Awaken the Darkness Page 21

  Stanislav stared at him, not knowing what to say other than, “You drive.”

  Grunting, Alexei stalked around the front of the car, then halted. A second later, he spun around, closed the distance between them and dragged Stanislav into a rough hug.

  A rush of affection drove Stanislav to hug the man back, though his memory still eluded him.

  “Don’t ever pull that shit again,” Alexei choked out.

  Stanislav met Susan’s eyes over the man’s shoulder and saw her expression soften. “I won’t.”

  Nodding, Alexei released him. Chin down, he avoided their gazes while he stalked back to the driver’s side. “Now get in the fucking car.”

  Lips twitching, Stanislav and Susan obeyed.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What is this place?” Stanislav asked as the road they traveled came to an end at the base of a gravel driveway. Though night had fallen, his preternaturally sharp eyes had no difficulty picking out the quaint one-story home they approached as Alexei followed the brief drive, rocks crunching under the tires. The windows were dark. No light shone on the porch. Only the moon provided faint illumination.

  Alexei brought the car to a halt and cut the engine. “It’s okay. No one knows about it except for me and Dmitry. It’s my private getaway.”

  Stanislav unfolded his long form and exited the vehicle, then turned to open the back door. Susan smiled wearily and placed her hand in his when he offered it.

  Damned if it didn’t make him feel better.

  Her slender fingers no longer shook. The color had returned to her formerly pallid features. And every minute that passed without her demanding they take her home or to Anna’s lent him hope that the evening’s shocking revelations had not turned her away from him.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He nodded, then turned to Alexei. “Explain.” Releasing Susan’s hand, he leaned in and grabbed one of the duffel bags.

  Alexei opened the back door on the opposite side and drew out the other. “I’ve been with you for a long time, Stanislav, and have lived with you ever since I was assigned to be your Second.”

  Susan spoke up. “What exactly is a Second? Because clearly you’re not talking about being his second cousin.”

  Alexei flushed. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I wasn’t sure you could be trusted.”

  She arched a brow, waiting.

  Stanislav bit back a smile as the other man squirmed beneath her regard.

  “I’m Stan’s guard, I guess you could say. There are people who would hunt him if they knew the things he can do, so I watch over him and keep him safe.” He motioned for them to accompany him up onto the porch. “Sort of like Blade’s Whistler.”

  “How long is a long time?” Stanislav asked.

  Alexei found the right key on his ring and unlocked the front door. “What?”

  “You said you’ve guarded me for a long time. How long?”

  “Twenty-seven years.”

  Susan’s eyes widened. “How old were you when you started guarding him?”

  He led them inside. “Twenty-six.”

  Stanislav stared. “You’re fifty-three years old?” He looked like he was thirty, tops.

  Alexei laughed. “I look younger than I am, right?”

  “A lot younger,” Susan professed.

  Alexei shrugged. “Most immortals probably don’t know this, but the Network sends Seth a notice every five years someone has served as a Second. And every five years, Seth pays the Second a visit to heal what damage he can that’s due to aging.”

  “Heal it how?” Susan asked.

  “With his hands,” Alexei told her. “Seth is a very powerful healer. He can’t stop us from aging altogether, but he can extend our lives.” He looked at Stanislav. “And I’m hoping he can restore your memory. It seems like you may have suffered some sort of brain damage. And I know that can be difficult to repair even for Seth. But if anyone can help you remember your past, he can.”

  Maybe so, but Stanislav was nevertheless loathe to invite the other immortal into their presence. They had only met Alexei an hour ago. It seemed foolhardy to fully place his trust in the man so soon.

  Although Stanislav had certainly felt no qualms about putting his trust in Susan. “And this place?” he asked as he took in the small structure they entered.

  Alexei shrugged. “As I said, it’s my little getaway.”

