Chapter 14 - Anson
14
ANSON
I grin like an idiot as I drive Ameera’s Porsche; the vehicle responding with nimble precision as I round the next corner with a skill I never possessed when I was human. The next stoplight turns yellow and I hit the gas hard and fly through the intersection with a rush of adrenaline as it turns red. Now I understand why Ameera always drives so fast and hard. It’s fucking exhilarating doing it as a vampire. Meanwhile, Ameera is on her phone, leaving a message requesting a parley with the Unity Mage Council.
She ends the call, then sighs as she lowers her phone to her lap. “It’s done,” she says. “Now we wait for their response.”
The Unity Treaty, a contract the four factions agreed upon years ago, requires they all have a way to contact each other to communicate and request parleys whenever necessary. The voice mail she just reached serves that purpose for the Unity Coven, and it’s weird being on the opposite side of it this time. But I guess I better get used to it.
We lapse into silence the rest of the way to Haven Hall, but it’s not uncomfortable, which is a good sign for the future of our relationship. We reach the club and I pull around to the side alley like I normally would before I remember Ameera can’t cross the ward I placed on the building, and I’m not sure I can lead her through it without my magic.
“Fuck,” I say as I stop the car. “I forgot about the ward.”
“It’s weakened quite a bit according to Lucian,” Ameera says. “I might be able to cross it now.”
Just the thought of my ward fading away has angry resentment rearing its ugly head inside me again. I fear it will just make things worse if I’m presented with more proof that my magic is gone. Especially since she arranged for a vampire who I don’t exactly trust to run my beloved club while I’ve been indisposed.
I grit my teeth and glare at Ameera as I stifle the building rage threatening my control over my emotions. “Let’s just go around front,” I say, barely holding my shit together.
“Alright,” Ameera says in a subdued voice that tells me she noticed my reaction.
We climb out of the car, and I can’t help slowing to glance back at the side door of Haven Hall as Ameera strides toward the front of the club ahead of me. Hell no. I’m not ready to know if it’s failed or not yet. I hasten my steps to catch up with Ameera and reach her just as she rounds the corner of the building. And that’s when I notice a dark SUV parked across the street that wasn’t there when I pulled into the alley a few minutes earlier. Its driver’s side window slides partway open, revealing the muzzle of a silenced pistol pointed in our direction.
Holy fuck.
I lunge forward with lightning speed, hastened by a jolt of raw terror. I snag Ameera’s arm and yank her backwards just as the gun fires with a muffled thump that’s loud and clear to my keen hearing. I whirl to shove her behind me as the gun goes off again, and scorching pain erupts along my left side just before I tackle Ameera to the ground and out of sight around the corner of the brick building. A moment later, I hear the squeal of tires on asphalt and the roar of the SUV’s engine as it speeds off into the night.
I sit up, trying to ignore the fiery burn along my ribs, and look down at Ameera, who’s blinking up at me with a grimace of pain. Blood is already soaking into the front of her suit jacket. I shove the fabric out of the way and find a small bullet wound to her right upper chest that’s not only bleeding, but there’s smoke rising from the hole and it reeks of burning flesh. Fuck me. It’s a silver bullet, and it’s still inside her. I’m familiar with vampires enough to know that if I don’t get that bullet out of her, she won’t heal and the silver will continue to burn and weaken her. There’s no doubt in my mind that the shooter was aiming for Ameera’s heart, and if that bullet had hit its mark, she’d be truly dead now. I need to get her inside and out of sight in case they come back to finish the job. Just the thought of anything happening to her terrifies me.
Driven by that fear, I scoop her up into my arms, then stand and rush up the alley to the side entrance of the building. I juggle her in my arms enough that I can grab the doorknob, then pull open the door and hurry inside, too focused on Ameera to dwell on the fact that my ward has failed. Otherwise, she’d be barfing her guts out right about now.
I stride down the hall to my office door, that’s thankfully open at the moment, and carry Ameera inside. Lucian looks up from my desk and gapes at us as I kick the door closed behind me. I ignore him for now and carry Ameera across the room and lower her onto one of the two black leather sofas facing each other in the sitting area. I sit on the edge of the cushions next to her and check her over again. Nothing has changed. The wound is still bleeding and smoking, and Ameera’s pained face is even paler than normal. Hell, she looks a little gray and I don’t fucking like it at all. It scares the shit out of me, and if this is just a fraction of the fear that she felt when I got shot, then no wonder she panicked and did whatever it took to save me.
