Page 15 of Bloodbane

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Defend of Devour

{ G R A Y S O N }

I ascend from the darkness slowly, not climbing to the surface but floating, gradually becoming aware of the warm weight draped across my chest and the throbbing ache south of my ribs.

Disorientation tugs at me. The bare bulb of an old lamp throws harsh shadows onto pale mint walls, where brightly illustrated anatomical posters are half-hidden by large shelves piled high with plastic-wrapped supplies.

The clinic, then.

The fact I don’t remember being brought here is a bad sign.

The wall bears no clock, but I wouldn’t know how much time has passed even if it did. The only hint of the hour comes from the twin windows in the room, darkened by shuttered blinds, silhouetted by the rectangle of soft peach-tinged light bleeding around the edges. Dawn, if I had to hazard a guess.

The weight of Ruby’s upper body draped across my bare chest is an oddly calming balm. She shifts in her sleep, wriggling on the chair positioned beside the table. Hesitation slows my hand before I trail the back of my fingers over her sleep-flushed cheek. When dark lashes flutter but don’t lift, I risk repeating the caress.

So strong yet so fragile, humans are a weakness I can ill afford. Yet I can’t seem to fight the hold this one has on me. Perhaps more alarmingly, I can’t find the desire to try.

Moaning softly in her sleep, Ruby moves again, her neck stretching out enticingly. The slow, steady beat of blood throbbing under thin skin calls to me. I lean closer. It’s been so long since I’ve fed, and it would be so easy to sink my fangs into the soft flesh. I wouldn’t drain her, simply allow the sweet nectar to flow from Ruby’s veins to mine and break my torpid state.

Thirst ravages my throat as parallel desires wage war: defend or devour. The choice is curiously easy. I keep my fangs locked behind tight lips.

I will not allow my darkness to extinguish Ruby’s light. The world will mourn only one of us when the time comes. And though I may be poised on Hel’s doorstep, I can’t surrender to the abyss quite yet, not when traces of my prey cling to Ruby’s skin.

Possessiveness flashes through me, but the spark is quickly doused by cold reality; Ruby no more fits with me than she does with the lycans. Nevertheless, she has somehow set herself between two opposing forces in a world she doesn’t know exists, a world she can never be part of. The price of entry comes at too high a cost.

I’d been short-sighted in thinking that confessing would keep Ruby from delving deeper into the events at the lake. It has only served to push her in the opposite direction. In her determination to disprove my declaration, she keeps putting herself in danger, albeit inadvertently. And despite my warning, Ruby had, it seems, wandered into the wolf den and ventured close enough to the teeth of the enemy to come away covered in their scent. Perhaps I’ve given the human too much credit. For a brilliant woman, Ruby Evans has been exceedingly stupid.

But then, so have I.

I should never have intervened that day on the lake. I’m still unsure why I had. After years spent hunting the bastard shifter, I’d been so close. Taking the mutt’s life would have cost me my own, but it would have been a price worth paying. The sins of the father would’ve been atoned with a pound of flesh torn from his kin. The bloodline would be broken, and I would meet my end in battle as it always should have been.

But then I’d seen Ruby—jacket off, waving it like a matador wielding a cape, attempting to best the mutts with nothing more than tenuously held courage. I’d watched the smaller two wolves launch themselves, propelling the human headfirst into the truck. But when Pretorius moved over her, pawed at her prone body, opened its jaws, and lowered its head for the kill, I hadn’t been able to stop myself.

Yes, I’d been foolish to interfere that day, and more stupid still to entertain the strange connection each moment that has followed.

Ruby jolts awake with a gasp, rearing back so violently she almost topples off the chair, but her fingers find purchase on the edge of the table, stopping her decline and steadying herself. She stretches her neck to the side, grimacing at the resulting cracks.

“Well, well. Look who finally decided to rejoin the land of the living,” Ruby grinds out, her voice sleep-roughened. She tries for a smile, but it doesn’t hold. The harsh light casts deep shadows beneath her eyes.

“If I look half as bad as you, we’re both in serious trouble.”

The light remark earns me a real smile as Ruby rubs a hand over her eyes and stretches her neck to the other side. “I blame my pillow,” she teases, running her fingers over the ridged expanse of my exposed abs before yanking her hand back, her cheeks flushing. “Um… I mean, you’re a lot harder than my usual gel-infused memory foam designed for side sleepers.”

Desire threads through me at the feather touch. I take a moment before answering, needing to be sure my retracted fangs will stay that way. “You’re welcome to share mine. I’m sure this table is more comfortable than that chair.”

“Yet still very much designed for only one person at a time. Besides, I’m not sure I’d fit alongside you. You are rather… solid.”

“If not alongside, then definitely on top,” I murmur before I can stop myself.