  The place looked like it maxed out at nine hundred square feet and required no tour. Stanislav could see every room and amenity from where he stood in a tidy living room. Small connecting kitchen. Tiny breakfast nook. Miniscule laundry room just big enough for stacked machines. Two bedrooms, each with a small closet. One bathroom between them.

  “If everyone you work with is as trustworthy as you say,” he asked, “why would you need a getaway?”

  Alexei glanced at Susan and hesitated.

  “It’s okay,” Stanislav told him. “You may speak freely in front of her. I trust her implicitly.”

  Susan nodded.

  Alexei sighed. “As I said, I’ve been with you for twenty-seven years. And in that time, I’ve never seen you date.”

  Susan’s eyes widened. No way.

  Stanislav doubted she intended for him to hear that particular thought, but it came through loud and clear. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Why not?” He slid Susan an uneasy glance. “What’s wrong with me?” Surely she must be wondering the same thing. Now that he was no longer emaciated, Stanislav didn’t think he was a bad-looking guy. So why were women not interested in him?

  “Nothing,” Alexei hurried to reassure him. “Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s just that immortal/human relationships never end well, so very few immortals bother to embark upon them.”

  He felt the same dread that slithered through Susan. “Why don’t they end well?” Did the immortals lose control and inadvertently kill their mortal lovers or something?

  “Immortals don’t age,” Alexei said.

  Susan glanced at Stanislav. “At all?”

  He nodded, unsurprised, though he had no past to prove it. “How old am I?” he asked curiously.

  Again, Alexei slid Susan an uneasy look. “Are you sure you want me to…?”

  “How old am I?” he repeated.

  Alexei sighed. “You’re four hundred and forty-three years old.”

  Susan gaped.

  Stanislav had to admit shock struck him, too. Shock and alarm. With all of his other differences, did he really need a four-hundred-year age gap to convince Susan to run—not walk—in the other direction?

  And forgetting over four hundred years of his life was a hell of a lot worse than forgetting thirty.

  Alexei looked at them both. “Humans age. Immortals don’t. It doesn’t take a genius to guess the kind of problems that can create in a relationship. So you don’t date, Stan.”

  “Ever?” Susan asked.

  “Never.”

  Sorrow crept into her dirt- and blood-smudged features. He’s lived without love for over four hundred years?

  Stanislav winced when he caught the thought. Apparently so.

  Alexei broke the heavy silence that followed. “I have never regretted taking this job. I love it and plan to continue doing it for as long as I’m physically able. It can get lonely though.” Looking more and more uncomfortable, he said, “I’m sorry, Susan. I’m trying to put this as delicately as possible. But I do have certain… needs.” He met Stanislav’s dark gaze. “Since being transferred here to North Carolina, we’ve been staying with David. I couldn’t very well take a woman back there and…” He combed a hand through his short hair. “Hell, even when we had our own place, I never took women to it because I thought it would be cruel. With your heightened senses, you would’ve been able to hear every sound we made.” He shrugged. “It just felt like it would be rubbing salt into a wound. So in every city or town we’ve lived in, I’ve gotten a place like this. Small. Out of the way. Completely off the b
ooks and under a different ID so even the Network doesn’t know about it. I didn’t want Chris Reordon to grill every woman I hooked up with to ensure she didn’t learn anything about you.”

  Stanislav found no emotion in Alexei that would indicate subterfuge. “You weren’t exaggerating when you said no one knows about it?”

  He shook his head. “Dmitry does, because he’s used it himself for the same reason. But he’s the only one, and he’s like a brother to us. He would never betray us. The only downside to the place is that I don’t keep weapons in it. I couldn’t risk one of the women I brought here stumbling upon them, so all we have to defend ourselves with is what’s in the duffels. I don’t keep blood here for the same reason, so you’re going to have to take my vein before you go to bed.”

  Susan blanched.

  “No.” Stanislav had already fed in front of her once. He wouldn’t do it again.

  “It’s okay,” Alexei said. “I think the last time you did it was eight or nine years ago. So it won’t infect me.”