She touches my injured side and gasps in a labored breath. “You’re bleeding,” she says, her brow furrowing with worry.
I glance at the wound and find that it’s just a shallow line across the right side of my ribs. Good. The bullet just grazed me. Blood is still oozing down my side, but the earlier sharp pain is receding.
I take her hand in mine and squeeze it as my eyes prick with tears. “Don’t worry about me, baby. I’m fine.”
“What happened?” Lucian asks as he approaches us.
“She was shot with a silver bullet,” I say.
“Well, you need to get it out,” he says in an inflectionless voice that irks me.
I turn and glare up at him. He’s dressed in a designer suit as if Haven Hall is some kind of snooty nightclub for the rich and elite, and that pisses me off, too. “No shit,” I say with a sneer. “Now make yourself useful and go get the first aid kit from the kitchen.”
“First aid?” he says with a hint of a smirk. “She’s a vampire, not a human.”
My temper rises, but I somehow rein it in before I pummel this asshole. “I’m well aware of that,” I say. “But there’s a pair of forceps in it. I need them to get the bullet out, so quit fucking around and go get it.”
He scowls and makes no move to do anything. “You’re not my master,” he says, sounding annoyed now.
I stiffen as my anger flares into rage, ready to beat this motherfucker into next week, but Ameera touches my arm again. She gasps in yet another agonized breath so she can speak.
“Easy, zem?r,” she says, stopping me from attacking Lucian and wasting more time. “Lucian,” she continues, her voice fraught with pain. “For future reference, when Anson tells you to do something, consider it a direct command from me. Understood?”
Lucian blanches at her words. “Yes, Mistress, I understand.”
“Then get your ass moving,” I say. “Or do I need to repeat myself?”
“No, sir,” he says, then turns and pretty much runs out of the room. Fucker.
I turn back to Ameera and cup her face in my hand. Her face is still too pale and gray for my liking, and she’s trembling now.
“You’re going to be okay, baby,” I say.
She gives me a feeble smile. “That’s the second time you’ve called me ‘baby’ tonight.”
Huh. I didn’t realize I did it either time. “I guess I did,” I say with a wan smile.
I’ve never called anyone that in my entire life, not even the few girlfriends I’ve had over the years. I’ve thrown the term sweetheart around with my ex-girlfriends and my sister, and even a few times with Ameera. But she’s so much more to me than a girlfriend. She’s my soul mate, and she deserves better than a term of endearment I’ve used with someone else. I grab her hand and press my lips to her knuckles, feeling desperate to touch her and tell her how I feel since I came so close to losing her only minutes ago. “I love you.”
“And I love you,” she says, and her voice sounds weaker this time.
I hold her hand and stare into her eyes like some lovesick teenager until Lucian returns with the first aid kit.
He places it on the coffee table next to me. “Will you be needing my assistance?” he offers, despite the irritation in his eyes.
“No,” Ameera and I say in unison.
“I guess I’ll just go check the inventory behind the bar,” Lucian says.
I ignore him, already opening the plastic case of the first aid kit and sorting through its contents.
“Please do,” Ameera tells him, trying valiantly to keep her voice strong and even, but failing miserably. “And keep any of the employees away from Anson’s office.”
I grin to myself, pleased that she’s reminding him that this place is mine, as I pull the plastic forceps out of the first aid kit.
He walks out without another word and closes the door behind him. I stand and hurry over to lock the door, just in case one of my employees comes in here anyway. The last thing I need is to have one of them walking in on us while I’m digging around in a bullet wound. I sit down next to Ameera’s hip and pick up the forceps.
“This is gonna hurt,” I say as I frown down at her.
“This isn’t the first silver bullet I’ve had removed,” she says with a ghost of a smile. “I’ll be alright.”
“Okay,” I say, not sounding convinced at all as I push her blood-soaked jacket and camisole aside to expose the still smoking wound, then suck in a fortifying breath. “Hold still, baby,” I murmur as I lower the forceps.
She lies completely still, not even breathing since that’s only necessary when a vampire needs to talk, as the tip of the forceps breaches the small hole in her skin. She grits her teeth as I push it in deeper between the two ribs on either side of the wound. I close my eyes as I feel for the telltale solid mass of the bullet. It takes a bit of digging to find it, but when I do, it’s just deep enough that I can’t quite get a good grip on it with the shitty forceps. I try twice as Ameera whimpers in pain, but the wound is too narrow for me to reach in any farther and I give up.
