Chapter 3

3

I’m alive.

I think.

If I were dead, I wouldn’t shiver, and my teeth wouldn’t clatter against each other like a ritual voodoo rattle. Was I in shock? I could be. Kye had beaten me all to shit, and I probably suffered a concussion.

Yup, the pounding in my head announced a serious head injury was a distinct possibility.

Roiling nausea in my stomach confirmed my impromptu diagnosis.

Except I didn’t find Kye’s sneering face when I blinked the water from my eyes, so whoever grasped my leather jacket at the chest must be the dark presence that fought my ex and got thrown against the wall for his trouble.

His firm hand held my one-hundred-twenty pounds of dripping, sticky goodness with no trouble. After I coughed my lungs out in an explosive spray of water, I caught his eyes, illuminated by the moonlight, and gasped. His pupils swirled gold, and the irises pooled in milk chocolate flecked with gold. Despite the warm Louisiana night, my trembling intensified.

“Ssh,” he said. My tremors calmed, and a strange heat filled my core. I was unsure if his fiery gaze or the talisman burning in my chest stoked this internal fire. I could only focus on those eyes while his face remained cloaked in shadow. That alone should have shot alarm bells, warning me that I was dealing with another paranormal. But those mesmerizing eyes seemed to ease the pain of Kye’s brutal assault, and I relaxed.

“Rest now, Elena.”

His rumbling voice thrummed through my abused body, and as if he gave me a command, my eyes closed against my will. The last thing a paranormal like me should do is collapse in the arms of any supernatural creature, especially one I do not know. And I’m not asleep either, but caught between waking and dreaming, like a coma.

And I witnessed strange shit.

Immersed in quiet darkness, a luminescent sperm shape floated toward me. It was tadpole-ish, white with light radiating from its core, making it almost impossible to gaze at it directly. But instead of wearing a head, the body tapered off into a point at the end. Hence my sperm reference.

The unknown sperm thing swam, floated, or whatever in the void that contained us. It advanced toward me, close enough that its ‘head’ stared right into my eyes, and stared through me. It scrolled through my secrets with a violent intensity that violated me. I wanted it to leave and never bother me again.

Then a booming voice ricocheted through the infinite black around me.

“Things will change a great deal, Elena. Get ready.”

The light flared impossibly bright, trapping me within this strange parallel reality. I struggled to wake but couldn’t.

The form withdrew, and the need to glance away faded with it.

It retreated until it winked into a dot of light on my vision’s horizon. But it must have retreated only to obtain a running start because it suddenly returned, flying straight toward me.

The entity smashed into my dream self, startling me awake. I gasped, my eyelids shot open, and my body hummed with a newness I couldn’t place.

The artifact, what happened to it?

My hand flew to my chest, or tried to. It flopped uselessly at my side. Oh, hell. A paralyzing malaise gripped my body. I’m weak all over, which is a poor bet for future survivability.

Well, I did get the shit beaten out of me.

With each body part protesting, I attempted to fire my engines. I curled and straightened my toes, stretched my legs, then wriggled my fingers to roll my shoulders, finally winning a full-body stretch that sent my back crackling. Muscle and sinew woke slowly, but with it, so did my pain receptors, causing my eyes to water as my head throbbed.

Yeah, I was never getting up close and personal with my ex again.

Bastard.

I hoped I gave as good as I got. Maybe that’s why I didn’t sniff the asshole when I woke. He probably slithered into the bayou like the snake he was to nurse his wounds. Or the lack of sussing him out may have been the liter of water currently stuffed in my sinuses.

Blinking away tears, I surveyed my unfamiliar surroundings—a plush-as-fuck room. The California king mattress I lay on dwarfed my frame even when I stretched my hands above my head and lengthened my body to full height. Black satin sheets under a gossamer red comforter caressed my skin. With a heavy sigh, I propped myself on my elbows and tested my body more as the aches from my fight with Kye bloomed all over.

Coming to in an unfamiliar bed was never a good sign for a woman, and this added to my surreal sense of disorientation. Only the pain felt real, one steady anchor to cling to. But that anchor came with a price.

The pain in my head screamed for relief, and I could not chase it away. It slowed my thinking, and I needed to figure out as much as I could about my location. I took slow, deep breaths as I surveyed my surroundings, searching for a clue whether this was a house, a hotel, or another layer of the same dream world I’d only just escaped.

