Page 14

Seated in the family room, I scanned the concerned looks on the faces of my siblings. No one liked that I’d be leaving with Rhys. The idea of him storming the house with his knights had my anxiety spiking, as his threat to make me an only child echoed in my head.

“What the fuck is he waiting for?” Sig asked, his arms folded in front of his chest with thumbs pointing up. He widened his stance.

Ruger grunted, his shirt and pants both still stained in blood. “He’s a Van Helsing. They don’t travel without an entire entourage of knights. I doubt this asshole has the balls to walk in here and take our sister from us. My money’s on him demanding we send her out there. It isn’t happening. If he isn’t man enough to walk in here and look us in the eye, he isn’t taking you, Remington. Period.”

“It isn’t up for debate,” Savage muttered with tension tightening her delicate features. “She asked him to come for her. We don’t get to question her choices, Ruger. She’s not a child anymore.”

Sinking deeper into the comfortable couch, I crossed my ankles. Ruger made a sound of disagreement that caused a sinking feeling in the pit of my belly. I decided to ignore it and reached forward for the teacup, wincing as a pain seared in my shoulder.

“You’re not healing as you should be, Remi,” Winchester muttered with a worried look. “You should be healed by now.”

“She’s mortal,” Sig pointed out with his gaze softening on me. “It’s always taken her longer than the rest of us to heal.”

Sig’s assessment forced my stomach to churn with uneasiness. No one other than Winchester knew I’d been forced to become immortal by my mother. She hadn’t told the others. I wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t trust them enough, or if she wanted to keep the information to herself.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I blew on my tea. Winchester brewed my favorite—cinnamon chai with a dab of heavy cream for texture. Sipping the heavenly drink slowly, I considered disclosing the other troubling issue I’d discovered today.

I’d tried healing myself as I normally did. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. The moment the hot curling iron touched my flesh, it left only an angry red burn mark. Foregoing mentioning it to them or adding to their long list of topics I’d already created, I set my teacup on the coaster and leaned back.

Fire healed me. Heat sealed my flesh together from injury. Only, it wasn’t doing it anymore. It left me anxious and uncertain about the changes I was experiencing. The hot iron should’ve been enough to lance the wound. It would have stopped the pain altogether. Why wasn’t it working?

“You’re certain he’s coming? He doesn’t seem to be in a rush to retrieve you, Trouble,” Siggy said, then sat beside me on the Chesterfield. “Is it possible that it was merely a dream?”

Shrugging at his question, I chose to remain silent instead of tossing out a guess. Between the oppressive feeling of being hunted, combined with worry over Rhys’ impending arrival, I was about to throw up.

If Rhys appeared tonight, would he leave without shedding blood? He’d threatened to make me an only child. If I thought his threat was credible, I wouldn’t have asked him to retrieve me. It would put a huge wedge between us if he murdered my family.

With a quiet breath, I leaned my head against Siggy’s shoulder. Exhaustion overcame me, but it wasn’t from sleep deprivation. It was bone deep exhaustion that weighed on my soul. As if I’d aged twenty years since yesterday.

“I’m over waiting for this asshole and his entire entourage to show the fuck up,” Ruger stated as he leaned against the wall, dropping his head back. “This has been the longest day of my fucking life—” A knock had his head lifting, then turning toward the door.

“Romeo’s here, Juliet,” Sig announced in a jovial tone.

My heartbeat began thundering in my chest, beating like the wings of a bird trapped in a cage. Heat flushed up my neck, slowly climbing as nervousness shot through me. Ruger looked to Winchester for direction. She gave it with a simple nod of her head.

“Bets on the number of assholes he brought with him?” Sig asked, grinning mischievously as he lifted his arm, placing it over my shoulder.

“My guess is an entire fucking army,” I responded softly, worry tightening my stomach into in anxiousness.

I didn’t entertain his question, choosing to place one hand over the other to conceal the trembling in both. Sweat trickled down my neck as I struggled to rein in my frayed nerves.

“Calm down, Remington,” Sig whispered against my ear as Ruger opened the door. “You don’t think we took precautions against what you’re imagining unfolding inside your head? We’ve not lasted this long to be taken out by the blade of a Van Helsing. Not even the head of their house.”

His scent entered the room long before him. Rhys’ dark outline hung in the doorframe with the moonlight at his back. The savagery he oozed forced a shiver to shoot down my spine. When he didn’t move further inside the entrance, I sensed him sizing up each of my siblings.

Knowing he was calculating how hard they’d be to kill caused uneasiness to wash through me, threatening to force me onto my knees, pleading for their lives. I couldn’t fathom the thought of losing another sibling tonight or ever again. Biting down on my tongue, I tasted the coppery tang of blood, using it to center myself.

“I’m here for my girl.” Rhys’ dark, deadly tone caused my insides to twist into a knot. Chewing my lip, I watched as Ruger stepped forward, knowingly blocking Rhys from entering.

Not waiting for an invitation, Rhys strode forward, slamming his shoulder into Ruger’s. Air became trapped in my lungs as I shot up from my seat, uncertain how either man would respond. Rhys turned, his darkening stare daring Ruger to say something.