Ruby’s tongue swipes along her lower lip, pupils edging wide as they fix on my mouth. For one fleeting moment, I’m sure I’m about to find out how Ruby tastes... her mouth, at least. But dark eyes squeeze shut, and she pulls in a shaky breath. When her eyelids finally drag up, desire has been dulled by determination.

“How are you feeling?”

A not-so-small part of me mourns the change of direction, but I follow Ruby’s lead without complaint. “I’ve been better,” I answer honestly. My body won’t endure much longer without fresh blood, but that’s a burden I won’t lay at Ruby’s feet. Or tie around her neck like a noose. “Why am I at the clinic?”

“Ah, now there’s a thrilling saga. What do you remember?”

Shadows and whispers. Fire and ice.

“Not much.”

“That’s not surprising. Given the fact you actually consented to medical treatment, my guess is you were feeling pretty shit to start with.” Ruby’s lips tremble before pressing together tightly. “Milo thinks the silver in the dressing triggered some kind of allergic reaction.”

I nod slowly. Close enough.

“But the only three EpiPens here must have been old stock or faulty or something because the damned things broke.” Ruby shakes her head, her eyes losing focus as if watching the afternoon’s events replay in her mind. “You almost died because Milo’s overdue on a damn stocktake. He’s coming in later today with Cooper to go over every single thing in here, to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’m so sorry.” She crushes her teeth into her lower lip.

Wanting to soften the self-inflicted blow, I offer her a small smile. “The epinephrine wouldn’t have worked.”

Ruby’s eyebrows crease together, but the tortured lip receives a reprieve, springing, red and puffy, from its enamel cage.

“Really?”

“It’s not an allergy, just an extreme sensitivity. Regardless of whether it’s prolonged contact with trace amounts of Argentum or acute significant exposure—” I tip my head toward the silver scars snaking around my arm, “—it’s enough to overwhelm my system and…”

“Possibly kill you.” Ruby finishes, voice strained.

My lips press into a tight seam as I nod, keenly aware I’m losing control. True, I’ve always been reckless—some part of me perpetually dancing on the edge of self-destruction, loathing what I’ve become—but delivering my vulnerabilities on a silver platter? Trusting a human I don’t know? That’s a gold-plated invitation for Hel to come and claim me.

“We irrigated the wound to clear it as best we could. You, ah, well… It’s probably best you don’t remember, you were pretty far gone at that point.” Ruby’s voice drops low. “I wasn’t sure you were going to last the night.”

I stiffen at the feather-light touch tracing the edges of the large, sterile pad taped to my side.

“These scars, the lines are random. Organic. But those ones...” Ruby nods toward the scars coiling up my arm. “Those are different. Structured. Like they were created that way. Is that what happened? Did someone hurt you? Caused them deliberately?”

Yellow eyes swim before my open ones. “Something like that,” I mutter darkly.

A dozen emotions flit through the crystalline depths of Ruby’s mismatched eyes until finally, she gives a small nod, affirming a decision only she knows.

She pulls the blanket up to cover my exposed skin, smoothing it gently under my neck. After an almost imperceivable beat of hesitation, she leans back and tugs her pullover up over her head. She places the bundled fabric on the table before fidgeting with her bra strap, her shoulders curling forward. After a deep breath, she sits straighter, though her discomfort at being prominently on display remains, hanging so thick in the air that I can taste it.

The mess of scars decorating the center of Ruby’s chest is clear in my peripheral vision, but I don’t lower my eyes from hers. The gesture, though unnecessary, oddly touches me. But this goes beyond our game of tit-for-tat.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“This is our thing, isn’t it? Sharing? Meeting halfway?” Ruby’s hands, curled into fists, contrast the forced lightness of her voice. “Mine was a car accident. I almost died. My parents did,” she says matter-of-factly before her eyes soften. “It’s strange to have the course of your whole life set by an event you can’t remember.”

“Sounds like a small mercy to me,” I say gently. “Hard to be haunted by ghosts you have no memory of.”

“I think I’d prefer the ghosts. It’s maddening to know something happened but have no recollection, you know? To bear the scars without carrying the memories.” Ruby picks up her shirt, twisting the fabric in her hands, and suddenly her desperation at needing to know what happened at the lake makes sense. “Although… I think it comes back to me sometimes, at night. Broken pieces. Flashes. I just wish I knew if the dreams are memories, or just something my brain has created to fill the gaps in the story.” Ruby’s far-off look settles on my arm. “Do you remember getting those?”

I envy Ruby’s blessing of oblivion. But blessings are beyond the grasp of cursed creatures. “Yes.” Every excruciating second.

Ruby’s unexpected chuckle breaks the tension. “Wow. I spill my guts to you and all I get in return is a single word?”

