A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(96)

The bars were protected, the wall and floor solid cement….

He slowly lifted his head, eyes focused on the ceiling. “I can dig through.”

“Lachlain, I doona think that’s wise. This house is centuries old and gets battered as you would no’ believe.”

“Doona care.”

“You might care that all three stories are tongue-and-groove construction—one piece falls, it’ll be like a domino effect. War, hurricanes, and constant lightning have made it unsound. I doona think Val Hall can take a Lykae biting through the first floor.”

“Support it while I’m gone.”

“Hold the floor? If I canna, you could be hurting both our mates. This place could come crashing down.”

Lachlain slapped him on the shoulder. “Be sure that you doona drop it.”

Time was running out. He let the beast have its way with the ceiling, slashing through the wood, digging with its claws, and pulled himself up into the cool house.

On his knees on the floor, Lachlain shook himself, struggling for control. Looking back down, he said, “You can handle this?”

“Just doona be too long,” Garreth gritted out. “Oh, and Lachlain?” He was already straining. “Doona kill Wroth, a big black-haired vampire, if you see him about. He’s the one who helped Emma with the idea of the blood straight to her veins. One of Kristoff’s Forbearers. We owe him for Emma’s life.”

Lachlain snapped, “What’s Kristoff’s goddamned interest in her?”

Garreth shook his head. “No. I think this Wroth did it to have his union with Myst recognized.”

A Valkyrie unified with a vampire?

“He seemed a lot saner than they usually do. Now, go!”

Lachlain leapt to his feet. He followed Emma’s scent easily, moving through the expansive mansion, and stalked straight to her floor. A red-headed Valkyrie was just leaving Emma’s room with a towering male. A vampire. Lachlain’s first instinct was to attack him, but he stifled it. That had to be Wroth, the one who’d helped Emma, and her aunt Myst.

Wroth comforted Myst, brushing tears from her face. A vampire comforting another? Suddenly Wroth’s head jerked up; Lachlain flattened himself against the wall. Wroth scanned the area with narrowed eyes then clasped Myst to him to trace them away.

As soon as they’d disappeared, Lachlain raced to Emma’s room. Inside, her bed was empty. Of course, she must be under it. He fell to his knees, jerked up the bedding. Not under it. When he glanced around, he saw N?x standing in the adjoining sitting room with Emma in her arms.

“N?x, bring her to me. I can heal her.”

She stroked Emma’s hair. “But your blood comes with a price. One so young as this dreams of wars she’s never seen, feels injuries that would have killed her ten times over.”

He shook his head, not wanting to believe.

“She dreams of fire.” N?x sighed. “Forever, forever fire.”

Emma appeared frail, her skin and lips pale as snow. Her cheekbones stood out sharply. One look at her, and he was sweating with fear for her.

N?x leaned down to rub her nose against Emma’s. “Emma of the three. And you don’t know it yet. Emma of the three hacked him in three. What do you have in your little hand? Darling girl. He’s supposed to get you a ring.” With effort, N?x pried the ring from her hand and tossed it to him. He slipped it on without interest. Why the bloody hell wouldn’t she give him Emma as easily?

“You gave her the Instinct. It shines like a star in her, radiating. She can see where you marked her as yours.”

Impossible….

“She will never lose it.” N?x petted her forehead. “She is all of us. Emma of the three.”

“N?x, what will make you give her to me?”

“What would you do for her?”

His brows drew together at the absurd question. “Anything,” he rasped.

She studied him for long moments, then nodded firmly. “You have work to do, Lachlain. Give her new memories to fight the old.”

He held out his hands for her, forgot to breathe…until N?x finally handed her to him. He clutched Emma to his chest, but she didn’t wake, and when he glanced up again, N?x was gone.

Quickly, he crossed to the bed, laying her down. He cut his arm with his battered claws and placed it against her lips.

Nothing.

He sat next to her and shook her. “Goddamn it, Emma, wake up.” She didn’t. Her lips parted, and he saw her fangs were dull and small.

He sliced his thumb and worked it between her lips, cupping her head with his other hand. Long moments passed. Then she grew very still, as though even her heart stopped.

She took, just barely. After a moment, she raised her hands to his chest, clutching him. He drew his finger from her, and when she latched on to his arm, he threw his head back, closing his eyes with relief.

Even as she drank, he pulled up her nightgown and the bandages beneath to check her leg and side. Already healing.

When she’d finished, she blinked open her eyes and threw her arms around his neck, weakly squeezing him.

“Why did you go, Emma? Was it because of what I said about Demestriu?”

“Had to go. Lachlain,” she said, her voice faint, “he’s my…he was my…father.”

“I know. But that does no’ explain why you would take that step.”