Warrior Reborn (25 page)

He smacked the steering wheel in frustration. They must all be able to do that. Not normal. So not normal.

Ansgar had the door to the backseat open before Jason put the car in park. The man lifted his sister into his arms.

Jason moved to stop him. “She needs a doctor.”

“She’ll get the best care with us.” Ansgar elbowed his way around Jason.

“Where are you taking her?”

The other man gave Jason a more compassionate look than Ansgar. “One of us will let you know when her condition improves.”

With that, they were gone, into thin air and darkness, taking Briet with them and every last bit of Jason’s sanity.

Shit.
He slammed the back door shut and smashed his fists on the roof. Breathing hard, he stood there, hands on top of the running vehicle, his mind spinning through scenarios.

He had to be with her. She needed him. She’d told him only he could help her heal. He’d seen the blackness pull back when he touched her. He could feel the urge to be with her as gnawing and painful as if his own flesh was being ripped from his bones.

What to do?

He turned, sliding his back down the side of the car into a crouch to think. If they couldn’t help her, if she needed him there to heal, as she had before, she wouldn’t recover. He clenched his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, his concentration focused on answers in the darkness.

He didn’t have Briet’s capabilities to travel. Or Ansgar’s. Or the tribe’s. But he had to get to her to be of any help. He opened his eyes, not seeing the asphalt before him and brushed the back of his hand across his mouth. In spite of his surroundings, all he saw was her face. As clear as if she stood before him.

You have the capacity to do this for me. Only you.

Because she was his. What a fucking idiot he was. He’d thought she was waxing poetic, but she’d been telling him all along.

She’d pulled him to her ever since he first met her. He hadn’t been losing his mind or spacing out. She was like his personal homing beacon. Maybe he couldn’t just pop wherever, but he could get to her.

No room for doubts and no time to waver. Absolute success was mandatory, because there was no other option. If he wasn’t there to dig beneath her skin and hold off the black poison, it would kill her.

The drug injected into Briet couldn’t be a Welson formula. This stuff was horribly unique, the reaction like nothing he’d ever witnessed. Whatever the composite of this new toxic cocktail, the result was to kill Briet, a finite resolution to keep her from poking into Welson’s protocol.

Not acceptable.

His job was to fight back. No one got to choose the battles fate dropped in their lap. Frank had always told him that. He’d always thought Frank was full of crap for the pansy-assed saying. Until now.

He could either treat his relationship with Briet like a destructive bomb or suck it up and take it for the gift it was. Jason wasn’t used to accepting gifts, but he wasn’t giving her back. He damn well wasn’t letting anyone take her from him.

Now to find her.

He glanced around the visitor’s section of the garage. It was as empty and quiet as when he’d first arrived. Good, the fewer traces of him the better. No traces and no path back to him. He didn’t want them to see him coming. And he would be coming. Once Briet was okay, then he would come to extract every pound of flesh he could find. His father’s genes finally put to good use, for once.

Jason slid back into the car. With an unprecedented calm, he drove back to his condo and parked. The visitor’s lot at the lab didn’t have cameras. The one at his condo would only register his rental leaving and returning, the timeframe so brief he could have run an errand.

Hands fisted on the steering wheel, he ran through past scenarios. He’d done this before. Granted, it was accidental. But the shift in space had happened several times, so there was a repeatable pattern. Leaning his head back, he took a deep breath and loosened his grip on the wheel.

The first time? The day the police had spoken with him. After they’d left, he’d been staring out the lobby window, thinking about her. Right. He’d been thinking of her face, her brown eyes, all the disarray of her blond layers. He could almost smell the sweet, light scent of her.

Think
.
Think
.

The next time was at the lighthouse. Her scent had been stronger then because he’d known her kiss, the taste of her.

Nothing happened. Jason blinked.

Not enough. What was he missing?

He closed his eyes, remembering. The sun beat warm on his face, the breeze blowing. He had been thinking about the softness of her lips, the smoothness of her skin. How delicate the jump of her pulse would feel as his lips skimmed along the sensitive skin of her neck. Her pulse had been strong and rapid when he’d made love to her, her heartbeat quick against his chest.

