Heart of Iron

Twenty-two

A soft hand stroked his chest.

Will yawned and struggled to open his eyes. He felt better than he had in years, so relaxed he could barely lift his head off the pillow. The room was dark, the sheets stained with the scent of Lena and the musky scent of—

He froze.

Then caught the hand that stroked his chest.

“Lena,” he whispered, lifting his head off the pillow. Starlight glittered through the crack between the curtains.

“Mmph?” She made a sleepy sound and snuggled against him.

She was naked, her leg thrown over his and her head resting on his shoulder. Panic erupted, his heart bursting into a racing staccato. He could feel every inch of impossibly smooth skin, her body slick against his.

The scent of sex. Of his seed, mingled with the delicious scent of her own body.

The loose end of the bandage on her hand tickled his chest. What had he done? Looking around wildly, he saw the discarded roll of sheet. Memory flooded back in. His fingers, wet within the heat of her body, Lena gasping beneath him, her face twisted with ecstasy. Thrusting hard between her thighs, her knees clamped together like a vise as he spilled his seed against her stomach…

Will’s head hit the pillow. Thank God. He hadn’t taken her. Hadn’t infected her. Relief flooded through him and he caught her hand, squeezing it gently.

The bandage tickled his fingers. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. Lena barely stirred.

Frowning, he rolled onto his side. She tumbled into his arms like a rag doll, a flush of perspiration on her gleaming, naked skin.

“Lena?” he whispered. Why the devil wasn’t she responding?

His side was wet where she’d been lying against him. Will’s eyebrows furrowed deeper and he pressed a hand against her forehead.

Perspiration drenched her hair. She moaned slightly, her head lolling as if she sought to remove his hand. He drew it back, mind racing.

She felt hot. Most of the time a human’s skin felt cold against his burning heat. Lena always had, her body feeling like cool silk against his. For him to register her skin as hot, she had to be burning up, almost as hot as he himself.

There was only one possible reason for that.

“No,” he whispered, turning her chin to peer at her face.

Faint circles of red shadowed her cheeks. Sweat gleamed on her breasts and stained the sheets beneath her. Will rose up onto his knees, his gaze falling on the bandage around her hand.

He yanked it off, lost to any sense of tenderness. Lena whimpered, her head twisting on the pillow and wet strands of hair sticking to her throat. He almost didn’t want to look, too afraid to know the truth.

Forcing himself, he opened her curled fingers and stared hard at the palm of her hand.

Smooth pale skin.

Not even a hint of a welt.

“No,” he whispered, throwing himself off the bed. Panic churned in his stomach and he raked his hands through his hair, shooting her an incredulous look.

It couldn’t be. He’d been so careful with her. No blood, no sex… And he knew saliva was safe or he’d never have kissed her.

Cold dread spiraled through him. “Lena,” he whispered, crossing to the bed. “Lena?”

She blinked sleepily, wincing as if her head hurt. “Will?” A soft murmur, her head lolling to the side.

Will caught her chin. “You don’t feel well, do you?”

Her pupils looked the size of small marbles. She looked past him, her gaze focusing on nothing. “Just…head aching…”

“How long?” Her eyes started closing again and he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “Damn it, Lena. How long have you been feeling poorly?”

Blinking up at him, she caught his hands, her own grip feeble. “Hurts.”

“I know.” He ground his teeth together and let her go. “I’m sorry. How long has it been hurtin’ for?”

“Days?” she whispered, licking at her dry lips. “The morning after you came…to my room.”

Will slumped on the edge of the bed. “Days?” he repeated. What the hell had happened that night? He’d kissed her. Tasted her skin. Her breasts. But nothing else. It had to have been blood, but he couldn’t remember if he’d been bleeding. He was always so careful. “Was I injured? Did you see any blood on me?”

She shook her head, curling back into the pillow as if her body ached. As it no doubt did. “Don’t know.” Cupping her hands over her face, she whimpered. “Hurts.”

