Nate lifted the t-shirt Aba wore, revealing the wide length of fabric wrapped around his middle, glossy with blood. Carefully, he undid it, and rage tore through him like wildfire at the fist-sized burn wound there. “They used a fucking hellfire bolt on you?”
“Aye,” Aba grunted. “I didn’t recognize any of them. I killed one and hurt another before one of them did this and escaped.” He motioned to his stomach. “Couldn’t do much else with my human staff around. Had to do a mind-sweep of the attack. Damn—” He grimaced in pain.
Nate shot to his feet, instinctively aware of what this was about.
“No-no, don’t hunt them,cnati.” Aba grasped his forearm. But the need for retribution garroted him.
“They wanted me,me!” he bit out. “Then let me make it easy for them.”
“And leave me in this vulnerable state?” Aba wheezed, pressing his other hand to his belly.
Nate recognized the ploy to keep him there, but dammit, his sire was right. Hands fisted in helplessness, he glared at Aba.
“It wasn’t you they were after.” Aba rested his head against the bed, exhaling a pained breath. “They kept asking where it was. Then said something about a unicorn?”
Without a word, Nate strode to his room, his mind a chaotic haze, the need for vengeance amping up.
The beast slammed into his mind, sensing his rage. Pain shot through his skull.Blood. Wantssss. Killll.
Grunting, Nate tightened his mental shields, and the strident hiss faded. He collected the salve and potion thelaikahad given him from his bedroom and headed back, setting the things on the nightstand, then lowering to his haunches.
He gently cleaned out the ointment from the gaping wound on his sire’s stomach.
“What’s that?” Aba asked, voice hoarse.
“Something that’ll aid you.” Nate pasted the mossy salve on the brutal wound, applied a fresh dressing, then taped it down. He wiped his hand on the towel there, then held out the potion bottle. “Drink this.” He hoped like hell the potions worked on demon-inflicted wounds, too.
Once Aba had taken a gulp, he capped and set the things on the nightstand. “Use them every day until healed.” He helped his sire up and into bed, then said, “Call, if you need me.”
In his room, he pulled on an old tee and sneakers and headed down to the shop. The place was a mess, things strewn everywhere. And the lingering stench of sulfur hit him. Keeping his anger on a tight leash, he tracked their signature odor, picking up a hint of rancid ash and hot tar near the door.
You won’t escape me.
He set about putting things right, then locked up the shop and headed for the workshop. Hands clenching and unclenching, he bypassed the vehicles awaiting work, dragged off the tarp covering the sanded-down seventies Charger he’d practically rebuilt from scratch—
Fuck! He slammed his fists on the roof, a vise knotting his gut. They knew he protected thelaika, yet they challenged him, attacking his sire to make a point.
He would crucify Derrodus for starting this shit with the bounty, and the one who hurt his sire would pay.
Sure, Aba could have handled them, but he’d lived like a human for decades, followed the laws, and didn’t like drawing attention to himself. Now, he ended up hurt.
Nate’s resolve hardened. First, he’d get Aba to safety, and then he’d hunt down the fuckers.
They would learn firsthand why they called himSicari.
CHAPTER8
Ely blew out a breath,shifting her gaze from the 18 x 24 canvas she worked on to stare through the glass wall of the boathouse on the Guardians’ island estate.
Noon winter sunlight painted a golden shimmer on the undulating body of water as if calming the sea. And she wished it could do the same to her own turmoil, as memories plagued her since the encounter two nights ago with Nate… Her fingers traced a path along her jaw, a path he’d charted, trailing his nose down to her neck to kiss her throat, and her breath hitched.
Nate.
His name resounded inside her head, and her finger tightened on her paintbrush.
“We can fuck and get the lust out of the way, but we’d have to be quick.”
And as fast, every soft emotion burned away. Scowling, she glared at the canvas, shutting him out. She had to finish this painting and not moon over the darn crass-mouthed demon.