“I can’t fucking get it,” I mutter as I pull the forceps out of the still smoking bleeding wound.
“Are there scalpels in there?” she asks as glances at the first aid kit.
I look over and nod.
“Good,” she says. “You need to cut the wound open wider so you can pull the bullet out.”
I grimace and shake my head, not liking the idea of hurting her. But the gray cast to her skin is more pronounced now, telling me I need to get the bullet out sooner rather than later or things will just get worse. Hell, it might even kill her if the toxic effect of the silver was given enough time to work its way through her system. I don’t plan on giving that a chance to happen, but it feels so fucking wrong to cut at her soft skin.
“It’s alright, zem?r,” she says as she reaches up and brushes her fingers along my jawline. “You know as well as I do that I’ll heal as soon as the bullet is out. We just have to suffer through this brief unpleasantness.”
Unpleasantness? Her choice of words makes one corner of my mouth pull up into a hint of a smile. She’s minimizing the situation to comfort me when she’s the one lying here in agony. It makes me love her even more and goes a long way toward lessoning some of the resentment that’s been simmering inside me since she turned me.
I nod, then place the forceps on the coffee table and grab one of the scalpels. I rip open the little packet and pull it out, heedless of keeping it sterile since vampires can’t get infections. I turn my attention back to Ameera and lower it to her bloody skin. I focus on what needs to be done, ignoring the sense of wrongness that comes over me as the blade slices with ease into the edge of the bullet hole. I work quickly and widen the wound with just a few cuts, while Ameera blanches from the pain. Then I swap the scalpel with the forceps and reach in for the bullet again. But despite being able to reach the damn thing this time, the cheap plastic tips of the forceps keep sliding off the bullet when I try to pull it out.
“Fuck it,” I say after the third attempt, then toss the forceps aside and reach into the wound with my bare fingers.
I’d probably be squeamish about what I’m doing if I was still human, but it doesn’t even phase me as I reach inside Ameera’s wound. My fingertips burn like a motherfucker the moment my skin makes contact with the bullet, the silver feeling about a thousand degrees. I yank the damn thing out in one swift motion, then fling it onto the coffee table with a hiss, my blistered fingertips feeling as if they’ve been singed to the bone.
I turn back to Ameera and check the wound again. It’s no longer bleeding or smoking and the edges are already healing. I study her face and I’m relieved to see her skin is returning to its usual pale olive complexion, instead of the sickly ash gray it was a few moments ago. I snatch Ameera into my arms and pull her into a hug, squeezing her tight against my chest as I breathe in her sweet floral scent that’s tinged with her blood. For a few moments there, I thought I might lose her forever, and the mere thought terrifies me. Long moments pass as I hold her close, never wanting to let her go again for fear something might take her away from me.
“Do you plan on holding me like this all night?” she asks, despite making no move to disentangle herself from my arms. In fact, her hands snake around my waist and she hugs me right back.
“If I have to,” I say, not loosening my hold on her one damn bit.
She sighs, then nuzzles her face against my neck and another few moments pass with her in my arms. Eventually, we pull apart and I check her wound once more. The cuts I made are long gone since I didn’t make them with silver, and the hole is well on its way to closing now that the bullet is out.
I meet her eyes as the remnants of my earlier panic flutter inside me. “You scared the shit out of me,” I say, my voice fierce. “Don’t ever do that again.”
She smiles up at me. “I’ll do my best,” she says, her voice stronger now. “Believe me, it’s not an experience I wish to repeat.”
I spare a glance at the bloody bullet. “Did you see who shot you?”
“No,” she says.
“Neither did I,” I continue. “It came from an SUV parked along the street, but there was no time to make out the make and model, let alone the shooter inside it.”
“I should’ve been paying more attention to my surroundings,” she says, frowning. “My carelessness almost got me killed.”
“It’s not your fault some piece of shit had it out for you,” I say. “I’m just glad I was there to make sure they failed.” I shake my head. “Now, if only we had a clue who did it.”
Ameera’s frown deepens, and she glances away.
“What?” I ask.
“I have an idea who might’ve been responsible for this,” she says with a grimace. “But you won’t like it.”
My brows furrow. “Who?”
She meets my eyes and her grim intensity rocks me to my core almost as much as the next words that come out of her mouth. “Your father.”