Mouth open in a silent scream, Elena, still holding the bullets, trembled as Aleksi crumpled over in the snow.
With a grunt, he pulled the suitcase to them and popped it open. Aleksi’s plan was good, but only if they could get the hell out before more of Fydor’s men came. “Put the bullets in here. If Fydor is really trying to have me killed, we can’t leave evidence she helped me.” She dropped them in a shower into the bottom corner of the suitcase. “Now hold this and we go.”
She gripped the suitcase tightly.
“Lean close.” He stared into her blue eyes and put his hands on her neck. As he chanted, the familiar pressure of teleportation began.
Once solidified, he leaned against the wall for support. He’d thought the worst of the pain was over when Aleksi finished removing the bullets, but teleporting proved him wrong. Just because bullets couldn’t kill him didn’t mean they didn’t hurt like hell. There must have released two dozen rounds into his body. Damned wood elves.
He straightened and took a ragged breath. He hadn’t been here since his father’s death over twenty years ago. They’d used to camp here when hunting bear and boar. The cabin looked exactly as he remembered it, sparsely furnished with only two beds, a stove, and rough-hewn beams on the ceiling. It seemed like only yesterday he was staring up at the knotholes in the beams as his father told him stories of his people and the species under the Veil.
Swallowing hard, he brushed away the ghosts of happier times. His father was dead. And now that he knew Arcos’s offspring was not complicit whatsoever in that murder, he was discharged from avenging his death. Or was he? Maybe the rumblings and rumors had some merit. Maybe something more complicated than the two kings killing each other in a swordfight had caused his father’s death.
His uncle had planted the location device in his dagger. Why? Aleksandra made it sound like he was behind all these attacks. Well, until he found out what was really going on, he would trust no one. The only thing he was really sure of was that this woman was paired with him by fate, and Uniter or not, he’d protect her.
Judging from the dim light coming in the windows, the tiny cabin was completely snowbound. Good. They would be all but invisible. He needed to be sure they stayed that way.
Elena had moved as far from him as the cord would allow. Her eyes were dilated. She lusted for his blood. If only she wanted him like that. Well, it was probably a good thing she didn’t at this point because he hurt too much to do anything to relieve her if she did.
“I have no spare clothes,” he said. “I can do nothing to eliminate the blood and make you more comfortable until I heal.”
“How long will that be?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t eaten in a while and am weakened. Usually, the wounds close in less than a day, so probably by this time tomorrow.”
She groaned and slumped to the floor, covering her face. “I’ll never make it.”
“That bad?”
“That good. You have no idea how good you smell.”
Well, part of him didn’t need healing and sprang to life at the husky tone of her voice. “How good?”
“So good, I don’t care that I can’t feel my feet anymore.”
Shit. He’d done it again. Thinking of himself and not her. Dammit, she might have frostbite in those silly tennis shoes and blue jeans. “Take off your pants,” he ordered.
“Look, I said you smelled good. It wasn’t a green light.”
“Woman,” he said, jerking off her shoe, “be silent.” He removed her other shoe and wrapped her toes in his warm hands. “Can you feel that?”
“Yes. It hurts, so cut it out.”
It was imperative to get her dry and warm before frostbite set in. He reached up and unbuttoned her jeans.
She gasped and grabbed his wrists. “I said—”
“Say nothing.” He hadn’t intended his voice to be that gruff, but if she lost her feet, they were screwed. He yanked her wet jeans down to her knees, then pulled them the rest of the way off from the ankles. How could he have been so stupid as to have buried her in the snow in such clothes? Humans were not like Slayers and other Underveilers. They succumbed to the elements so quickly. He threw the wet jeans aside.
“Well, way to bypass foreplay all together,” she said. “Figures you’d be selfish, just like you are about everything else.”
He grabbed a bearskin from the floor and wrapped it around her. “I’m not ripping off your clothes to fuck you. Not that I don’t want to, because I do. And I will. But not until you ask me to…and I want you to be able to walk afterward, which you can’t do without feet. So just be quiet for now.” If she lost her feet, he’d never forgive himself.
Mouth open, she stared at him as he reached under the fur and wrapped the balls and toes of both her feet between his large hands.