Rage obliterated all thought. I roared and launched myself at it, tearing deep into its side, driving it back from Jade, holding back, only barely, from sinking my fangs into whatever corrupted blood it possessed. We crashed through shelves in a storm of splinters and paper. It was immensely strong, far stronger than I expected it to be, and we slammed into the stone floor.
Then Kiran hit it from the side, shifting mid-charge, a tiger’s roar echoing through the chamber. The creature fled, shrieking into the shadows. I did not care what happened to the tiger or the monstrous thing of bark and tree and blood. I fell to my knees beside Jade, dread and relief tangling painfully in my chest. She was alive, barely.
Chapter 23
Jade
Pain was the first thing I noticed. Not sharp, more like a dull, persistent throb that pulsed behind my eyes and down into my jaw. I groaned softly and tried to lift a hand to my head, only to realize I couldn’t quite manage it—because I was being held.
Strong arms wrapped around me, cool and solid and unmistakably familiar. My lashes fluttered open, and Luther’s face swam into focus above me, icy gray eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. “You’re awake,” he said, voice rough. “Good. Don’t move.” He spoke in sharp, clipped words, as if he couldn’t bring himself to be eloquent the way he usually was. I’d never seen him look this worried or so disheveled, his black hair messy around his face and something smudged along his cheekbone.
“The thing,” I rasped, as memory crashed back in fragments of shadows, claws, and rage. “It attacked the shelves, Luther, it…” It hadn’t been after me at all, and that was probably what had saved me. It had tossed me aside like I was a rag doll, and I’d hit my head on the edge of a shelf, but I was pretty sure I’d seen it go after a particular row of books on purpose.
“It’s gone,” he said firmly, tightening his hold just a fraction. “You’re safe. I swear to you, Jade, nothing like that will ever touch you again. I will always protect you.” There was something in his voice that made my chest ache. I realized it was because nobody had ever said something like that to me, and so fervently. Luther always sounded so calmly assured, socollected, but this was a promise edged with fear. I swallowed, still a little foggy, and nodded.
“I know,” I murmured, feeling a rush of warm affection. In his arms, I did feel safe. He had me half in his lap, cradling me against his chest, and I felt surrounded, protected. “I know your secret,” I whispered, my voice just a hint of a whisper against his silky shirt. “You’re actually a good man, Luther.”
There was a beat of silence, and, with interest, I watched goosebumps rise along his throat and fade again.This is a secret?Belfry’s voice chimed brightly in my head, loud and so present that I flinched.I have been saying this for centuries. He’s practically a marshmallow.I couldn’t help it, I giggled. The sound soft and surprised. A marshmallow? That’s what Belfry thought? I would never go that far. I just knew that Luther had a strong core of nobility, a protective streak a mile wide, and, for some unfathomable reason, he’d fixated on me.
The truth was, I liked it, but he didn’t like my giggle over his purported softness. “Jade,” Luther said sternly, as if my giggle had offended him, it probably had. “Hush.” I immediately opened my mouth to protest being told to shut up, but there was this slight curve to his lips. He was smiling, and it was leeching the worried tension out of his expression.
I will not!Belfry all but shouted, a fiercely indignant denial from where he was hanging from Luther’s shoulder. His claws were digging into the shirt, causing little rips, but I don’t think either of them noticed.
“And you, Belfry,” Luther said, turning glacial eyes from me to the bat riding on his shirt, “shut up.” Belfry did, his fangedmouth snapping once as a final protest, but he remained silent, his gaze, like Luther’s, returning to me, both united in their worry and care.
I blinked, then winced as my head protested. It was beginning to ache more, and I very much wanted to go to bed and sleep for a while. What I’d seen today was the cherry on top, and I vowed I’d do better at dealing with it all once I no longer felt like my head was splitting in two. I’d really struck that shelf hard, and when I reached up to touch my temple, I found a goose egg forming there of an impressive size. “Ow,” I said with a wince.
“Hush, darling,” Luther said, more gently now. “Let Arden do his work.” He curled his fingers around my wrist and drew my hand away to press it against his chest. “Do not touch it; it will soon feel much better.”
I let his voice soothe me for a moment, but then my eyes popped back open. “Arden?” I echoed. I had been so out of it I’d only been aware of Belfry and Luther, of the warm, solid arms around me and the pain in my head. Only now that he mentioned it did I notice the other man kneeling beside us.
