“Stay insane, right?” When she didn’t reply, he muttered, “Jesus Christ, Xhex, I need to know where I stand. I got a brief return to what seemed like normal when I was getting us out of that lab, but now … I don’t know whether that was a hiccup or a trajectory out of this hell I’ve been in.”
“I can’t answer that. No one can.”
“I’ve been twenty years off the planet, unable to connect. I guess I was just hoping that the way I felt on that evac means I’m … okay.”
The sadness in his voice was backed up by fear, and Xhex found herself wanting to punch the concrete wall. “This is all my fault—”
“No,” he snapped. “You don’t own any of this. I decided to come after you, and your relations did what they did to me. Did what they did to you, too.”
“But you had no idea what you were walking into. And that is on me. And then you protected me after I burned that first lab down by letting the Brotherhood think it was you.”
Murhder went back to focusing on the floor, and as things got quiet, she knew he was replaying all kinds of bad scenes in his head.
“When do we ever know what we’re walking into,” he said in a low voice. “Destiny is not a straightaway. It’s cluttered with corners and all of them are dark. We make the turns we do … and find ourselves where we are.”
As he stopped talking, she became very aware that she owed him.
The question was, how did she repay the debt he refused to acknowledge or entertain.
The next time Sarah looked at the clock—the one on the lower right-hand corner of a computer screen—the lineup of numbers read five eighteen. Sitting back in the office chair, she cracked her spine and wondered whether that was five in the afternoon or five in the morning. It had to be afternoon, she decided, as in late in the afternoon, almost twenty-four hours after she had driven to BioMed with her backpack and those credentials from the safety deposit box.
As well as some vague idea of rescuing someone she wasn’t sure actually existed.
What a day. After hours and hours of studying John’s case, her mind was spinning with everything she had learned. After studying slides and test results, and talking with the staff, and processing it all through the filter of her own training and experience she was …
Jazzed.
It was the only way to describe the feeling. She was alive. Excited. Focused.
She did not like the fact that John had something wrong with him. Or that his loved ones were worried. But the idea of solving the problem, getting him cured, returning him to full health? In this new landscape of anatomy and immune system? Given that no one was really sure what the pathogen was?
It was the chance of a lifetime in a totally new horizon.
And of course, in the back of her mind, she was wondering how all of this could help humans with cancer. Vampires were apparently like sharks. They didn’t get the disease. So why not? Especially as so much about them was the same.
Although so much was different, too.
“You hungry?”
The sound of the deep male voice behind her made her nape tingle—and not because she was frightened.
Spinning her chair around, she looked up at her commando. He’d taken a shower and changed clothes, although now everything was black, just like the other men—males. His long red-and-black hair was damp on the ends and he smelled … heavenly.
“Is Nate still okay?” she said.
“He’s doing very well. He ate something and now he’s resting.”
“What did he have?” Like he was her kid or something. “That ginger and rice—”
“Roast beef.”
“Oh, that’s great! A serving or two of that can help his iron counts.”
“It wasn’t just a serving. He had a whole roast beef. As in … a bone-in, standing prime rib roast. I believe they said it weighed sixteen pounds.”
Sarah blinked. “Jeez, what was dessert—an entire pie?”
“Vanilla ice cream.”
“Oh, that’s more reasonable. It’s not like he ate a whole half gallon.”
“And the pie.”
“What?”
“He ate a half gallon of vanilla ice cream with an apple pie. He’s in a food coma now.”
Sarah threw her head back and laughed. Part of it was relief. Part of it was lack of sleep. Part of it was … the smile on the commando’s face: Because he felt the same way she did, that connected them.
And she liked being connected to him.
“What is your name,” she said as she caught her breath. When he hesitated, she shrugged. “Come on, I already know everything. Well, a lot of things, at any rate. Your name is a simple thing, right?”
The commando cleared his throat. “I come from a warrior tradition.”
She looked up and down his magnificent body. “Really? And here I thought you were a baker.”
