The Viper, page 15
And spun the wheel hard right.
At the very moment the vehicle shot off the road, he dematerialized out of the interior, sending himself off in a scatter, beelining for the hunting cabin. With every foot of distance he covered in the ether, his strength got sucked away by the arriving day—and he had a thought that he had waited until too late.
Except then he knew he was in the right place, his sense of direction undiminished by the sunlight.
Re-forming with momentum, he came back into his physical body in a run. As he barreled forward, racing in between the two bodies on the ground that were already smoking from the sun, he took a leap at the hunting cabin’s open door, going parallel to the ground with his arms outstretched. He meant to land in a roll, but he was too busy looking to the hearth, to the far corner.
She wasn’t there—
With a thunderous bang, he landed facedown, and there was no skidding because the floorboards were rough. Cursing, he didn’t care as the breath was kicked out of his lungs and one of his hips sang with pain.
Twisting on his side, he looked around.
Nadya was gone.
* * *
Back when that wolven had been driving away from the prison camp like a bat out of hell, Apex had had to dematerialize off the roof of that car. Strong as he was, he hadn’t been able to hold on anymore, and when the wind shear had peeled him free of the panels, he’d let himself go. For a moment, he’d just hung in midair, the rushing wind keeping him aloft, his eyes trained on the infinite sky above the earth.
Too bad that coast couldn’t last.
And the pursuing car full of guards was going to be the worst possible landing pad.
Closing his lids, he dematerialized just as he felt a bullet nick the side of his leg. The strike wasn’t enough to slow him down, but he didn’t have a destination.
So when he re-formed, it was… anywhere.
No, that was a lie. It was back at the fortified garage, the one the wolven had taken them to, where they’d gotten the stretchers for Kane and Mayhem, and more ammo and weapons.
Checking the exterior out for a second time, he found it such an unassuming structure, and he approved of the camouflage. And back when they’d be reconnoitering, before they’d headed up the mountain, the wolven had given them all the combination, so he let himself in.
Standing over the battered Monte Carlo, he replayed the escape as he breathed in the gas and oil fumes that still lingered, thick as if the car had just been driven. On a hunch, he bent down. Yup, something was leaking, like the vehicle had joined the injured ranks along with the rest of them.
With so many near-misses, they shouldn’t have made it out at all.
Where the hell was that wolven?
Not that he’d come here to wait for the male or anything.
As the skin on the back of his neck tingled in warning, he glanced out the milky glass of the window over the work bench. He was going to have to hunker down for the day and here was as good a place as any. He could only hope Kane and that female were okay wherever they were.
Looking around, he spaced for a second about how to get underground. Then he remembered the wolven going over to that bench and flipping something under the upper shelf—
“Thank fuck.”
As he repeated the male’s actions, a wooden toolbox nearly the size of a car left its seat and swung aside to reveal a set of stairs. There was no sound from its well-oiled hinges, no clue that it was anything other than it appeared. Lights went on when he began to descend into the darkness, and at the bottom, he was greeted by a sight that had stirred him the first time: Stacked against the smooth concrete walls, in boxes, bags, and various containers, there was an arsenal of weapons and ammunition. Dried food in drums. Water jugs. Flak jackets, winter coats, and snowshoes. Medical supplies.
It was all so well thought out, so organized, so useful, needed, and valuable.
The male who had assembled the collection of necessaries was a clear, practical thinker who wasn’t going to be taken unawares. He was prepared. Thorough. Defensive when he had to be, aggressive when it was warranted.
Looking away, because in a weird sense, Apex felt like he was ogling the wolven himself even though he was just checking out the stuff the guy had, he measured the shower and toilet, which were out in the open, and the two cots that were off to one side.
But the admiration came back. If he had designed a space for a bolt-hole, he couldn’t have done a better job.
Behind him, the toolbox slid back into place, and he heard the catch of the copper lock. Glancing up, the steel mesh that covered the ceiling and the walls shimmered, and there was a flap of it that could be secured over the opening of the stairs.
That wolven was a damned mastermind.
Within moments, the resonant silence became as dense as the earth itself, and eventually, the shower in the tiled corner drew his eyes and held them.
As he went toward it, he passed by all the jackets that were hung on pegs—and stopped halfway down the lineup. Glancing around, even though he was alone, he leaned into one of the down coats that was camouflaged to look like leaves. His nostrils flared as he breathed in, and the scent that registered was a spice that he had done his best to shut out.
Except who was he hiding from down here?
Closing his eyes, he drew the wolven’s scent deep into his lungs and held it there. Something about the combination of spruce and fresh air made him feel warm under his skin—and like he could have happily blown ten or fifteen years of his life just standing at the parka and inhaling through his nose.
But because that was pathetic, even with no witnesses, he forced himself to keep going down the aisle that was formed by all the supplies. As he went along, he took off the guard’s uniform, starting with the gun belt, which he tossed on one of the cots. The bloodstained shirt was next, then the boots and the pants. He let it all fall wherever it did, noting that if the clothes had been his, even if it had just been that tunic and loose pants, he would have treated them better out of habit.