He hovered over her uselessly. “I know.” God, how he knew. Joints aching, body burning up, head pounding as if it were fit to split. The insatiable need for water. He stroked her back, light circles to ease the aching he knew she’d be feeling.

“I’ll fetch you some water,” he said, leaning down and kissing her brow.

“Please.”

“Stay here.” His heart hammered in his chest as he fetched her nightgown and laid it over her. Anything more would only chafe her skin. Tugging on the pair of trousers he found strewn over the end of the bed, he eased out of the room and shut the door quietly.

A soft whimper echoed from within, stabbing him hard in the chest. Will leaned back against the door, closing his eyes in despair.

What had he done?

***

The reality of the situation didn’t truly hit him until he’d helped her finish a full jug of water. As Lena collapsed back on the sheets into a feverish sleep, he dragged a clean sheet he’d found over her and stood back, staring at her petite figure. She shivered, her skin clammy to the touch.

Will backed away, swallowing hard. What have I done? He should never have laid so much as a finger on her.

But years of aching loneliness had their toll. He’d always desired Lena. Too much so. When he first took the letter off her he should have gone straight to Blade. Let him deal with the mess, with Lena’s protection. He’d known how much of a temptation she represented for him.

With his feet dragging, he slowly climbed the stairs to the attic. The faint swish of skirts told him who was awake up there.

A murmur of voices greeted him as he lifted his hand to knock. Blade too, then. Guilt choked him but he forced himself to rap at the thick wooden door. There was nothing he could do now. Lena needed her sister.

“Come in, Will,” Honoria called.

Light sheared through the darkness as he opened the door. Honoria’s usual chignon was a bedraggled mess as she perched in an armchair by the hearth. Blade rifled through the books on the shelves, peering intently at the spines.

Honoria met his gaze, dark circles swallowing her eyes.

She knew.

He faltered in the door, shaking his head, unable to speak.

“Oh, Will,” she whispered, coming to her feet. “How is she?”

He opened his mouth but no words came out. Only an inarticulate sound of pain and guilt. The room blurred as heat filled his eyes. “I didn’t—I was always so careful. I don’t know how—” And then a flash of image swam into his mind. Of the jewelry store. “My lip,” he said, touching it. “I had a fight with Colchester and he split my lip.” Guilt punched him in the chest. “I kissed her. I didn’t think.” He’d been more concerned with not bedding her, of fighting away the desire to claim her as his own. He’d forgotten, for a moment, the dangers of his blood. And the wound had been so minor…

Honoria wrapped her arms around his waist and for once he let her. “It’s not your fault, Will. No matter what we all said, she would never have stayed away from you.” The warmth of her body soaked into his and he rested his chin on the top of her head, holding her awkwardly.

“I should have made her.” He drew back and wiped his sleeve across his eyes. “I should never have thought I could do this. I should have come straight to Blade when this all happened. Let him deal with her.”

“When all what happened?”

Too many secrets. He shut his mouth and raked his hands through his hair. “What do we do?”

Honoria stared at him for a piercing moment, then let it go. She turned away, gesturing at the half-opened books that littered the room. “I don’t know, Will. We’ve been reading all day—”

“You knew?”

“Her temperature’s too hot. It’s not human. And I could guess.”

He took a step toward her, suddenly angry. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“You were in no condition,” she replied simply. “And we knew little about the loupe. I needed to find out more before I could start to treat it.”

“Ease up, lad,” Blade warned, his eyes darkening. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, but the way he rocked onto the balls of his feet indicated swift movement if needed.

Will turned away, shaking his head. No point getting angry. The only thing that was important now was Lena. “Have you found anythin’? Anythin’ at all?”

A slight hesitation. “There’s nothing about how to deal with the transition or the first initial stages of the virus. The loupe isn’t a very well-documented disease in Britain. I don’t think anyone in the Echelon cared whether people survived it. What did they do when you were first infected?”

He stared at the wall. “I don’t know. Don’t remember much.” Just heat, incessant heat. His body aching. Screaming through a newly reknitted throat as his body changed. And the merciful coldness of the cellar as his da’ tried to bring his temperature down. “Cold,” he said. “The cold helped. Me father put me in the cellar where it were cool.” He turned around. “She’ll be thirsty. You have to keep her drinkin’.” A shrug. “I can’t remember anythin’ else.”