The fact that he laughed again made her feel good.
“No,” he said. “I don’t make bread or rolls.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“Ah, no.”
“Okay, well, don’t feel bad. Neither have I. You were saying? You’re a badass?”
That smile got bigger. But then faded into a wince. “So our names … the names we are given are meant to inspire fear. They are identifiers of our nature as defenders of the race—”
Sarah put her palm up. “Just tell me. How bad can it be?”
“Murhder. My name is Murhder.”
She laughed. And then her mouth fell open before she could catch herself. “Wait, you’re serious.” When he nodded, she tried to compose herself. “Oh. Wow. Is—um, is that first or last?”
“Last. My first name is Cold-Blooded.” As she did a double take, he smiled shyly. “I’m joking. It’s just Murhder.”
Sarah broke out in a laugh. “Did you make a funny?”
He blushed. “I did. I made a joke.”
He was so hesitant, so … endearingly unsure of the humor … that she wanted to hug him.
“That’s a good one.” She got up out of the chair. “And I am starved. Do you know where food is?”
“I do. Everyone’s gone up to the big house for First Meal, but there’s a break room down the way. And yes, Nate’s being monitored by machines with loads of alarms. If he needs anything, people are going to come running, including us.”
“Good. Let’s do this.”
Sarah followed the commando’s—Murhder’s—lead, heading down the concrete corridor and coming up to Nate’s hospital room. Opening the door, she leaned in and reassured herself that he was, indeed, sound asleep, a slight snore rising from his man’s throat.
“I still can’t believe what he went through,” she murmured.
Murhder’s voice was quiet. “It’s just the way it works for us.”
Making sure the door closed silently, they continued down the hall, walking side by side—and it felt normal. Natural. As if she had been striding next to him for years.
“So how’s your work with John?”
She exhaled. “Well, they refuse to tell me how he was injured. It’s the one piece I don’t have, but I’m working around that. At the end of the day, the ‘how’ is not as important as the ‘where.’ ” o;Stay insane, right?” When she didn’t reply, he muttered, “Jesus Christ, Xhex, I need to know where I stand. I got a brief return to what seemed like normal when I was getting us out of that lab, but now … I don’t know whether that was a hiccup or a trajectory out of this hell I’ve been in.”
“I can’t answer that. No one can.”
“I’ve been twenty years off the planet, unable to connect. I guess I was just hoping that the way I felt on that evac means I’m … okay.”
The sadness in his voice was backed up by fear, and Xhex found herself wanting to punch the concrete wall. “This is all my fault—”
“No,” he snapped. “You don’t own any of this. I decided to come after you, and your relations did what they did to me. Did what they did to you, too.”
“But you had no idea what you were walking into. And that is on me. And then you protected me after I burned that first lab down by letting the Brotherhood think it was you.”
Murhder went back to focusing on the floor, and as things got quiet, she knew he was replaying all kinds of bad scenes in his head.
“When do we ever know what we’re walking into,” he said in a low voice. “Destiny is not a straightaway. It’s cluttered with corners and all of them are dark. We make the turns we do … and find ourselves where we are.”
As he stopped talking, she became very aware that she owed him.
The question was, how did she repay the debt he refused to acknowledge or entertain.
The next time Sarah looked at the clock—the one on the lower right-hand corner of a computer screen—the lineup of numbers read five eighteen. Sitting back in the office chair, she cracked her spine and wondered whether that was five in the afternoon or five in the morning. It had to be afternoon, she decided, as in late in the afternoon, almost twenty-four hours after she had driven to BioMed with her backpack and those credentials from the safety deposit box.
As well as some vague idea of rescuing someone she wasn’t sure actually existed.
What a day. After hours and hours of studying John’s case, her mind was spinning with everything she had learned. After studying slides and test results, and talking with the staff, and processing it all through the filter of her own training and experience she was …
Jazzed.
It was the only way to describe the feeling. She was alive. Excited. Focused.
