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I tilt my head and smile. “I was thinking that you locked me up for my own safety without asking how I felt about it.”
“Red,” he starts but I cut him off as I step out of his embrace.
“I know you’re protective but so am I,” I say, all the gathered vampires staring at us. “Let me settle a few misconceptions for everyone. This thing you feel when you find your consort, it goes both ways. Don’t forget that. We also love, fear, lust, and so much more. And, you may want to find out if you’re being bound to some fragile maiden before you decide to lock her up at any sign of danger.”
All of them stare at me with varying expressions of shock.
“Where did you learn to shoot?” Aziel finally breaks the silence.
“I’m a skeet-shooting champion. Three years in a row.”
Laughter pours from him as he throws his head back, only serving to shock those gathered even more. I wonder if any of them have ever heard him laugh?
Aaron watches me with a grin as Elfde rubs herself against my legs, purring. “Does that mean I can have my cat back now?”
“From what I’ve seen, she decides who she likes and doesn’t.”
Chapter Twenty
Kyson
She’ll Be the Death of Me
My body aches, nothing more than my head, and I know the day sleep will be coming for me soon but none of that matters. I am too worked up to appreciate the sound of our Maker’s laughter or significance of Elfde’s calmed presence. So I scoop up my self-satisfied, rebellious consort and throw her over my shoulder.
“Hey!” I barely feel the way her hands clench at me through the coat still hanging from my back.
I turn toward the stairs. “If they come back before nightfall, sound the alarm this time,” I say to the group. I try to keep the growl out of my voice, knowing I’m not angry with all of them. Only some. Maybe half.
I really am going to hurt Rowan. Tomorrow.
First, I’m going to take my beloved woman back to our room and give her a new perspective on the value of her own life.
Her hands start pulling at the collar of my heavy coat, dipping inside and trailing up the back of my neck. It’s almost like a caress, yet somehow like an exploration, and I know the angle must be uncomfortable for her. I force her to maintain it until the bedroom door locks behind us and I’ve ascertained, just for peace of mind, that no one lingers in the corner and no other heartbeat is hiding beneath the bed.
Then, and only then, do I drop her onto the mattress. The impact knocks the air from her lungs long enough for me to rip off my ruined gloves and coat.
“You could be gentler, you know.”
I stalk to the sofa in the interest of removing my boots, which I’d like to keep. “Do you deserve it?”
“Excuse me?” Scarlet slides from the bed and comes to stand in front of me. “I know you’re pissed, but I was smart about how I did what I did. It’s not like I ran out there sobbing like some fragile damsel just begging them to leave us alone.”
I shove the boots aside and propel myself back into her space. The sound of her rapid heart rate is like a drum beat in my ears, but I know she isn’t afraid. She’s angry, still coming down off her adrenaline rush, and underneath all of that is a lesser mixture of concern and lust. It’s a heady combination for me, as well as for her.
“Now they know you exist,” I tell her. “You’ve drawn their attention, and their rage. The Jagters will see you as a vulnerable extension of me and this entire coven.” I step forward, forcing her to step backward. “We had agreed that you would take shelter with Lisette, where at least one of us would remain to protect you, in the event this compound was ever compromised.” The backs of her legs connect with the mattress.
Her nostrils flare with indignation. “I could feel your pain! I could feel your anger and your fear, Kyson. What did you expect from me?” She pounds her fists on my chest before uncurling her hands to take hold of my shirt. “You say you’ve known me, on some level, for all your life. Is the version of me you’ve seen in those dreams really so demure that she’ll sit back and let the first good thing in her life be killed instead of fighting back?”
I growl without meaning to, incensed at the need for her question as much as at her point. My hands rip and pull at her clothing, as hers quickly begin doing to mine, until her warm skin is pressed against my cooler flesh when I lift her into my arms again. But I turn us from the bed, still agitated, and push her against the wall as I angle my head toward her neck.
“I cannot tolerate you being hurt, Red. I cannot lose you.” I hear my own voice crack at the words, but I do not care.
She hooks her arms and ankles behind me, her fingers gliding into my hair. “You are hurt, you asshole. How am I supposed to tolerate that?”
I find her searching, yearning gaze with my own. “I will heal.” The only part of me that hasn’t already is the burn that the early morning sun had begun searing into my scalp and forehead before my consort-turned-sniper chased the enemy away. I imagine I’ll be proud of her for that later—much later—but right now, the memory only reminds me of the danger she put herself in.
Scarlet tugs me down for a wet kiss and whispers, “Drink from me. You’ll heal faster. I don’t want to see you hurt, either.” She scowls at me. “Or do I have to wait until you’re asleep, reload your gun, and chase down those bastards who got away?”
