Chapter 12
Firm fingers jabbedMarcus’s shoulder, stirring him awake. Bishop’s tight voice rumbled in his ears. “Boss. Wake up. We’ve got a problem.”
Marcus blinked, taking in his situation. He was on the floor in front of the patio door, under a throw. Under his head was a sofa pillow. Outside the ward. He jolted upright. “Why am I not in my room?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Bishop said.
“Shit.” Marcus shoved his weakened leg beneath him and eased to his feet. Strange, but it wasn’t as difficult as it should have been. “Where’s Dove?” Worry tightened his innards.
“Sleeping on the sofa.” Bishop walked in her direction, Marcus close on his heels.
Dove rested on her side, hands tucked under her cheek. Soft breathing noises parted her lips. He exhaled in relief. She didn’t appear injured. By the gods, the things the demon could have done to her. She was lucky to be alive this morning.
“Dove,” he said in a firm voice. When she woke, he’d tear her up one side and down the other. His Chosen slept on. “Dove!”
Worry returned. Finally, he took in her pale cheeks. The shadows under her eyes. Her shallow breaths. “Shit.” He grabbed her upper arms and dragged her upright. Her head lolled. Fresh punctures marked her neck. His heart hammered in his chest. He sat on the sofa and pulled her into his lap. “Dove, wake up.”
Bishop hovered. “You want me to call a medic?”
“Not yet.” Marcus needed to open a vein for her. Something he’d been avoiding since it would deepen their bond. He bit his wrist and pressed it to her lips. “Drink,” he commanded, hoping the order would register. To his relief, Dove complied, her throat moving, her tongue lapping at his skin. His pulse jumped, only this time for a whole different reason. He shoved the feeling back. It wasn’t right to take pleasure in this.
Her thick lashes fluttered, and she drew away, licking her lips. Eyes full of confusion, she peered at him. “What’s going on?”
“Good question.” He became aware of Dove’s soft form in his arms. She’d slept in a lace-trimmed shift. With little but a thin layer of silk between them, her curves were pressed against his bare chest.
Dove didn’t seem to notice. She focused on his wrist, her eyes widening. “Did you give me your blood?”
“I’ll get her some orange juice,” Bishop said on his way to the door, giving them privacy. As usual, the lycan’s instincts were spot-on.
Marcus’s anger returned, his grip on her tightening. Dove would be answering his questions, not the other way around. “Tell me why I just found you near death.”
She squirmed in his lap, her lush body rubbing against his in a tempting manner. Heat flooded his veins, heading south. He gritted his teeth. Damn her for distracting him. She’d not evade his wrath so easily. “Now,” he barked.
She wilted in his grasp, expression defeated. “I screwed up. I always screw up. I tried to warn you this would happen when you insisted that I help you.”
“Dove,” he growled a warning. “Explain.”
She huffed, brushing tangled hair from her cheek. “Everything was fine. I asked your question. He answered. We were talking. Then…” She bit her lip, casting her eyes to her hands in her lap.
“Then?”
“Then I accidentally crossed the ward, and the demon grabbed me.” Color returned to her cheeks. “He mentioned something about hunger, and the next thing I knew, his fangs were in my throat.”
Rage, the likes of which Marcus had rarely experienced, burned through him. “Another male fed from you?” Possession ignited his senses. Marking a Chosen prevented all other vampires from feeding from them. This was unheard of, an unforgivable outrage.
Dove patted his arm, for some reason unafraid in the face of his anger. “Okay. I see where you’re going with this, but you have to remember, technically, you fed from me.”
“Not me,” he snarled.
She winced, scrubbing her forehead. “Oh boy, this is complicated.”
Bishop returned with a bottle of orange juice and passed it to her. Again, Dove squirmed in Marcus’s tightening grip. “Mind letting me up?”
“Go,” he snapped, and she eased from his lap.
As she settled beside him, he caught the outline of her nipples beneath her thin gown. He shot a daggered glare at Bishop, who wisely held his hands up and took a step back. He tossed a throw blanket at his Chosen, covering her. “How are you not dead?”
Dove twisted the cap off her juice. “I used my spirit mojo on him.”
