Chapter 10 #2
Sterling’s right—she’s hurt, bruised and banged up pretty good, but not just from the ghouls.
Scrapes and cuts litter her exposed skin, as if she’s taken a nasty fall.
There are bruises under her torn collar, a bandage on her wrist. Older wounds.
I restrain a sudden surge of protective rage, coming to the brim inside me at the notion that someone put their hands on her recently.
It’s unfounded. She is no one to me. And no matter how godsdamned enticing her blood smells, I need to remember my duty before I do something reckless.
She nods at last, straightening a little when she notices the ghouls are truly gone. “Y—yes. I just . . .” The shock is still clear on her face. She stares blankly at the three of us, possibly trying to process why three vampires have come to save her.
Quinn saunters back up to the group, just in time to terrify the female even further as another masked vampire joins the fold. “They’re gone for now, but we should probably—” He cuts himself off with a long whistle, making my eyes immediately roll. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
“Not now, Quinn,” I growl, suppressing the urge to punch him. His words may seem casual, but I don’t miss the way his nostrils flare, likely noticing the same thing I had.
Sterling is no better, soothing the female when a whimper slips past her lips.
I can tell he’s nervous, too concerned for what should be an average encounter with another ungoverned district victim.
I cock my head at him in assessment, my eyes lingering on the gentle way he holds her—his fingers caressing her trembling hand.
It seems I’m not the only one who's allured by this mysterious creature.
“We need to get her back to the clubhouse.” Sterling moves forward, his arm holding the female’s weight. I put a hand against his chest, stopping him.
“We cannot take her back there,” I say beneath my breath, trying to keep her from hearing.
Sterling looks at me, bewildered. “Why not?”
“Sterling.” I bend to his ear. “Are your fucking senses broken? Can you not feel what she is?”
“She’s a Watcher,” Zeke answers for me.
“Exactly. And do you know who will be pissed as fuck if we bring a Watcher back into the clubhouse?”
“Andras,” Zeke answers again.
“Bingo,” I respond, not taking my eyes off Sterling.
“You saw what he made us do to Tyge for bringing High Quarter shit into our streets.
Imagine what he'd do if we brought a whole ass Watcher into his territory.
" As the pause lingers, I leave no room for imagination. "Shoot first and ask questions never.”
A large part of me wants to save her. Claim her. But the rational side of my mind demands ruthlessness, order. She’s a liability in every damn sense of the word—for me and my bloodlust, and for all of us getting in shit with Andras. And the Blood Order member in me knows this can't happen.
Sterling mulls over my points, frustration in his tense face. But he shakes his head, shifting his hold on the female. “I don’t care. That bite on her arm is fresh. Which means she needs treatment. As soon as possible. We can't leave her out here for the ghouls to come back and feast upon, Aamon.”
I cut my gaze down to her hands tucked carefully in on herself, moving swiftly to pull her arm free so I can see the bite myself.
She jumps at my actions, but I don’t let her go.
Fuck. She was bitten. Ghoul bites fester, poisoning their victims over time.
Which means Sterling is right. We need to get her to Laurel.
I look quickly to Zeke, hoping he has some other insight to offer.
I desperately need his brash sense of duty and cold-heartedness to come through for me now, to talk me out of taking this female home and risking Andras’ wrath on my crew.
But he just crosses his arms over his chest, refusing to go against Sterling. As always.
I sigh, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck.
“Fine,” I growl. “But I’m making her your personal responsibility. I’ll have the seven hells to pay with Andras if something goes wrong.”
Sterling flashes me a look of gratitude and ushers her over to his bike. The female averts her gaze and cowers closer to Sterling when they pass me. Quinn follows, helping her get settled behind Sterling. Because of course he does.
Zeke shakes his head as he moves back toward his own bike. “This is going to cause nothing but trouble, Aamon.”
I grunt dismissively. If he had such a strong opinion on the subject, he should've voiced it before Sterling flashed his big, silver doe eyes at me.
Quinn finishes securing the female on the back of Sterling’s bike and trots back over to me just as I mount mine. He’s grinning ear to ear, which I can see plain as day since our veils only cover the top half of our faces. And I can practically see his erection through his jeans.
“Calm the fuck down, Quinn.” I roll my eyes.
“Come on, Aamon. Am I not allowed to be optimistic?” He smirks, situating himself on his bike.
“Zeke thinks she’s going to be trouble.” My eyes linger on Zeke as he makes his way back to his bike.
“Who says I don’t like a little bit of trouble?” Quinn elbows me, snickering to himself.
I ignore him, watching as the female clings to Sterling's back. He starts his motor and they take off, Zeke trailing behind them. My jaw hardens, my teeth grinding together. I hate to admit the irritation I feel in my gut that she’s riding on the back of his bike—not mine.