“That’s not a lot to go on.” Honoria bit her lip.

“I know,” he snapped. “I were only five and barely lucid. Do you think I wouldn’t mention somethin’ if I could remember it?”

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything, Will.”

Blade had taken a step closer.

Will turned away, fists clenched. “I’m sorry. I’m on edge. I can’t believe—” His worst nightmare. Come to life.

A hand slid over his lower back. “We know,” Honoria whispered. “Come. We’d best get prepared. I don’t think it will be long before her temperature starts spiking. She’s already got the rosy cheeks. It’s the following fever that will…”

As if realizing what she was about to say, she stopped.

“Hold,” Blade said.

They both turned toward him.

“There’s nothin’ in your books and Will don’t remember,” he said. “But there’s some in London right now who might know how to deal with this.”

“The Scandinavians,” Honoria whispered. She clapped a hand to her head. “Why didn’t I think of them?”

“You’re distracted.”

“Are they likely to help?” Honoria looked up at Will.

He frowned. “I barely know ’em. But they might.”

“You’ll have to go,” Honoria demanded.

“I’m not leavin’ her.”

“This is her best chance,” she stressed. “Please, Will. You know I’ll look after her. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

He wavered. Honoria would do her best, but he could hardly bear to leave, knowing that Lena might… Baring his teeth, he nodded. “It’s her best chance. I’ll fetch one of ’em.”

“I wish that didn’t sound as if you were goin’ to drag ’em ’ere, willin’ or not,” Blade muttered.

***

Will pounded on the door of the manor that the Norwegians were leasing for the duration of their stay. Rain dripped incessantly, tangling in his hair and running down his face. The journey into the city had been a mindless one. He could barely remember any of it.

Glancing at his watch every few seconds did little to alleviate the tension riding him. It had taken him twenty minutes. Twenty minutes in which he didn’t know what was happening to Lena.

Footsteps finally sounded in the entrance and the door opened on a harried-looking butler. “Yes?”

He pushed forward, into the doorway. “Is the Lady Astrid in?”

“I’m afraid she’s not at liberty—”

He had the man by the throat in seconds. “You go and fetch her,” he said quietly. “Or I’ll rip your heart out through your nostrils, you understand?”

The man went sprawling as Will released him and scrambled back across the marble tiles.

“What’s going on here?” someone barked.

The Fenrir stepped out of the shadows of the library, clad in his court attire. The wolf fur was secured around his broad shoulders with a polished bead of amber, and his gray beard and hair had been combed. The menace in his eye nearly threw Will over the edge.

Don’t look him in the eye. Deep breath…

“You dare come into my house like this?” the Fenrir asked in a deadly soft voice. “You dare treat my servants like this?”

“Uncle.” Astrid’s voice. Soothing and calm. She strode to Magnus’s side and eased a hand over his arm. “Look at him. He’s barely containing himself. Something’s set him off.” With an appeasing look, she turned to Will. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the scent of too many of his kind. “It’s Lena.”

“Your woman?” She frowned, then understanding dawned. “She’s got the loupe, hasn’t she?”

“I were only five. I don’t remember how to deal with it, how to help her—”

“May not be any help, lad,” Magnus grumbled, subsiding. He stroked his beard. “She’s the small girl?”

Both he and Astrid exchanged glances.

“She’s strong willed,” Will blurted. “She’ll fight.”

“You should have stayed away from her,” Magnus said, lips thinning. “There’s a reason we don’t mate with humans.”

“I ain’t touched her.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Astrid said, shooting her uncle a look. “Let me fetch my cloak. I’ll come. Whether it helps or not…”

“Thank you.”

“Where’s your carriage?” she asked.

Will shook his head. “Came on foot. By rooftop.”

Astrid stared at him, her pale white skirts swishing around her ankles. Then a blinding smile crept over her lips. “How interesting. Let me change.”

