Chosen by Sin Page 11

  “Argh.” Trosseau’s body jerked.

  Almost simultaneously, something pricked Dex’s sternum, as if it had passed through Trosseau’s body and barely missed penetrating his.

  Wincing, Trosseau let go of Dex and grabbed at his chest.

  Dex hadn’t heard anything, couldn’t see anything resembling a weapon having struck Trosseau, but blood sprayed out of the shape-shifter’s chest and all over him. As Trosseau went limp, Dex cursed, shoved his knife back into its sheath, grabbed Trosseau by his shirt, and whirled in an attempt to get them under cover. If he could get behind one of the stone columns at the church entrance…

  Within seconds, something hit him in the shoulder, something with the familiar feel of steel sinking into skin. Only when he lifted his hand, nothing protruded from his flesh. Blood coated his hand, a dark, translucent stain. Dex kept moving until he bypassed the columns. He shoved the shape-shifter through the front doors of the church and then pulled them shut. Diving to his left, he wrenched off his jacket, sweeping it around him like a matador’s cape. He cursed as the fabric jumped in several places.

  He somersaulted, then took cover behind one of the building’s front columns. He removed his knife from its sheath again, but swore again. This wasn’t close arm-to-arm combat, but a sneak attack by someone or something that could be hiding several yards away. But who was it? One of the three shape-shifters from inside? Damn. He needed to get to Trosseau. Find out what the hell had happened to make Trosseau freak out on Dex. Find out where Trosseau’s informant was hiding and what Trosseau had meant about “bridging.” But he wasn’t just going to run inside and leave the bastards to think he was running from them. No chance in hell.

  He scanned the perimeter, and still seeing nothing, he lifted his jacket and felt carefully within its folds. Several small sharp objects clung to the fabric. He pulled out what looked like small throwing stars, smaller than any he’d ever seen. But they weren’t made of metal. Rather, they resembled some kind of natural material. Almost like the stone façade of the church. Smooth yet rough. Like the details on the crocodile wrapped around the Archangel’s legs. Fossils? Scales? What the—

  “Dex Hunt!”

  The shout came from down the steps, a deep but timorous voice that had Dex’s brows climbing. Was there anyone in Paris who didn’t know who the hell he was?

  “I just saved your ass from that shape-shifter. The least you can do is come out. I won’t harm you.”

  “What? You run out of your little throwing stars?” he yelled back.

  “Look for yourself.”

  Cautiously, Dex peeked around the column. A man stood at the bottom of the steps. The dude was wearing nothing but a kilt.

  “Unless you think I’ll shoot them out from my dick, I assure you, you’re safe.”

  “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  “Okay. How about this—Jesmina sent me.”

  Shock upon hearing her name made him jerk. Jesmina? Seriously? How the hell would she even know he was here? Instantly, he wondered if she’d had anything to do with the shape-shifters’ refusal to talk to him. Or with whatever the hell had possessed Trosseau. The last time he’d seen her, he’d been attacked by Rurik. Granted, that had been in a dream, but he definitely wasn’t dreaming now. “Jesmina, huh? Does she want you to bring me to her with a heartbeat or without one?”

  “I assure you, she most definitely wants you to have a beating heart.”

  At the other guy’s words, Dex came out from his cover, his blade in hand, ready to throw it should the male make one wrong move. The dude was obviously trained in weaponry. He was also tall, bulky, a weapon in and of himself. He appeared human…Dex inhaled deeply but couldn’t read his scent.

  “We must tend to your wound. The poison in the darts will spread and disable you—I’m surprised it hasn’t done so already.”

  “Exactly what you had in mind, I imagine.” But despite his caustic words, he could feel himself weakening and struggled not to sway on his feet.

  “They weren’t meant for you. You got in my way.”

  “The shape-shifter…” He’d gone crazy. Like he’d been possessed. Yes, there’d been that moment of sanity, but he’d been ready to kill Dex. And he’d had the abnormal strength to do it, too. “Did you know him?”

  “Never seen him before, but he certainly looked pissed. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  Dex glared at him, and the male sighed.

