Page 25 of Unholy Gambit: Checkmate in Blood (A Paranormal Halloween #5)

Axel carried her through a side door of the complex and up the stairs to the eighth floor. She was bleeding still — not fast, she was in no danger unless it got infected, but the sharp, copper scent of his Aurélie’s essence in the air meant he’d failed her.

Aury pointed to a closet, he opened it, and she said, “Fuck. She has the big kit with her. Grab the small one. It should have what we need.”

He held her with one arm, grabbed it with the other, and strode to her bedroom. He gently settled her on the bed, and then pushed her down when she tried to sit up.

“I won’t break because of a cut on my leg!” She sat up again. “Chill! I’ve been hurt worse and survived, we just need to clean it, so it doesn’t get infected.”

He shook his head at her, but let her sit up, propped back on her hands. The wound was only seeping blood. She wasn’t going to lose much more with her heart higher than the injury.

“At least the dress didn’t get hurt,” she said. “I even managed to keep it out of the blood. Can you hand me one of the oversized shirts out of the closet, please?”

He gave her an incredulous look, and she lifted a brow. “Or I could stand up and go get it myself.”

Damned hard-headed human. He walked into her closet and returned with the black shirt he could see in her thoughts.

He turned while she pulled the dress off and put the tee on, and then turned back to look at her.

“Thank you,” she said with a sweet smile, as if she wasn’t sitting there with an open gash on her leg, worried about a fucking dress.

He glared at her. “Your leg is bleeding, you’re holding tension in your lower back that has it on the edge of going into spasms, I just carried you off a fucking haunted hill where an invisible bastard slashed the fuck out of your leg, and you were worried about your dress getting blood on it?!”

“You’re pissed.” The surprise in her voice telling him she’d been oblivious.

“It was also about not having my boobs all front and center, not just keeping the dress clean.” She gave a tiny shrug.

“This shirt is black, so if some blood gets on the bottom, it won’t stain it, but mostly, I’m not spilling cleavage all over the place. ”

He gave her a steady look, and she sighed. “I’m sorry I worried you. Thank you for taking care of me.”

Only slightly mollified, he opened the trauma kit, strode to the bathroom, washed his hands, found a dark towel, returned to her, carefully slid it under her leg, and settled the saline, gauze, and tape in easy reach.

Aury had a flashback of all the doctor visits. Hospital stays. He could sense her thoughts, focusing on his face while he worked, telling herself it was different. A minor little wound.

He leaned in, cleaned the cut with the saline. “You were accurate. It’s borderline but should be okay with butterfly bandages.”

She’d winced a little from the saline, so he decided to take it upon himself to turn her pain sensors off before he put the antiseptic on.

“I’d have done that if I couldn’t handle it.” Her scent told him she was edging past irritated, but her voice was completely calm. Reasonable. “Pain is important. It’s how you know if something is healing or getting worse. I need a baseline reading now. Turn it back on, please.”

He didn’t look up to respond. “I can tell by scent if there’s a problem.”

“Handy. Turn it back on, Axel.”

He shook his head, but he did as she asked.

He took his time with the butterfly strips, his hands steady, sure.

* * * *

“You’ve done this before,” Aury commented. The pain was back, but he wasn’t hurting her any worse while he pulled everything back together with the adhesive strips.

He glanced up, looked back to the job at hand. “I’ve lived a long time.”

“I’m pretty sure butterfly bandages haven’t been around seven hundred years.”

He chuckled. “And you’d be right.”

He finished it off with gauze and tape over the top. “Roll over. Your back’s been bothering you since you first opened the door to me, and all last night, too. Let me help you with it.”

She pursed her lips. He wasn’t wrong, but… “You just want to see my butt in my panties.”

He leaned in, kissed her lips. Trailed slow, deliberate kisses along her jaw to the tender hollow beneath her ear. His voice was low, his cool breath ghosted over her skin. “If I wanted you out of the panties, you’d be out of them by now.”

