Chapter 19 #3
Winter finished the vampire off with a brutal slash across his throat, splashing bright red blood over the white walls. But it was already too late. The house exploded into action. Feet thundered down the stairs and doors banged open.
“Fox! Run!” Winter shouted.
Fox was still frozen in his chair, not sure he could even get his legs to work. He’d just sat there and watched Winter kill another vampire with frightening ease. He’d never witnessed such violence before.
Luke fell to the floor like a sack full of wet cement, his blood soaking into the large throw rug with an abstract design of bright colors.
“Fox!” Winter shouted a second time, and it was enough to wake him from his mindless stare at Luke’s body.
He needed to move. Needed to run.
But he couldn’t run. More vampires were piling into the room, rushing at Winter. He was painfully outnumbered. Fox needed to do something, but he wasn’t sure what.
Standing to the side, he watched as Winter deftly sliced at one vampire after another, filleting them like so much meat heading to market.
When they became too much, he slipped away, disappearing completely, only to reappear a couple of seconds later behind one or two vampires and chopping their heads off.
Blood splashed everywhere, coating the walls, furniture, and even Fox.
It was clear Winter had everything under control.
He didn’t need a useless witch getting in his way.
He started edging around the fighting vampires toward the front door when the guard who’d ushered him into the house stepped into the opening.
Fox’s head jerked toward Winter to find that his back was to the guard as he fought a hissing woman with a shaved head. Winter didn’t see the guard.
With the angriest cry Fox could muster, he launched himself at the guard, trying to tackle him to the ground. If he could just buy Winter a few seconds, the guard wouldn’t be able to surprise him. Winter would be safe.
Slamming into the guard was like hitting a brick wall.
The fucker was solid muscle. Even with all of Fox’s body weight hammering into him, the man staggered only a few steps and shouted in surprise.
He grabbed Fox by the shoulders and threw him across the hall.
Pain exploded along Fox’s spine and then his head a second later as he hit the wooden edge of what felt like the banister to the staircase.
He slid to the floor, sending more pain through his hip.
God, it hurt to fucking move, but he had to for Winter.
Blinking away white stars, he focused on the guard to find Winter already on him, stabbing him viciously like a man possessed. Fox blinked again and Winter kneeling in front of him, a bloody hand gently cradling his cheek.
“Fox, can you hear me? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, wincing. “Banged my head.”
“Can you get up?” Winter asked, but he was already carefully helping Fox to his feet.
The house was now frighteningly silent again. No sounds of anyone moving. No footsteps. No doors opening and closing. No one. Just Winter’s heavy breathing and the frantic beat of Fox’s heart in his ears.
“Are-are they…” Fox started to ask, his eyes straying to the living room that was now strewn with bodies and washed in red.
“I think so. I need to check the rest of the house so no one can report us to Damon or follow us.”
“Oh,” was all Fox could manage. His brain was slogging through a dark marsh. What he was seeing didn’t match up to the things he thought he knew. It was all a mess. He needed air. Away from this.
Winter kept one hand tight on his arm as if he were the only thing holding Fox upright while the other cupped his cheek again.
He tilted Fox’s head up to meet his eyes.
The frigid cold was gone and he was looking into the eyes of the man who’d held him after sex. The man he knew. Or thought he knew.
“Fox, baby, can you remember how to get to the SUV?” Winter asked so gently, Fox wanted to just close his eyes and roll up in that voice.
“I think so.”
“Good. I need you to head to the SUV.”
Fox blinked, his heart picking up for a new reason. “Where are you going?” He didn’t want to be separated from Winter. There was so much that didn’t make sense, but Winter was his one source of sanity in all of this mess right now. Even if that in itself didn’t make a damn bit of sense.
“Just to check the house. I’ll be right behind you.”
“But—”
“Right behind you,” he repeated. “We’ll go home, and we’ll talk. I promise. About everything and anything you need to talk about.”
He liked how Winter said it. Anything he needed to talk about. Not wanted. Fox didn’t want to think or talk about anything they’d learned or seen tonight. But there was so much they needed to discuss, and none of it was good.
“Promise?” Fox said, hating the fractured quality of that single word.
“Yes, I promise.”
With that, he found the strength to turn and walk out the front door. He didn’t jog this time. It was all he could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
He knew he should be upset about watching this incredible man who was slowly crawling his way into his heart dismantle nearly a dozen vampires with cold, ruthless violence.
But he wasn’t. He was upset by the violence of it all, but he was well aware that they would have happily killed Winter.
They were plotting to destroy his entire family!
No, Fox couldn’t summon any sympathy for them.
That was the disturbing part of it all. He didn’t feel bad for them. They’d brought death on themselves.
His main concern was if Damon was right. Would Fox destroy the Variks simply by being among them? If that was true, he needed to leave immediately.
But that would mean ending Winter’s peaceful rest from the ghosts.
It would mean never being held in his arms again.
He was not ready to let go of Winter. Not yet. Maybe not ever.