Fuck those guards, though, even if it was only the uniform of a dead one.
By the time he got to the showerhead, he was buck-ass naked and braced for cold water and rotgut soap. Reaching to the handle, he—
The instant he made contact with the stainless steel, an electric shock went through him and he saw the dead, like a hologram overlapping reality. It was a male… hanging from the bolted-in fixture above, a brown belt around his throat… his naked body against the tiled wall, his legs extended straight out at an angle with no bend at the knees… the heels planted on the floor, the toes fanned out.
The eyes were open in the gray, frozen face, the dark-blond hair falling over the forehead, over the shoulders.
With a hiss, Apex retracted his hand and shook his head.
When he looked back again, the vision was gone—and stayed gone as he tried again to turn the water on.
Pivoting away, he put his back to where the body had been and set about clearing his mind by letting his head fall into the cold spray. When the temperature started to warm, he was so surprised, he stepped out and double-checked that everything was working. It was.
He put his palm out.
“Oh…”
The warmth was enticing, and he thought how fucked up it was that even though he had been involved in multiple skirmishes with armed weapons tonight, as well as a car accident, an amputation, and topped that off just now with a dead body sighting… he was scared of getting back under the rush.
One thing he had learned was that it was easier to stay uncomfortable.
What hurt was when you let your guard down, and then had to reenter hell.
The burn on reentry was never, ever worth whatever eased you.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Over here! Quick!”
Just as Kane was losing his mind, as he’d decided that Nadya had been picked up by a second set of guards, or had run off for safety because she was horrified by what he’d done out in front of the cabin, just as he was about to run out into the gathering dawn to try to find her—
The urgent male voice wheeled him around sure as if he were a puppet.
Callum, the wolven, was peeking out of a panel in the floor. “Come on! I got to get out of here. I have no more time than you do.”
Kane scrambled across the rough floorboards like he was being chased, and as he hit the stairs that had been revealed, the wolven traded places, jumping free of some kind of subterranean hideout.
“I’ll be back at dusk,” the male said as he slammed shut the panel.
Bump, bump bumpbumpbump.
Kane didn’t pay much attention to the wolven running off overhead. He only cared about skidding down the steps. As he bottomed out on his butt, he looked up and saw the only thing that mattered at the moment: Across a shockingly well-kitted-out interior, on a sofa that was strewn with fluffy pillows, Nadya was sitting up at attention, her hands gripping her hood and robes, her body trembling.
Kane stayed where he was for a couple of reasons. One, it was possible he’d broken his ass, literally. Two, he didn’t want to rush at her, which was all he felt like doing. And three…
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she whispered as she gripped the sofa arm like she was going to stand up.
“No, let me come to you.”
He got to his feet and walked toward her. The underground quarters were narrow, but long, and accommodated a small galley kitchen for food preparation, a water closet with a door, and furniture that, if measured against his standard of living prior to the prison camp, was casual, but compared to where they’d both been was palatial and beautifully clean as well as color-coordinated in blues and grays. There was even a proper bed, located behind the couch Nadya was sitting on.
“Callum said this is his personal retreat,” she explained. Then she blurted, “Are you hurt? I heard you scream out there—I thought you were dead.”
She covered her mouth over the hood with one hand. And then the other.
As he reached her, Kane lowered himself to his knees. In the lights that were mounted on the ceiling, Nadya’s draped form trembled and he wanted to take her into his arms, but he wasn’t sure where the boundaries were.
“I’m fine. I’m here. We’re safe.”
“Are we?”
“Yes, I promise.” At least for right now, he tacked on to himself.
As they fell silent, he didn’t know what to do next, but then she stopped his heart.
With a shiver that transmitted through the robing, she lifted shaking hands to her hood… and slowly moved it up and over her head. Her stare remained lowered as she revealed herself to him, but then she looked at him, and for the first time, he saw her eyes properly. Her irises were a swirl of blue and green and brown, the combination of colors so unusual, he had never seen it before. And in the center, in the black pinpoints of her pupils, he saw an eternity—
“You don’t need to cover yourself,” he said roughly. “Not around me. You’re beautiful.”
Her eyes returned to her lap. “How can you say that.”
“Back in the clinic, I was uncovered before your eyes. Did it affect your opinion of me?”
“But we are not the same anymore.”
“Yes, we are.”
He searched her face, cataloging the ropey scars that distorted one eye and half her nose and all of her cheek. He suspected the damage continued below the robing because the side of her throat was marked as well.
“Nadya…”
Rising up, he sat beside her on the sofa, put his arm around her, and eased her against him. Though her body remained stiff, she did tilt in—yet he had the sense that, though they were close to each other, they were miles apart.
“I’m going to keep us safe.” As the words came out of him, he looked over to a lineup of weapons in a glass-fronted cabinet mounted on the wall. “Don’t worry about that.”