“You can control him?” Bishop asked.
She shrugged as though they talked about the weather. “Apparently.” She glanced at Marcus. “Thank goodness because it kept you from breaking through the exterior door. Best I can figure, the added energy the demon gained from me allowed him to overpower the ward. Also, since I am the one who cast the spell, with my blood in his system, he was able to break free. Celeste did the outside door, but I didn’t want to risk him smashing it, so I ordered him to sleep. Knocked you right out.” She snapped her fingers.
Perhaps that was why the bastard was so quiet this morning. Marcus shared a look with his bodyguard. Dove could control the demon inside of him. Control me. His insides twisted at the realization. “You said it answered the question.”
“Right.” She sipped from her juice before nodding. “He’s from Carcerem. From the ether, which confirms my assumption that he’s incorporeal by nature. He said he had more freedom here, in a host. That Carcerem was a place he wasn’t free. Any idea what he means?”
“Carcerem is the kingdom of the fallen,” Marcus answered.
Dove coughed on a mouthful of juice. She swiped her lips with the back of her hand. “You mean the place the Council sends its criminals?”
Marcus shook his head. “Carcerem is more than a dumping ground for prisoners. It’s a whole other realm. Thing is, the gateway only works in one direction. Once something goes in, it never comes out. That’s why the Council sends our criminals there.” That, and it was rumored to be a hellish plane. Trying to survive there was worse than being executed.
Bishop grunted, folding his arms. “I’ve never heard of anything crossing into our world from the other realm. Could be the demon is lying.”
“I don’t think so,” Dove said. “After playing a couple of hands with him, I can tell you his poker face is crap. Which makes sense. If you were an incorporeal being, I imagine you’d have zero skills at masking your expressions.”
Marcus’s frustration grew. “If what the bastard claims is true, how did it get here and why the hell did it hitch a ride with me?”
Dove fiddled with her empty bottle. “Is it possible the explosion had something to do with the demon slipping between the realms?”
Bishop answered. “I’ve had experts go over every inch of the wreckage, as well as the scene of the explosion, and come up with nothing. At this point, Helen may be the only one who has the answers we need.”
Helen. Just hearing her name had Marcus wanting to stab knives into his ears.
“Did you get anywhere with Xavier? Did he identify Helen’s lover?” Dove asked him, unaware of his violent urges.
Marcus forced his jaw to unlock. “He’s playing with me, refusing to reveal the male’s identity.”
Bishop scrubbed the scruff on his chin, a dark gleam in his eyes. “Maybe it’s time we take what we want. I noticed several security cameras in the common areas and corridors. Good chance there’s footage of Helen and her companion.”
Dove raised her hand as though she were in school.
“Yes, Dove,” Marcus groaned.
“Last night, I spotted a spirit entering a secured room. He was caught in a loop. Guess he was really committed to his job or something. Believe me, if I come back as a ghost, it wouldn’t be to work for all of eternity. If I watch him, I’ll be able to see the code he types into the keypad.”
“Good chance that code has changed.” Marcus met Bishop’s eyes, reading his response.
“Maybe not.” The lycan snorted. “Xavier’s security is a joke. Those costume swords his guards carry couldn’t cut butter. The whole place is more about form than function. The security system is likely in the same shape.”
Anything that got Marcus off this island was worth trying. “It’s decided. Dove and I will follow the ghost and break into the surveillance room tonight.” Once they stole the information they needed, Xavier and his toga could burn in hell.
“Who, me?” Dove clutched the throw to her chest. “I just figured I could get you the code and be on my way.”
Marcus sent her a daggered look. “And leave you unsupervised? Not happening. Besides, you’re the necromancer. This is your department. Time you earned your keep.” Dove’s conversations with the demon were getting them nowhere. Less than nowhere, considering she’d almost got herself killed. Again!
“But—”
He stood up, cutting off her objections, in no mood after what she’d pulled last night. “You may spend your day with Celeste, but tonight you’re mine.” As he strode to his room, he ran his hand over his stomach and cringed. He was still in his pajama pants. Bare-chested, without his hood, and he hadn’t even realized.