“You’re awake. Good.”

Holy shit.

A man sat on the edge of the bed, and I scrambled toward the opposite side.

“Where am I?” And how the fuck did I miss a dude on my bed? I’m not helpless, but why do men not understand that the last thing you want when you’re waking up from a coma was a stranger encroaching on your personal space?

Even a hot stranger with black hair curling over his collar which could easily entice you to tangle your fingers in those locks and maybe let him in your pants. I chewed my bottom lip. Well, that’s certainly an unwanted thought. And now I feel a dampness heating my pants. No. I can’t be aroused. I’m obviously suffering weird side effects from the concussion.

Right?

The stranger sat taller but didn’t stand. “You’re in one of my safe houses.”

One of his safe houses? Right. I raised one eyebrow. Criminals and witness protection protectees need safe houses. Okay, Mr. Mysterious was not on the side of the angels. But the fact that he needs safe houses plural? That’s trouble.

I sucked in a deep breath. “Which is where?”

“That’s not important right now.”

I glared. “It’s important to me.”

“No, not right now.” He pushed his fingers through his hair and licked his lips, pausing a long moment before adding a rumbling growl that made my body quiver. “In fact, it’s the least important thing to concern yourself with.”

Yeah, like staying alive. And something tells me that tall, dark, and delicious was inclined to eat me first and ask questions later. And by eating, I’m not talking about the fun kind.

Damn.

I needed a new line of questioning to get through to tall, dark, and gorgeous because I was not sleeping in a strange man’s bed without knowing his name. A girl has her standards.

“Okay, who are you?”

He glanced away and pursed his lips as if I had asked him to explain quantum physics.

I studied him with growing hunger and couldn’t stop staring into his brown eyes. But they’re not just brown, just like he’s not ‘just tan.’ His skin was a flawless shade of bronze that offset the gold swirling in his chocolate irises. He was lean but not thin, and his shoulders appeared broad and strong.

But every one of his muscles was rigid, and his jaw set before he glanced at me with radioactive anger. And this surprised me.

“I’m the guy who hired you to get shit done.” He stared at me with the stone-cold intensity of a predator. “You didn’t.”

Oh, fuck.

Mr. X—here in the flesh. And despite my full body pain, my core registered he owned very sexy flesh. And worse yet, he wasn’t happy.

I sat taller and hissed at the pain as my vision swam. Fuck. His thing was sitting in my chest and if he already knew that I’d probably be dead. Best to fake it til’ you make it, right?

“Look, just give me a little time, and I can retrieve it.”

“No. Not possible.”

I gestured broadly at myself. “I can find it again. That’s what I do. Kye couldn’t have gotten it. I had it in my hand, so it must have fallen into the water by the cabin in the bayou.”

“No. It isn’t there.”

Lie like your life depends on it, Elena—because it does.

“Well, I know Kye doesn’t have it.”

“Correct. He does not.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With as much venom as I could summon, I glared at him. “Now, we’re just talking in circles. If I don’t have it, Kye doesn’t, and it’s not in the water—” I stopped because the smolder-smirk he shot sent a shiver down my spine.

“No. You have it,” he said.

I scoffed, “I’m sorry, I don’t. I wish it were so. I had it, and then my head smacked against a rock under the water and,” I looked around the room that dripped wealth, “I haven’t thought straight since.”

He leaned forward, and the smirk vanished, which he replaced with a thoughtful gaze. It should’ve been better than his other expression, but the intensity in his stare flipped my stomach backward.

I leaned away from him, uncertain of his intention. “What?”

“You didn’t sense it? A new power deep within you? You’re not alone in there anymore,” he said, pointing to the spot between my breasts.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You absorbed it.”

Yup. I was about to be dead.

“The tiny glowy hand in the jar? Are you kidding me?” I laughed but stopped short, silenced by his stern gaze.

“I don’t joke about my business.”

“Which is?” I asked.

He wrinkled his nose as if he found the question distasteful.

“We deal with matters that are far above the paygrade of your pack.”

“Excuse me?”

He shot me a glance full of disdain. “Your pack—”

“Ex-pack,” I corrected.