  “Look, the shape-shifter is dead. I hit him four times. The poison has spread throughout his system. You can confirm it for yourself, if you like. Only quickly, if you don’t want to die.”

  Moving slowly, Dex went to the doors through which he’d shoved the shape-shifter and peeked inside. Sure enough, the shape-shifter was dead. He hadn’t died pretty either.

  The poison had turned his skin a light puce color. His eyes and every vein on his body were bulging.

  Dex really didn’t want to end up looking like that. A quick visual search outside confirmed there was no sign of the other shape-shifters. Warily, he turned back to the other male. At some point, the guy had donned a white linen shirt, boots, and backpack, but he’d kept the kilt. “What, were you cold?”

  The guy shrugged. “A kilt’s easy to get in and out of when I need to move, but I keep extra clothes with me just in case.”

  Since the guy was clearly waiting for Dex to ask “in case what?” he didn’t. Instead, he confirmed, “So you’re going to take me to Jesmina, huh?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How did you—how did she—know I was here?”

  “She is the one who sent me for you, Mr. Hunt. As to her contacts or means of information, I would only be guessing.”

  “And I should trust you why?”

  The male sighed impatiently. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you. Whoever you are, you managed to make Jesmina happy. At least for a short time, which for her is still priceless.”

  Dex gritted his teeth. “Who are you to her? Besides her retriever?”

  He didn’t look insulted by the jab, merely amused. “I’m everything and nothing.”

  “A riddle. Great. And what am I?”

  “You, Dex Hunt, are about to find out that we have much in common. We’re both dualities for her.”

  “What duality am I?”

  “You are her life and her death.”

  “You gonna explain that?”

  “I rather think I’ll leave that up to her.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  PALADINE ABBEY

  AUVERGNE REGION, FRANCE

  Bringing Dex to Jesmina meant traveling several hours by car and then train. Apparently, it also meant bringing him to an estate fit for royalty. Jes’s residence put Knox’s well-appointed mansion in the Vamp Dome to complete and utter shame, which was saying quite a lot. No wonder she’d called him “were” with such disdain—forget his mixed-race heritage; he was a virtual peasant compared to the kind of people she must associate with.

  She lived in a freaking castle. It was dark out, but the place was awash with light from hundreds of outdoor lamps. He could clearly make out a sprawling green lawn. Fancily trimmed hedges. A vast garden with an enormous iron gazebo and mounds upon mounds of blooming flowers and tall, elegant trees.

  Dex and the male who’d finally introduced himself as Cy were just approaching the front entryway when he heard faint shouts somewhere to the east of them.

  Cy cocked his head and frowned. “This way,” he snapped.

  He led Dex to the side of the monstrous estate and to a tall set of wooden double doors through which the voices and shouts were getting louder.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Dex asked.

  “Just a regular day in the life of Jes. I told you, she wants to see you right away. I’m simply following orders.” He smirked, as if he found the idea of taking orders from Jes humorous, and Dex understood why. In their short journey to Jes’s home, Dex had learned enough about Cyrus
Mead to know he didn’t take orders from anyone, not unless he had his own reasons.

  So what were his reasons for following Jes’s orders? What could Cy possibly gain from bringing Dex to her?

  As Cy reached out to open the wooden doors, Dex girded himself for his first glimpse of her. He reminded himself that while she might be an immortal and a loaded one at that, he’d seen her naked. He’d seen her perfect body, but he’d also seen her imperfections. She’d been self-conscious when he’d bared her right arm and caught sight of the thick scars that covered it, but her vulnerability had only made her seem more accessible to him. Which in turn had made her even more desirable.

  But it didn’t matter how much Dex had prepared himself to see her again. Because Dex’s first glimpse of Jesmina Martin shocked the hell out of him.

  When Cy swept open the big wooden doors, the brightly lit room immediately reminded Dex of a hospital and he saw Jes covered in blood. Thankfully, it wasn’t her own, but the five seconds it took his brain to process that made his heart gallop in horror. Leave it to a vampire to look classy even with her hands halfway inside someone’s chest.

