was always a question of whether or not Loki deigned to answer.

Silence.

After a moment Broder tipped his head back and yelled,
“Loki!”
with all the pain and rage and fear that constricted his chest.

Jessa didn’t move a muscle.

“All right, all right, I’m here. No need to yell.”

Broder turned to see Loki standing in the middle of the room, dressed in a black Armani suit. He eased a hand through his perfectly cut dark hair, then adjusted his sparkling cuff links. “Spill it, Broder. I’m on a date with a hot fashion model in Rome right now.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And we just got to the good part.”

“The witch is dying.”

Loki frowned, as if just now noticing the woman in the bed. He walked closer to her. “What did you do to her?”

“It was the Blight.” Broder ground out the words. “You must have known they wanted her when you gave her to me.”

“She’s a witch; of course they want her.” Loki stopped a couple steps from her bedside and looked at Jessa with distaste. Broder clenched his fists. The god pointed at her. “You know she’s very valuable to the seidhr, right?”

Broder gave Loki a sharp nod and tried not to snarl. “It would have been nice to have been given that information earlier.”

Loki made a mock moue. “But that wouldn’t have been any fun.”

The gods and their games.

He forced himself not to yell, but it was difficult. “Do something to help her.”

Loki laughed. “That’s your job. I gave her to you not only so you could …” Vaguely, he waved his hand at Broder’s pelvis. “But also so you would protect her.” He studied Jessa
for a moment. “You’re not doing a great job, Broder. I hope you’ve at least dipped your wick.”

“Help her, Loki!” Broder bellowed at the top of his lungs at him. “If she’s important to the seidhr, she’s important to the prevention of Ragnarök.”

Loki seemed unperturbed by his outburst. Loki never got mad; he only got even—spectacularly, usually. All malicious humor had left him and his voice was iron hard. “She’s your responsibility. She lives or she dies because of you.”

In a blink, he was gone.

Broder stared at the empty space where Loki had been standing a moment before. Right now he was probably in a hotel room somewhere, reclining on the bed and watching a supermodel slowly disrobe. Loki didn’t care about anyone but himself. He was a god, which meant he was a sociopath. Broder had known that before he’d called him. He should have expected no less.

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh and rubbed his tired face. “Don’t die, Jessa.”

All he could do was wait.

“Don’t die, Jessa.”

The words filtered through the heavy layers of sleep covering her. They were spoken brutally, in a harsh voice, and with utter truth and deep emotion. The man speaking them wanted her to live more than anything in the world. It sounded as if he would perish if she didn’t open her eyes and return to the living. She wasn’t sure who he was, but it was nice to have someone care.

Although she wasn’t sure she should return. It was so quiet here, so peaceful and calm. She floated in a velvety ocean of nothingness. Only small flickers of emotion teased her once in a while. Other than those pesky flickers of unwanted feeling, she only experienced numbness. It was a place free of fear, uncertainty, and anguish. She wasn’t sure she could ever leave. Not if it was to return to the world—where fear, uncertainty, and anguish ruled the day.

Not even if it meant finding out who this intriguing man was and why he wanted her back so badly.

“Don’t die.”

The words came again, softer this time, a hint of vulnerability mixed in with the aggressive command. This man was hurt in some way, hurt very deeply inside. This man was also strong, stronger than anyone she’d ever known. This man was protective of those he cared about, so protective he would risk anything to keep them safe.

This man was … Broder.

The name fluttered through her mind, teasing her with a soft curl of temptation.
Broder.
She remembered him. She remembered the look of hunger in his eyes when he gazed at her. She recalled how … when she thought she was about to die … how much she’d regretted not allowing herself to grow closer to him. Ah, yes, Broder. An interesting man. An enigma she wanted to solve. Perhaps someone worth returning to the world to see again.

The first tickle of consciousness was excruciating and she almost thrust it away to sink back into the welcoming arms of oblivion. But once she’d made up her mind to return to the world, retreat was not an option. She could only go forward.