Judging by the way her clit was throbbing from that , he was probably right.

And honestly, her lower back was still bothering her, and arguing suddenly didn’t make a lot of sense. She rolled over, adjusted her hair, rested her cheek on the cool comforter, and stretched her arms down by her sides.

He started at her shoulders and worked down, massaging the tension away as he moved lower and lower.

By the time he reached the painful areas, working them didn’t hurt as badly as if he’d gone straight there.

It was so hard to keep the muscles under his fingers relaxed. She managed it a few minutes, but then gasped and felt it all tighten when he pressed into a particularly tender area.

“You’re tense through your left QL,” he murmured, continuing in the same area, but a little gentler. “All the way up to the lat.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

His hands moved like someone who knew every inch of human anatomy.

It took her a minute to adjust to relaxing under his cool fingers.

They weren’t icy, just room temperature, and once she thought of them as an extra help towards reducing the inflammation, they were perfect, a soothing contrast that melted tension with every slow pass of his fingers.

“You’re a massage therapist too? On top of your many other talents?”

“No. I just know a lot about anatomy.”

She thought that through, trying to figure it out, but nothing came immediately to mind.

“Why would you need to know where specific muscles are? Or what they’re called?”

“I promised not to lie to you.”

“Then don’t start now.”

“I have many tools in my toolbox. You know of the spiders and snakes, but sometimes I have to resort to the old-fashioned kind of torture. I’m quite good at my job.” He sighed. “I’m not a sadist who enjoys torture simply for the sake of hurting people. It just happens to be something I’m good at.”

She recoiled a little.

At first.

But then she remembered the gang members.

She knew he was in her head, but she said it out loud anyway.

“Whatever you’ve done, whoever you’ve been, I like who you are now.

Maybe I’d have opted to go a different route with the gang-rape thing, but I’m also not wholly certain you didn’t make the exact right choice.

” She pulled in a slow breath while his fingers probed sore muscles.

“If I think you’re wrong, I’ll tell you.

If I’m in the grey area with you, I’ll tell you that, too. ”

Strong, unhurried fingers pressed into the knots of her lower back in slow, arcing strokes, coaxing the tension to loosen. When she flinched, he eased the pressure and let his touch drift upward, mapping each muscle like he was memorizing her. When she sighed, he lingered.

Eventually, he made it to her butt muscles, also tight, also in need of work, but now, his skilled fingers stirred her up while they relaxed her. She squirmed under his touch, heat pooling low in her belly.

“That’s not where we’re headed tonight, Aurélie.

“Your hands feel ridiculously good.”

His thumbs worked just above the curve of her ass. Her spine finally started to loosen. Her breath deepened.

And her clit throbbed between her legs.

“I’m pretty sure my leg’s okay.”

“It should be. If I scent infection, we’ll get you some antibiotics.”

“No. It’s okay. It’s fine. Your fingers can keep exploring.”

He breathed in. Chuckled. “While I appreciate being given permission, I’m afraid nothing’s happening tonight, darling Aurélie.”

She wiggled her hips a little. Lifted her butt. “You’re cruel.”

“No.” He worked one of the large muscles with his whole hand in one long, soothing sweep, the cool press of his palm a contrast to the heat building in her skin. “Not tonight. Not after blood and fear. Relax for me. No more adrenaline on this night.”

He eased her hair back and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck.

“I want you clear-headed the next time I touch you like that.”

She didn’t respond right away. Just lay there, warm and loose and safe.

Then: “This counts as touching me like that .”

His voice was closer now, a whisper at her ear. “Not even close.”

And still, he didn’t take her up on it. Didn’t even kiss her again. Just laid down beside her, clothes still on, one hand resting on her hip. Heavy. Protective. Real.

She drifted off before she could ask him to stay.

* * * *

Axel heard Ruby’s footsteps outside the apartment minutes before she keyed herself in.

