Paris put his fingers at the small of Annette’s back and gave her a light push toward the house. She hadn’t even heard the guy move toward her.
“Aidan needs science and magic tonight,” Paris said.
Her stomach was twisting with fear. “What kind of magic?”
They crept up the steps that led to the entrance.
“The kind that will save the woman he loves.”
Annette sucked in a sharp breath. Jane. She’d feared this, especially after her last scry. “There isn’t anything I can do.”
“Yeah, well…” Paris’s voice was grim. “I wouldn’t tell Aidan that shit. I’d think of something. You’re the strongest voodoo queen that’s ever lived, right?”
She wouldn’t say that. She might think it, but she wouldn’t—
“So use whatever mojo you can, and make sure that Jane lives through the night.”
Through the night. Her breath eased out. “I’ll see what I can do.” But she wasn’t about to make any promises. Annette headed into the house. Werewolves were everywhere, and the tension in that place was thick enough to suffocate her.
“Upstairs,” Paris said. “She’s in his bedroom and—”
“I remember where his bedroom is.” Because during her last memorable visit to the mansion, she’d snuck Jane out of that bedroom. Annette had thought that she was saving Jane.
I wasn’t.
The guy with the bag had already started climbing the stairs. He was an older guy, balding, and wearing a white lab coat. He wasn’t hesitating at all as he rushed to the higher floor. In fact, his movements were jerky, tense. Worried?
She climbed quickly, too, her mind whirling. The guy up there had to be a doctor and from the way he was acting, he certainly knew the werewolf score. He seemed to either personally care what happened to Aidan or…
The doctor threw open the door that led to Aidan’s bedroom. “Jane!” His voice was hoarse. Scared.
The doctor disappeared inside. Annette squared her shoulders. She didn’t know what she’d find in that room, but she knew that if Jane slipped away that night, Aidan Locke quite possibly would go mad.
***
Jane was too pale. Too still.
“What in the hell happened to her?” Dr. Bob Heider demanded as he rushed toward the bed—and Jane. But as he neared the bed and got a better view of Jane…he swore. “Claw marks. Wolves!” He whirled toward Aidan. “Did you do this shit to her? I told her it was a mistake to get involved with someone like you! You aren’t meant to be with humans! You’re too wild, too rough, too—”
“Sew her up,” Aidan said, his voice flat and cold. Emotions were ripping him apart on the inside and it took all of his self-control not to let his beast out. Only this wasn’t a time for the beast’s fury and rage. This was a time for the man. Jane needed him.
He would be strong for her.
Bob had flushed a dark red. His eyes were watering. “She needs a hospital!”
“Sew. Her. Up.”
Bob whirled away from him and stomped to the bed. “Jane…” He touched her cheek with a trembling hand. Jane didn’t stir.
She’d taken Aidan’s blood, both at the cemetery, then here at his house. He’d made her drink. The wound was already healing, not nearly as deep. But still…bad. “Clean the wound. Make sure there is no chance of infection, then sew her up.”
“I heard you the first time!” Bob snapped back at him.
Aidan’s fists clenched. Don’t attack the doctor. You need him, for the moment.
“I deal with the dead! I’m not supposed to work on living humans!” But Bob had opened his bag. “I need to sterilize first…dammit, dammit…” Then he rushed in the bathroom.
The bedroom door opened once more. Aidan’s gaze flew to land on the new visitor. Annette. The voodoo queen looked nervous, too hesitant. Paris stood just behind her.
Annette’s gaze darted to Jane, then back to him. “What happened to her?”
“Ambush.” Don’t let the rage escape. The beast can’t come forward now. Jane needs the man. “Bastard werewolf in the cemetery. He killed again. Another human victim. Then he attacked Jane. She shot him, but he clawed her.” Nearly ripped out her insides.
“Did you kill him?” Annette asked.
I wish. “My priority was Jane. I had to get her to safety.”
There was a little gasp from the general area of the bathroom. “You…you didn’t do this.” Dr. Bob. Getting on his fucking nerves. “I-I thought…”
“If you don’t get to work on Jane in the next five seconds,” Aidan told him, rage cracking through his words. “I will start peeling off your skin.”
The room went dead silent.
Dr. Bob ran for the bed.
Aidan stood there, his whole body aching because Jane was hurt. She’d come too close to death. He needed her to open her eyes. To look at him and smile. Or to just look at him and give him hell. He liked it when she did that, too.
Annette crept toward the bed.