BloodSworn (15 page)

That was the crux of the problem.

“Doesn’t her showing up here seem too convenient?”

Victor straightened, his eyes alert. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think she was sent here for a reason?” Part of him dreaded
the answer, but the part south of his waist was just glad to have her near.

One thing he knew for sure…Trina was in trouble. Her
secrets set her at odds with both the vampire and witch nations. What did her
secrets mean for the pack? Even though he was desperate for answers, he held
himself back from seeking her out until he got his lust under control.

He couldn’t risk doing something stupid…like fall for her.

“I’ll admit that I’m not sure of her motives, but if she is
here for some other purpose, it is her own. She’s too smart for someone to use
her and too soft to willingly hurt the pack.”

Victor’s answer should’ve relieved him.

It didn’t.

It left his intense reaction to her unexplained. It couldn’t
be natural, but he wasn’t able to detect any spell or uncover any reason for
her to target him.

 
Chapter Seventeen

T
rina
watched Merrick stalk out of the room, taking all the warmth with him. Weston waited
patiently in silence, and it took her precious seconds to find enough brain
matter to gather her thoughts.

But where the hell could she go? She wanted to hide in the
protection of Merrick’s room, but that meant going to the third floor.

The same floor as the witches.

No way.

Not happening.

If she so much as sneezed wrong, they would be on her.

She needed to keep busy, and what better way than to dig
into the case of the comatose shifters. Magic swirled heavily in the air and
clung to her. She rubbed her arms and the static electricity was so strong it
felt like she was pulling each hair out by the follicle.

“Can you sneak me into the lab?”

Weston didn’t pace, didn’t even twitch as if disturbed by
the magic as well. Trina wondered if the others knew of his past, but from the
way Weston stood, his careful attention to those around him, she would guess
not.

Without questioning her, like he wanted to leave just as
much, he nodded and turned on his heel. He shared a quick word with two lean
shifters who’d lingered in the hallway, and they disappeared in a blur at a
fast run.

Trina wanted to open her senses to check for danger, but couldn’t
risk her probe being spotted. There was way too muh magic around them already.
Any more would raise suspicions.

Weston took off down a narrow hallway that she hadn’t
noticed before. The place was like a rabbit warren, and she had a feeling it
was set up that way for the unwary.

Someone like her.

She followed the broad shoulders of the man in front of her,
part of her wondering if she’d made a tactical error in coming here. In less
than a day, both vampires and witches had stopped by.

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

She wanted to run, needed to run, but knew it would be the
wrong choice. Instead, she curled her fingers into fists, took a deep breath and
locked herself down tight until all the magic whirling around her faded.

The lack of magic made her stomach pitch with vertigo. The heat
in the hallway cooled. The near painful static dissipated. Tension eased out of
Weston’s body, and he shot her a brief glance of gratitude.

But not enough that he’d forget the fight she’d started,
even unintentionally, in the mess hall. What had she been thinking to touch magic
in a room full of shifters? First rule of magic was to be in control at all
times.

Not only would the men blame her for the extra training,
Weston was in trouble because she hadn’t been able to move out of the way fast
enough.

Merrick blamed him.

And Weston blamed her.

Swell.

Worry churned in her gut at leaving Merrick alone with the witches.
Or that should have been what was on her mind. But it was the almost-kiss that
hummed at the back of her thoughts. Not being kissed was worse than being kissed.
At least if he kissed her, she could put the experience behind her. Instead,
she was left wondering and aching.

All hot and bothered and desperate for a distraction, she
pulled the notes out of her bag and scanned her slanted handwriting as they
walked. She wasn’t quite aware they’d arrived in the labs until Weston held the
door open for her.

“Thanks.”

He nodded to the desk and chair, and Trina dutifully sat. Time
disappeared. Someone brought her food, which tasted cold when she got around to
eating. No matter how much she studied the blood samples, she couldn’t discern
a pattern.

She sorted the names by breed and then compared samples to
those struck down with CreedMark. She’d love a DNA smear of each different
shifter, but she had nothing to compare the results to. The equipment here could
only get her so far. She needed scans, blood smears, cultures, CBC and more.

She flipped through her notes, noticing an anomaly, a virus
located in the shifter population. It was something akin to chickenpox, a herpes
virus that almost everyone carried.

She nearly dismissed it.

Until she noticed the barely discernible pattern.

Though the shifters had the virus in their system, most of
them had a dormant version.

A higher quantity of the virus was located in all the
comatose patients.

The same level Merrick carried.

The virus wasn’t anything secretive; nearly ninety percent
of the human population carried it and suffered no side effects.

But the shifter immune system didn’t react the way it
should. Shifters weren’t able to create enough antibodies to suppress the virus.
They needed a vaccine, an inoculation, to prevent further spread. 

Viruses do not react to antibiotics, so without help, once the
virus became active, it would continue to build in their system until they
succumbed. But what set the virus into motion?

Goose bumps raced up her arms as a deed chill entered the
room. Her breathe clouded the air. The reaction was so sudden, so unexpected, it
paralyzed her.

The slide she held slipped, and she grabbed for it reflexively.
Her mind screamed at her to stop, she knew better than to reach for it, but couldn’t
recall her action. The glass cut through her glove, nicking the soft pad of her
finger.

“Damn it.” Trina snapped off the gloves, grabbed a rag and
put pressure on the cut.