Disorientation sucked at his gut but he kept the images in his mind. The sensations in his hands of stroking the warm, soft skin of her stomach, the curves of her breast and the feel of her heartbeat beneath his lips. The steady rise and fall of her breasts. The fluid rhythm of her heart, strong and passionate. Their damp flesh melded after he’d made love to her.

He could feel her. He could hear her rhythm.

Even as his insides churned and twisted, he kept his eyes closed and held on to the images with singular determination. His body felt light, suspended in space, without grounding, but he held to the rhythm of her. The essence of his Briet.

CHAPTER 22

The sudden release left him dizzy. Jason grabbed with his hand before his eyes opened to focus. Soft blanket met his palm and soft light greeted his eyes. He clutched at the leg under the softness and followed the outline of a solid form to the head of the bed.

Briet’s face was pale, marbled with a webbing of fine black lines.

Thank you, God.

He leaned to cup her cheek with his palm. A quick glance around confirmed the room empty. However, the doorway to the next room stood ajar and he could hear voices. Ansgar’s the loudest, the angriest.

He glanced back. Briet was ensconced in covers in the large bed, a thin metal strip wound above the camisole segmenting her breasts, armpit to armpit, from her neck and shoulders. He ran his fingers along her body and detected another metal strip below her ribs.

Vibration thrummed between the two, perhaps restricting the black veins from proceeding to her heart. He brushed back the covers exposing her hips and legs, bare and streaked in black. Her arms were lax at her side, her breathing shallow as he rested his entire palm against her cheek. How long could she last like this?

“Baby, I’m here,” he whispered, his thumb stroking her face. How to proceed? Was it the touch itself or his skin?

He pulled his hand away from her face. The blackness that had receded advanced again with his hand’s retreat.

Jeez, he had only so much hand.

He shoved back his sleeve and rested his whole arm against her neck and chest. Seconds later, the response was the same as with his hand. More skin. She needed more skin and more time. He tore off his sweatshirt.

“Fight, Briet. Please don’t give up.”

Jason pushed off all the sheets. She was dressed in only a camisole and panties. They’d been quick to get her prepped and settled. To be honest he wouldn’t care if they’d stripped her naked if it would stop the black ink’s progression.

He lifted her into his arms and bent his head to brush her face. The sight of her skin captured by the blackness, a dark evil trying to steal her from him stirred the rage inside him.

Useless. All his damn emotions were useless. He backed to a stuffed chair in the corner and curled her against him. Positioning her hands on his chest, he tucked her legs so her knees were cradled there, too. Her side snuggled over his stomach, he wrapped his arms beneath the camisole, spreading his hands to cover as much of her as possible. Finally, he pressed his face to her forehead.

He sat there, huddled over her like a huge praying mantis. Ironic, since praying wasn’t something he did well or often. He made up the deficit of years in a few short minutes. Deal after deal, he offered. Muttering promises into her hair, he prepared to sell his soul for anything to save her. The little whispers floated free of his lips, stirring the tendrils of hair beside her ear. “I’m here. Stay with me. I know you won’t give up. You’re too damn stubborn, baby.” If he could have one more chance, they would make it right. If she lived, he would do anything.

A sound vibrated in her throat but nothing escaped her lips. His cheek rubbed against hers when he felt a presence and lifted his head to see a man standing on the other side of Briet’s bed, just inside the doorway, staring at him.

However long the guy had been there, he stood completely still, arms crossed in a relaxed pose over his chest, watching them both. Tall, with brilliant green eyes, his figure was deceptively lanky. Jason had had a teammate built like that. He could knock you on your ass in seconds flat and you only saw stars afterward.

“Don’t even think about taking her from me,” Jason managed to get the words out though his mouth felt stuck and dry.

The man’s eyebrows started to rise when the door flung open wider behind him.

“How the hell did you—” Ansgar tried to push his way past. The man spun and planted both hands on Ansgar’s chest to restrain him.

“Turen. Kamau.”