So she forced herself upward, breaking through the surface of her tranquil black pool and into the bright light of consciousness. She imagined it must be how being born must seem, emerging from somewhere dark, warm, and soft into bright light and jagged edges. Shock. Pain. Why had she left her safe, quiet, dark place?

Wincing at the pain lingering in her body, she forced her eyelids to part. Momentarily the morning light coming in through the window blinded her, but her pupils adjusted and the room came into focus. A man’s face blurred and then came sharper. It was a roughly handsome face. A familiar one. Yet there was something unfamiliar in his eyes. Where normally she saw sexual hunger, torment, and high emotional bleakness, she saw … hope.

That flicker of hope in his eyes made leaving her safe, dark pool worth it.

“Jessa?” His voice came out a low, agonized whisper.

Unable to speak, she smiled instead.

Then the events that had brought her to her tranquil pool returned in a rush. Her smile faded. Her eyes unfocused as a series of images flashed through her mind’s eye. The struggle. Defending herself. The demon’s fangs. The puncture. The suck of her blood into his mouth.

How had she survived?

She reached up and touched her throat, feeling a bandage there. Broder took her hand and gently lowered it to the bed, shaking his head.

Jessa opened her mouth, trying to form words, but only small sounds came out. It was frustrating.

“You almost died,” said Broder. “Take it easy.” He paused, then seemed to read her mind. She wanted to know what had happened. “The agent had an ability we couldn’t anticipate, a very rare skill. He somehow reached Halla when she was sleeping. He forced her to drug you and carry you outside the wards of the keep. She didn’t betray you willfully.”

Jessa relaxed and nodded. That was good news.

“When I got to the house, you were nearly dead.” His eyes went dark. “The agent is ice.”

Jessa nodded. “The … family?” she managed to rasp out.

He looked confused for a moment, then understood what she was asking. “Erik went back to check on them. There was no sign of any bodies at the house. I think they were lucky enough to not be home when the agent hijacked their house. They won’t be happy to return and find all that blood and destruction, but we think they’re alive.”

Jessa smiled and relaxed into the pillows.

His eyes grew fierce. “Don’t ever do that to me again, Jessa. I thought I was going to lose you.”

She recalled the timbre of his voice as he asked her to live. “Why … ,” she rasped slowly, “does my fate matter … so much to you?”

He stared at her for a long moment, saying nothing. Finally he rose and walked to the window, staring silently out onto the turrets and battlements where she’d seen the dream image of her mother. Jessa stared at Broder’s broad back.

Apparently she wasn’t going to get an answer to that. It made her wonder even more.

Jessa woke to a darkened room, the hint of morning peeking from behind the heavy drapes, marking day two of her
recovery. She lay for a moment, taking stock of her various aches and pains. Her neck throbbed constantly, even with the nifty painkillers that Broder had somehow produced out of thin air. Her various bumps and bruises, the gash on her head, all of them combined to give her near-constant waking pain.

She welcomed it. After all, the alternative was nothingness—death. She’d take a temporary amount of pain over that any day. It was a small price to pay to keep the rest of her life and she would eventually heal. She’d have scars, of course, but they’d be external and flesh deep. She wasn’t giving the Blight any more than that, the bastards.

Shifting in her bed, she moved the covers aside and slid her aching body from beneath them. Her feet hit the smooth hardwood floor.

“Get back into bed.”

She jolted, surprised by the low baritone emanating from the corner of the room. “Broder?” She squinted into the low light of the bedroom, just making out his shape in the chair near the fireplace.

It was the same chair he’d been sitting in when she’d gone to sleep the previous evening.

She stood and took a step toward him. “Have you been there all night?”

He rose from the chair and walked toward her. His expression was stormy—his expression was
always
stormy. “Yes. Get back into bed.”

“I need to go to the bathroom, and before you ask, no, I don’t need help.” She pushed past him on shaky legs. She’d give anything for a shower, but she couldn’t stand for that long yet. She’d ask him for help with that, but it was too embarrassing.

Broder took her by the upper arm and she didn’t object. Losing so much blood had seriously weakened her. Having it replaced with superstrong Valkyrie blood hadn’t helped much. “After the bathroom, back into bed.”