The lightness of Ruby’s laugh draws me from my dark memories, and I can’t stop the small smile blooming over my lips.

“Yes.”

“Oh, that’s cold, Grayson,” Ruby chuckles. “Alright, I’m ready. Lay it on me.”

And just like that, the game is on again.

There are so many things I need answers to, but what I want to ask has nothing to do with Ruby’s visit to the wolf den. I want to discover more about the beautifully complex woman perched beside me.

“How old were you?”

“Three days shy of five,” Ruby answers automatically. At my raised eyebrow, she shrugs. “The only details I know about the accident come from the police report and…” The pullover falls to her lap as she wrings her hands together.

“And?” I prompt, curious as to what has caused Ruby’s almost robotic calm to shift so rapidly to anxiety.

“Draven. Evander Draven,” Ruby says flatly, now picking at the cuticles of her left hand, seemingly without thought. “My father’s best friend in life and my legal guardian after his death.” The scent of blood bursts into the air from the ragged tear around Ruby’s thumbnail. She tucks the injured thumb into a fist and raises her gaze back to me, all light from earlier now gone. “We were on our way back home after visiting him when my father lost control of the car and wrapped it around a tree. My parents died instantly.”

Ruby’s hand lifts to the patterns decorating her chest. Her fingers travel the raised trails easily, as if she’s traced the paths so often they’re seared into her memory. I follow the movements, frowning as small fingers slide over a serrated line etched into her skin. The charcoal scar looks out of place amongst all the lighter pink-tinged scars flanking it.

No.

“I should have died, too,” Ruby says quietly. “But in a twist of fate worthy of a B-grade medical drama, the thing that almost killed me is the thing that ended up saving my life.”

No.

I pull myself to a sitting position. “What was it?”

Ruby grins, a spark of self-satisfaction replacing the agitation from moments ago. “Oh, no, Mr. Grayson. No more freebies for you. You’re going to have to earn—”

“ What saved you ?”

Ruby’s smile falls at the growled question. She hesitates before sighing. “I was impaled during the impact, but it turned out to be a good thing, strangely enough. It acted like a giant cork sticking out of my chest, helping keep at least a little of my blood inside my body, which in the grand scheme of things, turns out to be pretty important. And by cork, I mean a giant piece of ja—”

“Jagged metal.”

Ruby’s mouth falls open. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that ruining the ending of a story is rude?” Her quiet chuckle turns into a dry cough, but it fades beneath the ringing filling my ears.

Ruby’s voice sounds distant. Jumbled words slip through my mind before I can grasp them. It takes a hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently, to jolt me from the past once more.

“Grayson? You kinda zoned out there for a minute.” Ruby, now fully dressed, is standing next to the bed, looking down at me. Her lips press into a tight seam as she gives me a quick once-over. “I have to go. There’s been an incident at old Colonel Clark’s place. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

White noise screams inside my head, but I manage to keep my voice even. “I’ll be fine.”

Ruby hesitates, her weight shifting from foot to foot, eyes not moving from my face. She runs her teeth together in indecision. “Are you sure? I can call Milo…”

“ I’m fine. ” I force a little more steel into my voice. “Go.”

It’s another half-minute before Ruby nods. “Okay, well, Cooper will be here within the hour to collect you anyway. He knows to bundle you up to keep you safe from blisters.” She spins on her heel and heads to the clinic door. “I’ll be back at the station as soon as I can. There are spare blankets on the trolley beside you if you get cold.” She pauses in the doorway. “Oh, And Grayson? Don’t think I’ve forgotten. You owe me answers when I get back, and I plan on collecting.” Ruby’s tinkling laughter follows her as she slips through the door and pulls it closed behind her.

I stare at the now-empty chair beside me. I almost miss the beautiful chaos of humanity in times like these—my heart hammering in my throat, the rush of blood pounding in my ears, and beads of sweat dampening my hairline. The eerie stillness inside my body while my mind spirals out of control makes me feel hollow and cold.

Colder.

Finally understanding the reaction Ruby stirs in me should bring relief, but there’s nothing but anguish and disbelief. The connection I can’t deny nor resist isn’t some grand mystery, it’s familiarity. Ruby is the same child who had been bleeding out in my arms more than two decades ago.

I am the reason Ruby’s life has been forever changed; I can’t be the reason it ends.

I’d known that day in the clearing, watching my quarry flee, that there would be a reckoning. The mutt is coming for me, I can sense it. But the bastard won’t chance a repeat of our first encounter—unnatural shifting leaves him weak, vulnerable. No, he’ll come when the full moon hangs high in the sky, when his strength is at its peak. And when he does, he won’t care about collateral damage. I can’t be close to Ruby when Pretorius attacks. I need to leave, to lead the mutt away. There’s no other choice.

Abandoning Ruby is the only way to keep her safe.