Chapter 20 #2
Will’s fingers quivered over Ingrid’s wrist. Lena leaned closer, nuzzling her face against his jaw. His scent filled her nostrils, dark and musky. She wanted to press her lips against his skin, to confirm that he was really here, that he was alive.
Damn it. There were no society rules here and she was beyond caring what anyone else thought.
Turning her face, she pressed her lips to his cheek, her hand sliding over his other cheek.
Alive. Warm. The pulse pounding in his chest. A cry caught in her throat.
So close to losing him… Tears burned in her eyes. Never again.
The rasp of his stubble burned over her too-sensitive lips. Blinking away the tears, she eased his grip away from Ingrid’s wrist, her fingers bloody from his cheek. “Come home with me, Will. Take me home.”
His hand sprang open. His eyes were still tightly ground together.
Ingrid’s body collapsed on the floor and she winced as she drew her injured arm up.
“Don’t move,” Lena warned her, sliding her arms around his neck. “Stand up, Will.” She breathed the words in his ear. “Take me home. Your home.”
He looked up then, the madness leeching from his gaze. The beast had not faded completely though. He looked at her with hunger, a madness of its own, and her nipples tightened painfully against the rasp of her linen chemise.
“Yes,” she whispered. “When we get home.”
“Home.” His voice was hoarse. He looked around, realizing he was still kneeling on Ingrid. Then he looked up and something dark flickered through his gaze.
“Put the rifle away,” she cried out as Will shoved her behind him.
There was no chance of stopping him if he decided to go for Jack. Not now. Pleading with her eyes, she tried to slide her arms around Will’s waist. Anything to slow him, to remind him of his humanity.
Jack slowly lowered the rifle. “Didn’t think you could do it.” He nodded sharply at her. “Five days.”
“Five days,” Lena promised, her body relaxing with a sigh of relief.
Jack glanced warily at Will. Whatever he saw on Will’s face it made him take a half step back. “You’d best go.” Another glance, toward Ingrid. “Because I can’t guarantee I can talk her off the edge.”
***
The fury that had kept him moving began to fade by the time they reached the surface. His weight was too much for her to bear alone.
“Come on,” Lena said in a cheerful tone. “Not much farther.” She took a desperate look around. The warren was a good half mile. In these streets, with Will unable to defend himself, it was a dangerous half mile.
Will staggered against a brick wall, the blood on his side drying. He’d never make it all the way to the warren. Lena bit her lip, then glanced toward the small side street where he lived these days. She’d never been inside, but she knew its location.
“This way,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and trying to guide him toward the stairs that led to his door.
A pair of boys smoked cheroots on the base of the stairs. A year or two younger than Charlie, she didn’t like the way they looked at her.
“Hey there, lady. Why don’t you ditch the old man and come sit with us?” One of them called.
No way past them. Will stiffened as if he’d heard the insult, and she stroked the lean muscle of his back. “They’re only boys,” she whispered. “No danger.”
She hoped.
Raising her voice, Lena looked the one who’d spoke dead in the eye. She’d faced down blue bloods and humanists. This was only a boy, trying to impress his friend. “Here now. Care to earn some coin?”
“How ’bout I offer you some tin?” Another smirk.
Lena grabbed Will’s shirt. “Don’t you dare.” Stepping forward, she kept a wary eye on him. He might be dangerously close to collapsing, but if the fury overtook him, it might be enough to rouse him to the killing edge. “I need a message delivered to my sister.”
The other lad tipped his chin up. “Who’s your sister?”
“Blade’s wife.”
Both boys stilled. The one who’d given her grief paled and leaped to his feet. “Didn’t mean naught by it, miss. What do you want us to say?”
“Tell her Lena’s at Will’s house. That she needs to come.” Will chose that moment to slump and she swayed dangerously with him.
The other lad stepped forward to help.
“No!” she cried as a snarl curdled in Will’s throat. The boy froze. “Don’t touch him. Don’t touch me. He’s not quite himself at the moment. Just run my message.”
Whatever they’d seen in Will’s face they didn’t even question her about the coin. Blade’s name carried weight here. Within seconds she was alone, facing the hurdle of the stairs.
Her own body screamed with exhaustion. Lena finally got Will to the top and shoved the door open. He hadn’t bothered to lock it. The pair of carved daggers in the door indicated who this house belonged to and not even the bravest thief would dare cross the threshold.
Holding him under the arms, Lena kicked the door shut with her ruined slipper. She’d lost the other in the tunnels and could barely feel that foot for the cold. “Here now,” she murmured, guiding him up against the door. Her vision swam. “Stay here whilst I fetch a lantern.”
Will slumped. “On the stove.”
She saw the outline of the stove against the pale shine of the moon through gauzy curtains. It took a minute to light, then a merry glow lit the room.
Lena looked around. “Goodness, Will. You do realize you can buy furniture?”
There was nothing but a small cot in the corner, draped with a pair of patchwork quilts, a table, and two chairs and the bare necessities of the kitchen. The apartment was small. Almost as small as the one she’d shared with her brother and sister when they first took to hiding in the ’Chapel.
“Surely Blade pays you,” she muttered in an appalled tone.
“He pays me.” Will took a step toward the bed and swayed dangerously. “Don’t have much need…to spend it…”
Lena leaped forward, catching him around the waist. His weight hit her hard and she staggered backward, her knees hitting the cot. They both went down, Will a heavy, crushing weight on top of her.
Her face was buried in his shoulder. Lena wriggled higher so that she could breathe, then collapsed back with a gasp. “Will! You’re crushing me!”
No sign of movement in his face. He breathed slowly and she realized he was in that almost unconscious state that followed severe exertion. Shoving at his shoulder, she managed to slither out just enough that his weight was no longer crushing.
Tugging his shirt out of his waistband, she craned her neck to check his wound.
A bloody crust covered it. Touching his ribs tenderly, she checked for any signs of injury.
By this stage there was little she could do.
The virus would congregate in the wound site and do more than she—or even a doctor—ever could.
Satisfied that he wasn’t mortally injured, she collapsed back against the pillow. The chill that seemed to pervade her bones was still there. And Will was burning with heat.
Snuggling against his chest, she pressed her cold lips to his neck.
The heat from his body made her feel slightly better, though the nausea from earlier had passed, thank goodness.
Lena blinked sleepily. She could barely keep her eyes open.
The weight of exhaustion hit her hard and she barely had time to wonder if her message would reach Honoria before the blackness took her.