  “What won’t infect you?” Susan asked.

  “The virus that gives him all the qualities you’d associate with a vampire,” he told her, then returned his attention to Stanislav. “You have to bite someone multiple times during a short period to infect them. Either that or drain them almost completely, then infuse them with your blood. So I’m good. You haven’t bitten me in years.”

  “No,” he said again.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist,” Alexei responded, implacable. “You’ve suffered multiple gunshot wounds, and I need you to be at full strength in case the bad guys manage to follow us here, although I don’t see how they could.”

  “No.”

  Susan cleared her throat. “You should do it. Your wounds will finish healing if you do, right?”

  He shifted. “I don’t want you to—”

  “Don’t worry about me. Just worry about you. I won’t lie. The whole drinking-blood thing makes me uneasy.”

  “I don’t drink it,” he told her.

  At the same time, Alexei said, “He doesn’t drink it. His fangs behave like needles and siphon the blood directly into his veins.”

  “Oh. Okay. That helps a little,” she admitted.

  Stanislav shook his head. “Nevertheless, I would rather not—”

  “Stan,” she interrupted softly.

  “Yes?”

  “Take off your shirt.”

  Not what he had expected to hear. “What?”

  “Take off your shirt.”

  With great reluctance, he did so.

  Her throat moved in a hard swallow as she examined the many bullet holes he unveiled. None bled. But most wouldn’t finish closing and disappear until he succumbed to a deep, healing sleep. And even then some might not heal completely without another infusion of blood.

  “It isn’t as bad as it looks,” he mumbled.

  “Bullshit,” Alexei countered.

  Stanislav shot him a glare.

  Susan shook her head. “Take his blood.”

  He didn’t want to, not with her watching. His blasted gift had let him feel the shock and revulsion that had filled her when he had fed on his enemy earlier. He really wasn’t up to feeling it again.

  Alexei cleared his throat, drawing Susan’s gaze. “He may be more inclined to do it if you aren’t in the room with us. By all appearances, you’ve been hit with a lot of shocking revelations today. And I can tell he’s worried about you. Would you like a minute a process everything? Maybe take a shower and wash the blood and dirt off?”

  Frowning, she glanced down at her clothes and only then seemed to notice the bloodstains Stanislav had deposited on them. “I don’t have any other clothes.”

  “You can borrow some of mine. They’ll be too big for you but should suffice until I can wash the clothes you’re wearing.” He headed into the larger of the two bedrooms. When he returned, he handed her a neatly folded black T-shirt and a pair of black boxer briefs, then topped that with a black robe that looked as soft and fluffy as a kitten.

  Stanislav arched a brow.

  Alexei shrugged. “Women like it.”

  Thanking him, Susan cast Stanislav one last glance, then strode into the bathroom and closed the door. A faucet squeaked. Water began to pound tile.

  Alexei started rolling back one sleeve. “Who is she?”

  “My savior,” Stanislav answered, his sharp ears catching every shift of clothing as Susan disrobed.

  “She rescued you?”

  He nodded.

  “From where? Were you being held at another mercenary compound? Or in a research facility somewhere?”

  He heard Susan hiss as the water hit her. “Someone buried me in her basement,” he murmured absently, frowning. She was in pain.

  Alexei stilled. “You were buried in her basement?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t remember who put you there?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t her and that she wasn’t involved?”

  Stanislav scowled at him. “Of course I’m sure. I was there long before she bought the house and moved into it. And when four men tried to capture me, she helped me defeat them.”

  Alexei grunted. “How did she find you?”

  “Her dog could hear and smell me. When she caught him digging in the dirt above me, I manipulated her emotions until she felt compelled to discover what he had found.”

  “Do you know how long you were down there?”

  “No. How long have I been missing?”

  “About two and a half years.”

  That stunned the hell out of him. Sure, it had felt like years, but to learn it actually had been… “I was down there for two and a half years?”