Magnus caught her arm as she turned to go. “You’re not going alone.”

“Everyone’s supposed to be at what’s-his-name’s ball. That hatchet-faced vulture who thinks he’s amusing.”

“The Duke of Morioch,” Magnus replied dryly. “Take Eric. I’m sure he’ll relish the opportunity to avoid another night of boredom.” He turned his gaze toward Will. “I’m giving you my son and my niece. You bring them back to me or I’ll mount your head on a spike, you understand?”

He nodded. A man who spoke his language. “Perfectly.”

***

“The rookeries, eh?” Eric leaped off the rooftop onto the muddy streets below, his fur-lined cloak swirling around him.

Will followed, pushing past to lead the way. The warren came into view and some of the tension went out of his shoulders.

“I expected a manor,” Astrid murmured, landing beside them and staring up at the decrepit appearance of the building. “Do you have a cellar? Or ice?”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered, shoving the front door open.

Rip guarded the front door, his hand straying to his belt as the door opened. Charlie and Lark sat on the bottom of the stairs, arguing over who’d won the game of jacks. Charlie’s jaw dropped as Astrid followed him in.

She’d changed into a pair of tight leather breeches, with a vest that cinched her waist to a ridiculous span. Her hair had been braided back tightly, leaving her cheekbones bare, and the fur cloak she wore turned her into a barbarian princess. Even Rip’s eyebrow rose.

Eric followed. The Norseman smiled, ruffling Lark’s hair as if she were a little girl. Charlie looked like he was contemplating a fur cloak and chain mail addition to his wardrobe.

“How is she?”

Charlie blinked, tearing his gaze away from the exotic pair. “Don’t know. Honor won’t let me in. What’s goin’ on, Will? I heard Lena crying—”

He shoved past, heading straight up the stairs.

Soft whimpering sounds came from within Lena’s room. Rapping softly on the door, he poked his head in.

Lena writhed on the bed, her cheeks burning with fever. Her nightgown clung to her body with sweat, and Honoria hovered by her head with a cool cloth. Blade was trying to keep her still, a glass of water in his hand.

“Did they come?” Honoria asked, strain showing around her mouth.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Lena. “How is she?”

Honoria’s mouth twisted. “Her temperature’s getting higher.”

Something shoved him out of the way and Astrid pushed past. She took in the scene at a glance, slinging her cloak over a nearby chair. “You need to cool her. Fast. We’ll need ice, and something large enough to put her in.”

“A bath?” Blade asked.

“Do you have one?”

“In me rooms,” he replied.

“Perfect.” She pressed a hand against Lena’s temple, closing her eyes. “Very close to the peak, but not there yet. There’s time.”

“She’ll get hotter?” Honoria gasped.

“She dies if she does,” Astrid replied bluntly. “Will, fetch me ice. Lots of it.”

He spent the next twenty minutes smashing the heavy ice blocks to pieces, then carrying it from the deep cellars to Blade’s room. The cellars were freezing; Blade needed a continuous supply of ice in order to keep his blood chilled.

Astrid and Honoria had taken over the bathroom. Astrid filled the bath to the brim with cool water, then poured buckets of ice chips into it.

“Are you certain this is safe?” Honoria asked. “They used to do this to the inmates at the institute I worked at. It was awful.”

“It will hurt, yes,” Astrid replied, her expression unchanging. She met his gaze, knowing he’d be the one to protest. “Whatever she does, you must not interfere.”

“How much will it hurt?” he asked.

“Like fire.” She put a hand out to stop him. “This is her only chance. In Norway, we use the snow to quench the fever.”

He hovered on the balls of his feet. The worst thing was knowing how much pain Lena was in right now. How much pain would come. He’d spent two days clawing at the dirt in the cellar before the fever broke.

But there was no help for it. “How long?”

Astrid gave him a serious look. “Two or three days. Perhaps one has already passed. She seems halfway through it.”

This was her only hope, he reminded himself, though the thought of hurting her made him feel sick. “I’ll go fetch her.”