He was broad-shouldered, solid in a way that suggested strength without menace. A worn leather biker jacket creaked as he shifted, and his pale gray—no, silver—hair fell into his eyes when he smiled at me, soft, kind, almost shy. “Hey,” he said simply, and laid a hand on my shoulder.
Warmth spread instantly from his touch, flowing through my skull like sunlight breaking through clouds. The ache retreated, then vanished entirely. I sucked in a surprised breath. “Oh,” I said. “That’s… wow. They should figure out how to bottle that.”It was amazing, better than a painkiller, and when I reached for the bump again, I discovered it was gone.
“I told you it’s freaky when you’re not expecting it!” a woman said cheerfully nearby. I recognized that voice; it had to be Gwen. “I went through it once myself,” she continued. “Arden works miracles.” There had to be far more people here than I’d realized, and now that my head felt just fine, I was ready to process all that.
I turned my head carefully and finally took stock of the room. The secret library looked like a battlefield: shelves lay toppled and splintered, books were strewn everywhere, and pages fluttered weakly in a barely-there draft. Luther held me in his arms where he was kneeling on the floor, keeping me away from the wreckage nearby. Belfry perched on his shoulder like a jeweled gargoyle.
Near the stairs stood Gwen and Jackson, she with her hands clasped tight, and, to my shock, he with wings half-furled behind his back and amber eyes sharp with vigilance. Yup, wings. I decided I was going to roll with that and not comment. Clearly, he was not a vampire but something else entirely, something beastly.
On the floor a few feet away sat a man in a rumpled pinstriped suit, one hand pressed to a bleeding gash on his forehead. He looked more annoyed than hurt. He was also completely unfamiliar, and unlike Arden, who had apparently healed me with a touch, he did not seem friendly. There was an angry cast to his eyes; hostile, a bit like a cornered animal.
At the center of it all stood Grandma Liz. She had her hands on her hips, her long skirts swirling around her ankles on the same unseen breeze that made the torn papers flutter. Her bangles made a clinking noise when she shifted her weight from foot to foot. Her gray curls were as immaculate as ever, but with a hint of wildness that the colorful scarf tying them back could not contain.
“Well,” she said briskly, surveying the destruction. “This is a right mess. At least the ugly thing’s gone for now, so I say everyone goes home. We can regroup in the morning.” No one argued.
Arden rose smoothly and crossed to the injured man, pressing two fingers to his temple. The blood vanished like snow under the sun, and the man blinked, startled, but maybe not as surprised as I’d been. Then the tall, motorcycle-jacket-wearing but gentle healer walked past Gwen and Jackson and left without a word.
There was nothing but silence then, and yet no one seemed ready to leave, despite Liz’s instructions and the lack of protests. Liz hovered; Gwen and Jackson stared grimly at the destruction in the library; and the pin-striped, angry guy glared at nothing in particular as he rose and tried to straighten out his wrinkled clothes.
Then Luther lifted my chin and kissed me. Hard. The world narrowed to him, cool lips, fierce intent, hands trembling just slightly where they held me. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. “I thought I was too late,” he said hoarsely. “Never do that to me again,” he instructed fiercely, as if I hadany say in when or whether I got attacked by horribly twisted, blackened tree creatures.
“And where,” he continued sharply, “was your bracelet?” He reached into his coat and held up the small black box I had left on the library table. I winced guiltily, because it had to have cost a fortune, and I had left it lying about as if it were a cheap trinket. He pulled it free from the box, and the delicate gold links and beautiful jade droplets glimmered. In the light of the hidden library, I thought I could see golden, ethereal symbols glowing just beneath the surface of each stone.
“It has protection spells,” he said, then slid it onto my wrist before I could stop him. Truthfully, a few protection spells sounded good right about now. The cool metal settled against my skin, and suddenly my ribs tingled, moonlight-bright beneath my clothes. Oh. Right, that damn mating mark. It was responding a little, and I felt the heat of it. When I looked down, I imagined you could even see it through the pale fabric of my shirt. Right, how could I forget about the “eternal vows I didn’t know we were making” part?
“You...” I started, heart slamming, fear and weakness giving way to a surge of anger. “Luther, you should have told me.” I gestured rather helplessly down at my ribs, but rather than look apologetic, he seemed pleased. He gathered me more tightly in his arms, and I found myself in his lap, right there on that cool stone library floor.