The dark haired man from the parking garage grabbed Ansgar’s upper arm, as did a well-muscled, black man. Neither was quite Ansgar’s height, but the black guy had to be at least two hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle. The other man was leaner, but no less powerful, if the size of his forearms and shoulders were any indication.

The man at the bed turned back to Jason. His arm remained out to block Ansgar's progress.

Tugging his arms, Ansgar snarled in Jason’s direction, but the men held firm to his arms and shoulders, keeping him from advancing into the room. “If anything happens to her—”

Jason kept his gaze fixed on Ansgar. He had already determined there wasn’t an alternative exit to the room. Briet’s fold technique worked to reach her but he had no way to get them home.

It was him against these three formidable guys. Three, because the only option he had was to talk the others out of forcibly extracting him and Ansgar wasn’t in a reasonable frame of mind so he didn’t count. Unfortunately, the odds seemed significantly less-than-even, and not in his favor, with the two holding Ansgar back.

Jason assessed the man by the bed, another of Briet’s tribe. Ansgar’s inability to interact rationally didn’t discount a fresh option with one of the others. The man’s gaze had been roving over Briet’s body, though with a measure of clinical detachment Jason found almost tolerable.

“I need more time,” Jason choked out. He tried for confidence but his words came out sounding desperate.

“She has a mate, Turen.” The man sought confirmation from Ansgar’s accomplice from the garage.

“Looks that way. Ansgar?” The question came as a command, as if from someone in charge, someone who expected an answer. A calm, rational delivery of a question and Turen seemed prepared to wait for a reply.

Calm or not, he didn’t let go of Ansgar’s shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ansgar snapped, but his rebuttal didn’t hold sufficient weight for either of his comrades to release him.

Jason wasn’t sure where this was going, but he pulled Briet closer, eliciting another growl from the brother. Great. Now he was manhandling her in front of her family. He forced his hands to relax their grip. She made another sound, nuzzled closer and unclenched her fist against his chest. Covering her hand with his, he rubbed his cheek against her hair, not breaking eye contact with the men.

“I would like to get you a blanket, so neither of you get cold.” The green-eyed man waited for a response.

Jason knew he couldn’t sit here holding her in her underwear all night. Yet he didn’t want them to have the chance to get close enough to overpower him and take her. His hesitancy must have read like an open book.

“I give you my word. I will
not
take her from you.”

Ansgar yanked at the hands holding him. “I promise no such thing, Grimm.”

Grimm turned back to Ansgar. “Have you bothered to look at your sister? Take a good look. Your overprotectiveness could cut her off from the only person who can save her.”

Ansgar's gaze flickered over his sister’s body, making Jason so uncomfortable he moved his hands to shield Briet’s bareness from everyone’s gaze. The anger ebbed from Ansgar’s face and his muscles relaxed, the frown between his brows evened out, leaving behind only fear in his eyes. He let out a breath and settled back, no longer poised on the balls of his feet or in a tug of war with his friends.

Jason knew the black lines on Briet’s skin were receding. Whole sections of her face were clear, resisting the toxin’s encroachment. The parts of her legs and back he could reach were also returning to the sweet pale cream he knew so well. It wasn’t enough. The toxin hadn’t abated and she was still unconscious.

Grimm turned back to Jason. “Do you feel all right?”

“Fine. As long as she stays right here, I’m fine.”

He nodded. “I still think a blanket would be a good idea.”

“All right.”

The man took a blanket from a stack on a side table, shaking it out as he approached. “Lean forward and I can wrap you both. Your body heat will keep her stable better than the blanket alone.”

Jason shifted and Briet let out another murmur, her hand clenching tighter again. She seemed disturbed, but the response was louder and more vigorous, easing the tight knot in his chest. Any response was better than her lying like death in his arms.

The blanket dropped over his shoulders and Grimm squatted to tuck it around Briet. Jason leaned back and she shifted against him with an audible sigh.

“I know you heard my name is Grimm. I am a healer for our people.” He remained in his position and looked up at Jason. “I’d like to check her vitals. Just a touch?”