  What also shocked him was the fact she looked nothing like the vibrant vampire he’d met in the United States. She’d dyed her silver hair dark, but it wasn’t just that. She looked drained. Weak. Of course, they weren’t in the United States anymore. Here in Europe, vampires didn’t get to live openly, which meant she probably spent most of her time indoors, hiding who she was and what she needed to survive. In addition, although Europe contained far more immaculates, those humans with pure blood who hadn’t taken the anti-vamp vaccine distributed by the United States during the War, it must still be hard to drum up humans willing to give their blood to vampires and at the same time keep their existence a secret. So maybe that was why she looked weaker. Still, Dex couldn’t help wondering why she hadn’t just stayed in the United States.

  She was in some kind of operating room that had been devised out of the basement of the ancient stone building. Like Jes’s hotel room in L.A., the room was simple, modern, and clean, but instead of a bed it featured a large surgical table and a host of gleaming surgical tools. Jes glanced up when Dex and Cy walked into the room, but she didn’t acknowledge him in any way. She struggled to keep her patient still while another female ran around gathering supplies.

  “Cy, help me,” Jes shouted.

  Cy was already halfway to her, giving her the aid of his greater weight and muscle to restrain the individual on the table. As Dex stepped closer, he could see the patient was a shape-shifter. Sucking sounds emanated from the open wound in its chest and blood frothed against Jes’s surgical gloves. The shape-shifter’s features, normally uniform and white, were tinged blue.

  “What happened?”

  “He’s been shot. I’ve found the entry and exit wounds.” Swiftly, she tore open a plastic wrapper of field dressing. “Listen to me,” she said to the shape-shifter. “Breathe out and hold your breath. I need the air to be out of your chest before I seal this wound. Do you understand?”

  The shape-shifter didn’t answer; hell, Dex didn’t even know if he was conscious.

  Jes watched his chest, then flattened the dressing over the wound right after he exhaled and before his chest rose again. The sucking sounds ceased. She nodded to the woman who was assisting her, a werewolf who kept glancing at Dex with a curious expression and… He immediately bristled at the hint of disdain he saw. It was so common, something he almost always saw when he encountered a full-blooded were, but it still bugged him every single time.

  “I have to close the wound.” Jes glanced at Dex. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to be a while. Cy, can you take Dex inside?”

  “Isn’t there someone else who can do this? You look ready to collapse,” Dex asked. He looked at Cy, who shrugged.

  “I’m not medically trained. Are you?”

  Dex knew enough that he could have triaged the chest wound in preparation for a surgeon to take over, but that was about it.

  “I’m fine. I’ll be inside soon,” Jesmina insisted. “Go.”

  Her words were curt and dismissive. Dex frowned at the air of indifference and command she was emanating, but she’d already turned away. He followed Cy outside. His last glimpse was of her swiping at her forehead with her arm and leaving a swath of blood across her face.

  He turned to Cy. “Why don’t you tell me what the hell’s going on? Why am I here?”

  Cy stared stonily at him. “Sorry. No can do. But tell you what. If you can read, you might be able to figure out some of it yourself. You can read, can’t you?”

  Dex answered the man’s sneer with his own. “How about you read this?” he growled just before he punched Cy in the face.

  ***

  Rurik had lost track of time and space. He didn’t know what day it was or what state he was in, or even if he was in the United States anymore. He suspected he wasn’t, given the various languages he’d heard being spoken around him, but his consciousness faded in and out and his body throbbed in protest every time it was invaded by the dark creature manipulating it.

  If he could, he’d have gladly killed Dex Hunt. He wished he’d accomplished the task long ago. That way, the Dark One would have no reason to be going after Dex now and no reason to use Rurik to try and get what it wanted.

  That was the only thing Rurik knew for sure any more. What the Dark One wanted from Dex. It wanted his body. Not just because any body would do. If all the Dark One wanted was a body, he’d be satisfied with Rurik’s. But the Dark One wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d found a way to invade Dex’s immortal body.

  When he’d first heard them talking about Dex as an immortal, Rurik had laughed, but his laughter had choked off really fast, not just because it had angered the Dark One, but because Rurik had finally put two and two together.