Ruger, of course, didn’t disappoint. “Kept Juliet waiting long enough. Didn’t you, Romeo?” Rhys’ head tilted, as if he expected more. Ruger’s icy-blue stare thinned, a cocky smile stretching over his mouth.

“I’d have been here earlier, but you have a pest issue outside your home,” Rhys hissed as his jaw clenched, waiting for Ruger’s reply.

“Yeah, but you see, since we’re not technically a house, we’re unable to do anything more than defend our lives. Your rules, if I’m not mistaken, Romeo,” Ruger returned, crossing heavily tattooed arms over his wide chest. “We intend to stay around to ensure Remington is safe and tended to properly. I don’t imagine you’d allow that if we started breaking your rules.”

“You’d be correct. She won’t need you anymore. I’ll ensure both her safety and comfort. Feel free to get the fuck out of my town.”

Rhys dismissed Ruger, moving past him to enter the room where I waited. Cole, Acyn, and another man pushed through behind him. Dressed in a midnight blue suit, Rhys looked more like the head of a mafia than the alpha of an immortal house. Dark tresses were mussed, and he had a light dusting of a five o’clock shadow covering his jawline.

He entered the room as if he owned it, then seated himself without waiting for an invitation. Cole flanked his right, and Acyn took the left. Mikel, who glared as if he’d rather slaughter us than be standing here at all, stood at his back.

Mikel was the eldest of the Van Helsing children. Older than even Rhys. I’d never been able to rid myself of the chill his image inside the mansion had sent racing down my spine. Even now, I felt a similar reaction to staring into his chilling stare.

“Hello, Love,” Rhys purred with a smug smile playing on his mouth. Rhys’ eyes slid to Sig, dark head tilting as he systematically sized my brother up. Sig tugged me closer, leaning over to kiss me on the temple. “Is that supposed to piss me off? I know your sister inside and out, carnally. She’s not the type to indulge in incest.”

“I—” I stammered at what he’d stated. He wasn’t wrong, but how had he gotten the impression of that from the chaste kiss to my temple?

Sig chuckled, leaned closer, then planted another kiss. “She’s my baby sister, Van Helsing. You think I’d hand her over to a man who didn’t show emotion at finding her curled up with another man?”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission to take her.” Rhys’ words caused every eye in the room to land on both me and Siggy. “If you think to keep her from me, I counsel you to reconsider doing so.”

“What makes you think you have a claim to our sister?” Daisy asked, her delicate tone causing Cole’s head to turn in her direction. His eyes widened before narrowing as she continued speaking. “I understand how you could think an esoteric law applies here, but she’s young. Younger than any other immortal in this room. I do not see how it would connect you to her. She wasn’t alive, let alone aware, of what she was doing when she offered you a sword.”

“It doesn’t matter whether Remington was alive or not. Our bloodlines made a concordat that’s bound by the blood we inherited through them. The blood in our veins was there the day our families created the pact together. The greatest union made is of a Silversmith and Van Helsing. One to forge the weapon, the other to wield it.” Rhys peered at the faces around him, each one willingly listening to what he said.

“Educate us, Van Helsing. How does Remington unravel her soul from yours?” Winchester inquired, her eyes thinning, mirroring his.

“Souls can never be separated from mine. Not even death would free her of the connection we share. Unlike most binding souls, our ancestors chose to make the duration of the binding unending,” he informed with an air of confidence.

My stomach somersaulted viciously. Sweat beaded on my neck, slowly dripping down it as his words vibrated through me. My palms became sweaty as I wrung my hands where they sat on my lap. Rhys’ darkening stare lowered to them, then slowly lifted to settle on my face.

“I’ve been honest with what our connection means with Remington. I never kept the truth of it from her. Ever.” He hadn’t lied about our souls tethering together as one or what it meant for us. He also hadn’t warned me of what my folly meant, either. “She knows the truth of my words. Even if she doesn’t enjoy hearing them.”

“Sharing a connection is one thing. Remington never agreed to create life with you.”

“It’s a little late to argue that point. She carries the heir to the House of Van Helsing. End of discussion.” The tic in his jaw warned that he was finished answering their questions.

“If you hurt her, know that nothing will stop us from coming for her. Nothing,” Ruger stated in a matter-of-fact tone. It caused tension to flood the room as every male felt the threat of violence drifting through the air.

Savage made a loud, sultry purring sound, entering the chamber. She was dressed in tight leather pants that she’d paired with a tight, blood-red lace, corset that tied up in the back. The pants hugged the curve of her thighs and generous backside. The corset’s crisscrossed back allowed a peek of the artwork tattooed on her spine. Strolling through it, she made a show of sitting down on the arm of the Chesterfield. It forced the Van Helsing brothers’ attention to her, cutting the tension before it could stew. Smiling coquettishly, she twirled a length of her silver hair around her finger.

Once she was certain she held their undivided attention, she spoke assertively. “If you intend to take Remington, we’re going to need a vow that she will not be harmed. Not by you.” She pointed at Rhys. “Not by anyone.” Her finger indicated the other males standing around him before she bit her lip, releasing it slowly. “While she’s beneath your roof, she’s to be considered a guest and be given sanctuary. From what I’ve learned, you vowed never to offer sanctuary to a Silversmith again.”