His Aurélie was sleeping soundly, so he gently levitated himself up and off the mattress, and then made his way to the living room, so she’d hear him walking towards her once she was inside.

It’s best not to startle daywalkers in the middle of the night.

“She’s fine,” he told her when he was certain she’d seen him, “but we had an issue.”

He spoke softly, explaining what’d happened at the party, what he’d done to fix it. “I’ll replace what we used in the kit.”

She shook her head. “I have a stash I can pull from, to restock. Thanks for taking care of her.”

Her gaze landed on the roses. “Damn.” She paused, looking them over. “Four dozen? Overkill, but she’s totally worth it.”

“And more.”

She sighed, sat, and unstrapped her boots. “Sit. I’m going to spill some tea, and I need you to keep where you heard it from to yourself.”

He sat and waited. He’d had a crash course in modern English on the plane across the Atlantic, and he was pretty sure she was saying she was about to share gossip.

“Everyone’s heard of Humphrey,” she said. “The grumpy-old-man of the local coterie. Not that he looks old, of course, but he acts old. It isn’t just that he won’t own a smartphone because he never had a landline, either. He isn’t stuck in the 1900s, he’s stuck in the 1500’s. The Renaissance.”

He knew two dozen vampires stuck in old centuries. Some masters tolerated it, others did not.

“Vampires change names, so it’s possible I’ve known him under a different moniker, but I do not know a Humphrey in this century. I assume you feel I need to be aware of him for a reason?”

“Yeah. Sounds like he’s expressing an interest in you.

Marco makes him live at the coterie house, since he refuses to own a device he can be texted on.

” She rolled her eyes. “Rumor has it, there’s a screen hanging on his wall that shows any group texts.

Anyway, he’s apparently been out in the public areas of the house more, paying attention when someone mentions you.

Anson thinks he’s going to take advantage of the visitor challenge rules. ”

Axel considered who the vampire now known as Humphrey might’ve been in a prior life, and hoped to hell it wasn’t Giovanni. “Have you seen him? Can you think of his face and send it to me?”

She shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve only officially met a few of your kind, and I’m happy keeping it that way. Anson isn’t powerful enough to be much of a protector.”

“You are special to my Aurélie. Should it work out so I can oath to Marco and join, I’ll put both of you under my protection, but doing so now, when I might not be around…”

“Yeah, I get it, and I appreciate the offer. I understand how big of a deal protection vows are, so truly, thank you. We’ll see how things go. I want what’s best for Aury, and so far you seem good for her, but if the local vamps don’t want you here? Marco’s permission may not mean shit.”

He nodded. “If Humphrey is who I suspect, he has reason to hate me but isn’t likely to win a challenge. Thank you for the warning.”

He said his goodbyes, made his way to his car, and texted Adelaide. Do you have time for a brief conversation? I can come to you if it’s convenient, or we can meet somewhere.

His phone rang. “Adelaide, how are you doing this fine fall night?”

“I’m about to punish a ten-year-old baby vamp who can’t keep his fangs in his pants. How are you, brother?”

Ah, so she was working and couldn’t meet him. He’d rather do just about any job outside of training the newly-turned to learn control.

“I’m curious about Humphrey. Anything I should know?”

She grunted. “Yeah. Speaking of hard-ons, Giovanni’s had one for you since…” she sighed. “No need in regurgitating history, but watch your back.”

“Thank you, sister.”

She hung up, and he slid the phone in his pocket, the name a bitter taste on his tongue. He drove home, and once again walked the city he wanted to call home, threading through its streets on foot. Learning all the parts of it, scenting the air, and hearing everything .

All the while, he considered how best to handle Giovanni, viewing his own actions centuries later through the lens of being in love for the first time.

Now, Axel understood exactly why Giovanni’s vendetta had endured centuries.

Because if someone harmed his Aurélie, he wouldn’t rest until they’d suffered a thousand-fold.