  “Unless you were being held somewhere else, then were transferred there shortly before she bought the house.”

  That didn’t sound right to Stanislav. He must have been down there the whole time, yet… “How is that possible?”

  Alexei sighed. “Immortals don’t die when their—or rather your—blood supply gets critically low the way vampires do. Instead, immortals slip into a sort of stasis or state of hibernation.”

  Hibernation? “This is common?”

  Alexei’s face twisted in a slight grimace. “Not really. I mean, as far as I know none of the immortals I’ve met have ever done it. And it’s rare enough that I was only warned about it once when I was training to be a Second.” He started to offer up his wrist, then stopped. “Oh shit. I forgot. You can’t take my vein.”

  Suspicion rose. “Why?”

  “The last time you did, I passed out. Not from blood loss, but from the GHB-like chemical the glands above your fangs release under the pressure of a bite. I need to stay conscious and lucid so I can protect you. I need to stay sharp. So that cancels me out as a donor.”

  Stanislav studied him thoughtfully. Perhaps he should bite him anyway. If the man were unconscious, Stanislav wouldn’t have to worry about being betrayed or double-crossed by him and would be able to relax his guard a little.

  “Don’t even think it,” Alexei warned. “If the fight earlier didn’t make it abundantly clear that you need me at your back, then you’ve lost your common sense along with your memory. Just take Susan’s blood.”

  “I already did, a few days ago.”

  Alexei frowned. “Does she know?”

  “No,” he admitted.

  “Well, it’s too soon to do it again. Would you consider letting me call Dmitry again and have him bring you some—”

  “No.”

  “I told you, he’s—”

  “No.”

  “Hardheaded pain in the ass,” Alexei muttered.

  Amusement diminished some of Stanislav’s concern. “I’m beginning to think you do know me well.”

  Alexei laughed. “Yeah. I know you well, Stan.”

  Susan’s abraded palms stung as she stepped from the shower. Her elbows did, too. The gravel had been annoyingly unfo
rgiving when Alexei had tackled her.

  Her arm hurt even more where the bullet had nicked her. She gave it a look as she dried off and grimaced. Instead of leaving entry and exit wounds, it had sort of carved a gash that still bled sluggishly. She had actually forgotten about it until the hot water hit it. Holy crap, that had hurt. And the throbbing only worsened when she dabbed it with her towel, then clenched her teeth and applied pressure.

  “Susan?” Stanislav called through the door.

  “What?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your breathing changed. It sounded like you were in pain.”

  Silently she cursed. “Just how heightened are your senses?” she groused.

  Alexei laughed.

  Stanislav didn’t. “I’m coming in.”

  “No, you aren’t,” she countered in no-nonsense tones. “I’ll be out in a minute.” No way would she let him make a big deal out of her injury after she had seen the dozen or more bullet holes that had riddled his torso. She would feel like a total wuss.

  It took longer than a minute to finish drying off, then to pull on Alexei’s T-shirt and boxer briefs. Both were big on her. Alexei was six feet tall or thereabouts and built like an NBA player. Susan had to fold the excess elastic waistband horizontally, then roll it vertically a couple of times to keep them from falling down.

  She opted to wrap a smaller towel around her arm before donning the plush robe. The bleeding stopped when she applied pressure but started up again when she moved.

  It felt weird, wearing the clothes of a man she barely knew. Wearing Stanislav’s clothes would’ve been different. Though they weren’t lovers—not outside her dreams anyway—they had spent almost every minute together since she’d found him, and the affection they shared was undeniable, the connection between them weaving them closer together and strengthening by the minute.

  She thought she would enjoy wearing one of Stanislav’s T-shirts—just the shirt, nothing else—and seeing desire light his eyes up like candles.

  Swiping fog from the mirror, she winced at her reflection. On second thought, she doubted her current appearance would spark desire in anyone. The phrase drowned rat came to mind. Even wet, her hair was all over the place.