The slide fell to the table with a clatter as she scanned
the room. She inhaled, but detected nothing unusual.

No threat.

But her magic had never been wrong before.

Stupid! She would’ve never been so careless had she been on
her own. She’d relaxed around Merrick, and she couldn’t afford that if she
wanted to stay alive.

She tipped her head slightly and studied the room again, surprised
to find herself and Weston all alone. She stood, careful not to make a sound.
When Weston straightened from the wall in one smooth move, she held a finger up
to her lips to indicate silence then pointed to the door.

Weston, bless him, nodded in understanding. He skirted the
room until he stood near the entrance, his back against the wall.

Part of her anxiety eased, but not the taste of danger. If
anything, the threat thickened. Coldness seeped down her throat, the air burning
until her chest felt tight. She stared at the door as if she looked long
enough, she’d be able to see through the metal. She retreated a step then
stopped, refusing to be chased away.

Trina groped for her blade, but encountered only air. Her
gaze flew to the desk across the room where she saw the edge of the pommel peeking
out of her bag.

A stupid mistake.

And now she would pay for it.

She’d never felt so defenseless.

She debated crossing the room, but Weston saw her intent and
shook his head. That left her only one way to protect herself.

Magic.

If she allowed herself that luxury, she’d have no choice but
to leave the Den. Swallowing hard, she lightened the pressure on the rag,
feeling vaguely nauseous at the thought of not seeing Merrick again.

Magic swirled in the air as if summoned by the fresh blood.
She resisted the pull, almost successfully, but a tiny bit of magic settled
over her.

Weston gave a nod of his head and pointed her to the desk.
Pretending nothing was out of the ordinary, Trina settled back down and slid
the contaminated slide under the microscope with shaky fingers.

She peered through the lenses with only half a mind, so it
took her a few seconds to recognize the change. Her blood appeared to be acting
as an antibody to the virus. She adjusted the settings and increased the
magnification.

No, it wasn’t her blood alone. It was her blood and the
magic coating it.

She wanted to study the slide closer, but the dropping
temperature caused her eyes to tear. With every blink, they burned. She
persisted, unwilling to be distracted from the discovery that could change
everything for the shifters. As her cut healed and the magic faded, it stole
the results as well.

The danger became more of an annoyance.

Just when she expected her killer to burst through the door,
the temperature climbed back to normal. The abrupt change stung her skin like a
flash of frostbite. She sat straighter and turned to Weston, excitement about
her find made her dismiss the recent threat as unimportant.

The doors flew open.

Weston’s gun pulled free from the holster almost faster than
she could track. The revolver rested comfortably in a two-handed pose that
looked second nature to him.

At the end of the barrel was Merrick.

Trina sucked in a startled breath.

Merrick and Victor froze just inside the door. That was
twice in one day that her senses had picked out a threat and both times Merrick
was near.

Could he mean her harm?

Were her powers trying to warn her that if it came to his
people or her, Merrick would give her up in an instant?

The alternative was just as unpalatable.

That he planned to betray her.

“Weston.”

The man slowly lowered his weapon, but remained alert. “Did
you come across anyone on your way here?”

“No one.” Merrick narrowed his eyes and turned to her, his
gaze studying her with an unnerving intensity.

Weston slipped around the men and scanned the empty hallway,
scenting the air. When he ducked back into the room, he only shook his head.
“Too many scents to pick out a more recent one.”

Merrick’s strides quickly closed the distance between them,
and he grabbed her wrist. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, the spit gone from her mouth at his touch. If
anything, each time he came near, her reaction to him grew devastatingly worse.
It terrified her and made her want things she couldn’t have, especially not
with him. Her heart ached with the knowledge that she would have to let him go
before she’d ever had him.

“What happened?”

She pulled away and crossed her arms, but the distance did
little good when his wild musk only followed her. “Someone was out there.”

Merrick turned toward Victor. “The witches?”

He shook his head. “They were escorted directly to the
gates.”

“The boy?”

Trina flinched at Merrick’s sharp question. “Boy?”

“A Familiarian. Temporary only. I want you to keep your
distance from him until I can figure out how to get rid of him.” Merrick’s
request came out more of a demand. “He should be down for the night.”

“Down for the night? What time is it?” Trina rushed toward
her desk, haphazardly shoving in her scattered belongings, trying to locate a
clock in the room. She had the perfect excuse to get out of there and clear her
head. “I’m going to be late.”

“Late?”

Trina nodded distractedly. “For work.”

“No.”

“No?” Trina didn’t stop, but scooped up her bag and headed
toward the door.

Only to find three men in her way.

“It’s too dangerous. You can’t go out alone.”

“Alone?” She jerked her head sharply to Weston. “That’s why
you assigned me Weston and his guards, isn’t it?”

“There are both vampires and witches wandering the city, searching
for something. Why do I have a feeling that what they are searching for isn’t a
what but a who?”

His guess was so damn close to the truth, she pursed her
lips. “How am I any safer here than out there with both witches and vampires dropping
in willy-nilly?”

Merrick crossed his arms. “They’ve been here and gone. They
won’t return. You’re safe. That’s different outside of these walls.”

Her temper rose at his attitude, like he had any input in
her decision. “You also said I would not be a prisoner.”

The big hulk leaned over until his face was close to hers. “You
will not run because you’re scared.”

Not to be distracted, Trina shoved him back, but the bastard
didn’t even move an inch. Damn shifters.