She did not like the fact that John had something wrong with him. Or that his loved ones were worried. But the idea of solving the problem, getting him cured, returning him to full health? In this new landscape of anatomy and immune system? Given that no one was really sure what the pathogen was?
It was the chance of a lifetime in a totally new horizon.
And of course, in the back of her mind, she was wondering how all of this could help humans with cancer. Vampires were apparently like sharks. They didn’t get the disease. So why not? Especially as so much about them was the same.
Although so much was different, too.
“You hungry?”
The sound of the deep male voice behind her made her nape tingle—and not because she was frightened.
Spinning her chair around, she looked up at her commando. He’d taken a shower and changed clothes, although now everything was black, just like the other men—males. His long red-and-black hair was damp on the ends and he smelled … heavenly.
“Is Nate still okay?” she said.
“He’s doing very well. He ate something and now he’s resting.”
“What did he have?” Like he was her kid or something. “That ginger and rice—”
“Roast beef.”
“Oh, that’s great! A serving or two of that can help his iron counts.”
“It wasn’t just a serving. He had a whole roast beef. As in … a bone-in, standing prime rib roast. I believe they said it weighed sixteen pounds.”
Sarah blinked. “Jeez, what was dessert—an entire pie?”
“Vanilla ice cream.”
“Oh, that’s more reasonable. It’s not like he ate a whole half gallon.”
“And the pie.”
“What?”
“He ate a half gallon of vanilla ice cream with an apple pie. He’s in a food coma now.”
Sarah threw her head back and laughed. Part of it was relief. Part of it was lack of sleep. Part of it was … the smile on the commando’s face: Because he felt the same way she did, that connected them.
And she liked being connected to him.
“What is your name,” she said as she caught her breath. When he hesitated, she shrugged. “Come on, I already know everything. Well, a lot of things, at any rate. Your name is a simple thing, right?”
The commando cleared his throat. “I come from a warrior tradition.”
She looked up and down his magnificent body. “Really? And here I thought you were a baker.”
The fact that he laughed again made her feel good.
“No,” he said. “I don’t make bread or rolls.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“Ah, no.”
“Okay, well, don’t feel bad. Neither have I. You were saying? You’re a badass?”
That smile got bigger. But then faded into a wince. “So our names … the names we are given are meant to inspire fear. They are identifiers of our nature as defenders of the race—”
Sarah put her palm up. “Just tell me. How bad can it be?”
“Murhder. My name is Murhder.”
She laughed. And then her mouth fell open before she could catch herself. “Wait, you’re serious.” When he nodded, she tried to compose herself. “Oh. Wow. Is—um, is that first or last?”
“Last. My first name is Cold-Blooded.” As she did a double take, he smiled shyly. “I’m joking. It’s just Murhder.”
Sarah broke out in a laugh. “Did you make a funny?”
He blushed. “I did. I made a joke.”
He was so hesitant, so … endearingly unsure of the humor … that she wanted to hug him.
“That’s a good one.” She got up out of the chair. “And I am starved. Do you know where food is?”
“I do. Everyone’s gone up to the big house for First Meal, but there’s a break room down the way. And yes, Nate’s being monitored by machines with loads of alarms. If he needs anything, people are going to come running, including us.”
“Good. Let’s do this.”
Sarah followed the commando’s—Murhder’s—lead, heading down the concrete corridor and coming up to Nate’s hospital room. Opening the door, she leaned in and reassured herself that he was, indeed, sound asleep, a slight snore rising from his man’s throat.
“I still can’t believe what he went through,” she murmured.
Murhder’s voice was quiet. “It’s just the way it works for us.”
Making sure the door closed silently, they continued down the hall, walking side by side—and it felt normal. Natural. As if she had been striding next to him for years.
“So how’s your work with John?”
She exhaled. “Well, they refuse to tell me how he was injured. It’s the one piece I don’t have, but I’m working around that. At the end of the day, the ‘how’ is not as important as the ‘where.’ ”