  He’d told that bitch of a vampire that Dex’s health had seemed unnatural. That answer had been in response to her specific questions, which he now realized had to have been prompted by the same information the Dark One had.

  Wasn’t it just like Dex Hunt to cause Rurik grief even years after he’d left the Ferals?

  Damn bastard.

  For a moment, Rurik’s anger pushed a surge of adrenaline through his veins and he felt hope. That is, he felt hope until he heard the Dark One laugh eerily inside his head.

  It was feeding off Rurik’s hate for Dex, as well as his own anger, Rurik realized.

  In feeding, it was growing more powerful. Its possession of Rurik’s body expanded and intensified, creeping into the smallest corners of Rurik’s mind until his vision began to black out and he couldn’t recall who he was anymore.

  “Dex,” he managed to gasp out before he lost consciousness completely. He no longer thought of Dex as the enemy, but as a male who’d once ridden and fought alongside him. “Dex,” he muttered. “Beware…the…Demon Tailors.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  After several minutes of giving Dex back as good as he got, Cy eventually pulled away and dabbed at his bloodied lip. “Fuck. Now look what you’ve done,” he groused. “Jes is going to have my hide.” He dragged himself to his feet, walked away, then glanced back at Dex over his shoulder. “Come on.”

  Side aching from where Cy had repeatedly punched him, Dex narrowed his eyes but obligingly followed the other man into the bowels of Jes’s castle. Cy led him past one lavishly appointed room after another before pausing outside another set of solid double doors. “You can wait for her here. If you pay attention, you might even learn a few things.”

  With that parting shot, Cy disappeared.

  Dex opened the doors and stepped into what was clearly Jes’s personal library. Floor to ceiling shelves were filled to bursting with books. A massive trestle table in the center of the room had been strategically placed in front of a large fireplace. Feminine touches—a vase of flowers here, an ornate letter opener there—told him this was likely Jes’s haven. A gilded clock indicated it was h
alf past midnight. Several papers on the desk bore chicken scrawl writing that, if it was indeed hers, amused the hell out of him. It was ugly as sin, completely contrary to how the handwriting of an elegant vampire like Jesmina’s should look. He bet it annoyed the shit out of her, and why didn’t she have a computer somewhere—

  Ah, there it was. A laptop peeking out from a pile of paper and medical journals. Dex frowned as he spotted several picture frames displayed on a table next to the desk. Smack dab in the front was a picture of a smiling Jes with her arms around a broadly grinning Cyrus Mead. It didn’t matter that Jes’s smile looked slightly sad. All he could wonder was whether this was what Cy had wanted him to see.

  Had Cy brought Dex here so Dex would know Jes belonged to another man?

  He wiggled his jaw where Cy had gotten in a particularly good punch.

  Right now, he was really wishing he hadn’t taken it easy on the guy. He should have pulled his knife and sliced the bastard open.

  Dex reached out to slam down the framed picture of Jes with Cyrus, but before he could his gaze caught on a thick book spine just to the right of it. “Jes’s Otherborn Research” it read, along with a date seventy years earlier. The print was blocky and childlike.

  He pulled the book out, lowered himself into an armchair in front of the fireplace, and began reading. It looked like a journal a child might keep, but the handwritten notes—in the same chicken scrawl as the papers on Jes’s desk—used fancy language and seemed to describe not only the biology of random Otherborn, but various medical conditions he’d never heard of.

  Minutes ticked by and Dex became more and more engrossed in what he was reading. When he was done, he selected another book. He was flipping through a third when Jes walked into the library.

  She’d washed up and was dressed in a simple long-sleeved sweater and slacks, her hair tidily swept back into a low ponytail. His eyes narrowed when Cy followed her into the room and affectionately tugged on her hair.

  Dex stood, trying to resist the impulse to pull her away from the other male. He couldn’t believe how strongly connected he felt to her. It was almost as if something supernatural was at work. He’d always had a thing for vampires, and he’d had an exceptionally strong reaction to this one, but now he wanted to run to her, sweep her up in his arms, and race away.