Velvet Cataclysm (Princes of the Underground 1)

Alison strained for air when she saw his extended fangs.

“Let go of her, Isi,” Saint growled.

Alison stumbled out of Isi’s hold when he suddenly released her. She didn’t know how Saint had gotten there all of a sudden, but she was thankful for his powerful presence.

Wasn’t she?

“You’ve got a bunch of whack-jobs for followers, Saint,” she said before she passed his tall, forbidding shadow and ran like hell for Whitby.

Christina’s muscles tensed when she heard someone enter Aidan’s room. She didn’t want to see Saint right now. She was so disoriented by what had occurred, still existing in a numb shock that Aidan had transformed into a wolf. Her heart kept insisting that Saint would never harm her son, but if that were the case, what the hell had she just witnessed? Even if Saint weren’t directly responsible, he’d somehow tainted Aidan.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was Alison who entered the room, carrying a bag with the items she’d requested. Her brow furrowed in concern as the girl drew nearer.

“Alison, what’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Alison gave a bark of laughter and shook her head as if to clear it. “I didn’t see a ghost, but these grounds are dark at night…and…and creepy.”

“Thanks for going,” Christina murmured as she opened the bag.

“Do you want me to fill that up with water for you?”

“Yes, please,” Christina said gratefully, handing the girl the large plastic cup with a lid and straw. “The kitchen is on the opposite side of the hallway from the entertainment studio.”

Alison nodded, her eyes looking huge in her pale face. Christina regretted the girl’s involvement in all this drama and danger, but there was no way to resolve it for the time being. She brushed Aidan’s damp hair off his brow.

For now, the only thing she could consider was her son.

“Christina, why did you act like it was something Saint did that made Aidan sick?” Alison whispered hoarsely a half hour later. They both sat at the edge of Aidan’s bed. Christina had lifted his head and managed to get down most of the Tylenol. Aidan’s eyes had fluttered open when she’d poured a little ice water into his mouth, but he’d almost immediately fallen back into a deep sleep.

Christina closed her eyes, making them water and burn. She didn’t think she could put the truth of Aidan’s transformation into a wolf into words. Maybe she was afraid if she spoke it out loud, it would make it true.

“I don’t know if he’s responsible or not. He says he isn’t.”

Alison glanced warily at the closed door. “Are you having second thoughts about trusting him? You guys were all hot for each other earlier this evening. If pheromones had weight, you would have been swimming in a sea of them.”

Christina couldn’t suppress a groan when she thought of her and Saint’s impassioned lovemaking. How could something so horrific follow so closely on the heels of something so wonderful?

“I’m getting creeped out by staying here, Christina. It’s like Saint is keeping us prisoner or something.” Alison leaned toward her and whispered conspiratorially. “I think we should try to escape Whitby.”

Christina sighed and grabbed Aidan’s limp hand. “Aidan’s not going to be going anywhere for a while, Alison. And that means I’m not.”

Later, Christina cracked open a gritty eyelid.

“What the—”

She flung herself off the bed, glancing around the dawn-infused bedroom.

“Aidan is with Fardusk.”

She spun around to a corner of the room, following the direction of that low, resonant voice. Saint sat in an upholstered chair, his long legs bent at the knee, his thighs spread. His eyes seemed to glow in the shadows as he watched her.

“His fever?” she demanded

“Broken.”

He uncoiled his long body from the chair and stood. He wore a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt. Even though she was angry at him, and wary of his intentions, Christina couldn’t help but admire the sleek, animal-like grace of his movements as he came toward her. When he got several feet away, she stepped back.

He planted his scuffed, black leather boots on the spot. A ripple of emotion went through his face at her defensive gesture.