“Your ex-pack is on the fringes of criminal activity in this town.”

“Yeah,” I said. Petty and not-so-petty thefts, like catalytic converters, B&Es, business protection—annoying crimes not important enough to interest Law Enforcement in pack business if Kye kept it on the down low.

“And?” I said.

“My business is not.”

He stared at me with a cold intensity, as if to prompt me to challenge him. But I’m a smart girl. I get it.

Syndicate.

With his silk suit, expensive cologne, hell, even his buffed and polished fingernails, he reeked of it. And they weren’t just any organized crime group, but rather they were one with supernatural powers that scared the shit out of us lesser paranormals. We didn’t get close enough to figure out what they were, but just close enough to know to learn to stay the hell away from them.

The Syndicate had taken many pack lives of those that got too close over the years—possibly even my parents’. And now I’m a part of it, personally employed and intimately connected to this terrifying group.

“So, what now?” I asked, hoping I sounded a hell of a lot more casual than I felt.

“We need to extract the artifact from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

We eyed each other, sizing one another up, and it occurred to me he was as wary of me as I was of him. But why? He was a fucking…whatever he was…and I was nobody.

I rubbed my face with both hands and sucked in a breath. “FYI, that’s the type of info that might be important to share before the job starts. I plan for things like assholes showing up to pirate my scores. I can’t plan for the possibility of artifact absorption if I don’t know the object’s capabilities.”

I stood or tried to. I swayed and fell back to the bed on my ass. “I—I need to go home and think.”

“Wrong. You have my artifact, which means you’re not going anywhere.”

I scoffed, but even that small movement winged shards of pain through my body.

“I’m not staying here. Are you going to force me?”

His smile returned, and my head hurt from meeting his eyes without flinching.

“No, I don’t have to.”

“Any why’s that?”

“Because you’ll come back, eventually.”

Now my pissedoffedness ratcheted past my pain level, and words exploded from my mouth without considering I was dealing with a rich and powerful man of unknown paranormal abilities.

Except for the magic way he makes you cream your pants… Shut up, brain. You suffered a head injury, remember?

“What the fuck does that mean? Then what? What happens if I return? Will you kill me to carve out this fucking thing?”

“That would be one way to get it,” he said with a smirk. Now, he was just toying with me, and I had my fill of bastards fucking with me tonight.

“You’re not funny.” I needed to put more space between us, but I couldn’t stand looking like I was afraid of him. I’ve been the smallest, or the least powerful, in every preternatural room I’ve ever been in. It’s been a long time since someone could make me feel nerve-wracked just by talking to me. He hadn’t even raised his voice yet.

“Lie down. Rest for now.” He sighed again, and I knew his frustration was because of me. “You can’t go anywhere until you’ve fully healed, anyway.”

“But—” I started to argue.

He held up a hand to silence me. “If you were human, you’d be dead—if not from drowning, then from the massive hit you took to the head. It’s amazing you’re still so…” He paused as his breath caught in his throat. “...still so presentable after that blow where my item sent you tumbling like a pebble in a rock polisher.”

Tumbled like a pebble in a rock polisher. Yeah, that’s about how it felt. Especially now as weariness crept back into my head, shuttering coherent thoughts.

“Presentable. Right. A girl can swoon peppered with sweet nothings like that.”

He huffed. “If I wanted you dead, you would be. And the possibility still remains. Now be quiet and do as I say.”

Shit, he’s using that magical power he has to put me to sleep again. I can see where we need to work on power-and-control issues in our budding relationship. Somehow, I don’t picture him in a therapist’s office.

“Don’t kill me to get it back,” I mumbled. The need to sleep already weighed on my eyelids. But Mr. X is right. I need to heal, and fast healing takes all my energy. I’ll have to trust his words that he won’t kill me—yet.

But I want to wake up and figure out how to get the artifact out of my chest without scooping out my beating heart with a melon baller. Yet I’m slipping fast from the realm of consciousness.

“I said that’s one way to get it.” He rose from the bed and came to my side, lifting my legs, tucking them between the satin sheets again, and adjusting my pillow. “I didn’t say that’s what I have in mind for you.”

Aside from the death threats, Mr. X acted like the perfect nurse.

Without explanation, he left, flipping the light switch before shutting the door with the barest whisper of sound.