“Indeed,” Rhys hissed through clenched teeth.

“Prove to us that she’ll be safe with you. Offer her sanctuary within your home. Help ease our minds. After all, she’s the most innocent of our line, even though Remington’s the strongest.”

“You don’t have to do that, Rhys,” I argued, hating that he’d followed her every word, while watching her blood-red lips. Not many men could refuse Savage when she made the effort to attract them.

“Remington’s protected by something much stronger than a vow of sanctuary would provide. She’s my silver, which means I’m bound by honor to protect her from harm. I cannot harm her, just as she can never harm me or my bloodline.”

Rhys turned toward Acyn, then tipped his head. “I brought you a gift, Love.” It caused Acyn to step closer to the coffee table that sat between us and my family.

My eyes slid to Winchester, who stepped closer to me as Acyn produced a bag, which he placed before us. Opening it, he yanked out a decapitated head.

“It’s an assurance of my ability to protect her from anyone stupid enough to put their hands on her.”

“Meow. If you weren’t a Van Helsing, I’d be impressed,” Savage hummed with admiration. “Not every man brings you the head of your enemies. I’m envious of you, Remi.”

“You shouldn’t have,” I whispered as saliva pooled in my mouth.

My stomach roiled, threatening to empty its contents onto my lap. Rhys’ mouth twisted, curving into a disarming smile. Acyn placed the man’s head on the table. The skull was missing the eyes, as if they’d been ripped or maybe carved out. A blade protruded from between his lips. Sig leaned forward, gripping a handful of hair as he picked up the grotesque thing to examine.

“And who would this unlucky bastard be?” Siggy asked in a tone filled with intrigue. “Please tell me this is the asshole who shot Remington.”

Rhys remained silent. His gaze held mine with something dark and deadly simmering in the endless pools of azure. My thighs clenched as the memory of the dreamscape flooded my mind. The possessiveness he’d displayed at discovering I’d been hurt. It was hard to ignore how turned on I was by the darker, sinister side of him.

“That would be the last asshole who thought to touch my girl,” Rhys growled, forcing Siggy to release a low whistle.

Scanning the brothers’ faces, I noted Cole’s eyes thinning as his curious gaze slid over my sister. Eyebrows furrowing, I found Acyn glaring with silent accusation toward me. Rubbing my hands together, I returned my focus to Rhys’ hard, sharply chiseled features.

As my frown deepened, I noticed the blood splattered over the collar of his dress shirt. On his cheek, darker crimson droplets painted his bronzed flesh. Leaning back in the chair, he smirked as he slowly dragged his stare down my body, then returned it to my face.

“Remington has my vow of protection.” Rhys’ hands lifted as he placed them on the armrests of the chair. The motion had the entire room tensing as everyone held their breath. “That vow doesn’t extend to her family.”

“I’d like to see the blade she forged for you,” Winchester stated, bypassing the argument Rhys sought to ignite.

Rhys’ stare finally left me as it drifted to Winchester. “That isn’t happening.”

“I don’t intend to take it. Remington is a master at creating beautiful pieces. In our bloodline, a sword has always held the greatest meaning. The fact that Remington can forge them at her tender age is quite an achievement. It speaks volumes about her artistic talent. I merely wished to see how far she’s come since I saw her last piece,” she elaborated, even though Rhys wasn’t budging.

Rhys’ jaw twitched as he rose to his feet. “We’re leaving, Love. I do hope you’re ready as you vowed to be when I arrived.”

“I’m ready.” Climbing to my feet, I placed a hand over my abdomen. Turning to Winchester, I smiled sadly as she stepped closer. Her lips tugged down in the corners.

“We’re taking Nyx with us,” Acyn growled. My eyes rounded as what he said sank in. “She’s not dead, Remington. She’s in here.” He tapped his forefinger on his head. “I’m taking the nymph home with me.”

“That’s fine,” Winchester muttered, nodding toward the kitchen. “I only ask that you not disturb the other . . . corpse. It’s our brother, who is being prepared for final rites.” Winchester’s voice had cracked. It had all four brothers noting the sense of loss drifting around the chamber.

“Come to me, Remington.”

I didn’t hesitate to move across the room, sliding into place beside Rhys’ powerful physique. The moment I stood before him. He carefully slid the strap of my camisole over my shoulder. His thumb slid over the burn as his eyes thinned, locking with mine. A quick jerk of my head stalled any question he intended to ask.

Slowly, he pulled my strap back up before undoing his suit jacket. His blood-soaked undershirt became fully visible. Worry ignited in my eyes, causing one side of his mouth to lift in a cocky smile.

“Don’t worry. It’s not my blood. I’m not sloppy enough to allow them to get a chance to take a shot at me. Slip your arms into the jacket, Love.” Rhys helped as I slid into the heavy garment. “It’s Kevlar. I’m not willing to take any chances with you.” Turning toward Acyn, he spoke in a commanding tone. “Get your nymph. We’re leaving. Now.”