And that was when it hit him.
“We’re out of the camp.” His voice was rough as he tried out the syllables, letting his ears test them for truth. “We’re not in there anymore—”
As he turned his head to look around some more—marveling, really, about the liberation—he caught his reflection in that gun cabinet’s glass.
What stared back at him was at once a stranger… and someone he could recall seeing all of his life—well, at least before he went into the prison camp. After that date, there had been no mirrors anywhere.
“Kane?” she whispered.
He had some vague notion that his body was getting off the couch and moving across to the cabinet, but he wasn’t tracking his own movements. He was too busy looking at himself, and as he came up close to the glass, he touched his own face, feeling nothing but smooth, healthy skin as he let his fingertips drift down his cheek to his jaw. Then he stepped back and stared at his torso. As he extended his legs, they worked perfectly, the muscles strong and coordinated, the knees flexing without pain, the bones underneath willing and able to support the load of his upper half should he need them to.
And underneath his skin? A humming of power that should not have been foreign, but felt like a revelation.
Turning away from himself, he felt helpless. Which made no sense. He should be jumping up and down and celebrating.
But none of this made sense. All he knew was that Apex and the others had gotten him out of the camp, and then someone had interceded on his behalf, and then…
“Yes,” Nadya said softly. “That’s what you look like now.”
“I find this… impossible to believe.”
He shook his head and walked around the cramped space. As he went up and back, he thought of the manor house he’d been given by his intended’s bloodline. There had been that horse path that had skirted the back meadow, the one he had taken his trotters on. He could have used its length and calming vista right now.
Except then he found himself in front of a stove and refrigerator. Though they were modern appliances, he recognized what they were from when he had worked in the prison camp’s kitchen, and he knew how to use them.
He would also benefit from a different focus right now.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
Kane smiled a little. “I feel the same way. I’m willing to bet that the wolven has something to eat here—”
“Kane.”
“Yes?” When she didn’t answer, he turned to face her. “Tell me. Whatever it is.”
“I want to know what happened to you.” She held up her hands. “I’m not formally trained in medicine by human standards, but I have apprenticed for years. And the healing that you have gone through, in a matter of hours, defies reasoning. Where did you go and what was done unto you.”
* * *
Nadya was so used to being covered that the absence of her hood made her feel too light, as if she would float away if she didn’t hold on to the cushion beneath her. She was also shocked she could face Kane at all.
But she had other things that were foremost on her mind. And given the way Kane had looked at himself in that glass? He was as shocked as she was.
“I expected to you to die,” she said softly. “Every night when I would first check on you, I would brace myself to find you unresponsive. And now you’re strong and whole, and perfectly healthy.”
Kane opened his mouth. Closed it. “Are you hungry? I am.”
As if he hadn’t heard her. As if he hadn’t just asked her that.
She was not surprised as he turned back to the kitchen area, and as she watched him move, she remained so confused. It was him… and yet not Kane at all.
He opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk to check the date. “Still good. I guess the wolven stays here regularly. Oh, look, an apple. May I please feed you?”
Nadya opened her mouth. Hesitated. “No, thank you.”
As he pivoted around again, he frowned. Then he came back over to her. “May I give you my vein?”
“Oh, no.” She put her palms up as she flushed. “No. I am fine.”
In the silence that followed, she became achingly aware of the height of him as he loomed above her, so vital, so healed… so beautiful in a masculine way.
When he sat back down next to her, he put his elbows on his knees, propped his chin on his linked hands, and stared at the floor.
“I don’t know what she did to me.” He shook his head. “All I know is that I came awake in her hut, and she told me she could save me.”
“Who was she? A healer?”
“No, she was something else entirely. She was mystical, she was… well, it sounds crazy, but she was of another world.” He held up his forefinger to emphasize the point. “That I am very sure of.”
A tingling ran down Nadya’s spine. “Was it the Scribe Virgin?”
“I don’t think so… but I’m not sure I’d know as I’ve never met the species’ creator before.” He shrugged. “She didn’t introduce herself, so maybe she was.”
“What did she say to you?”
“She offered me a resurrection. But then… I can’t remember what happened. It gets hazy for me after that.”
He held his hands out, turning them palm down and splaying all ten fingers. Then he flipped them over as if he couldn’t believe what he was looking at.
“All I knew for sure was that I had to get back to you,” he murmured. “It was all about going into that hellhole and bringing you out.”
Nadya’s throat tightened. “You didn’t need to save me.”
He glanced over at her. “And you didn’t need to save me. So we’re even, aren’t we.”
As she stared back at him, she realized that they had been intimates when she had been tending to his body. Now, they were all but strangers, and she couldn’t imagine him naked.
Then again, maybe that was because of what he was like now.
“I took care of you because it was the job I declared for myself.” She tried to clear the lump that was making talking difficult. “You were my duty, so you owe me nothing—and before you say it, no, I wasn’t the one who really healed you. It was whoever you were with when you were gone, and that is the truth.”
