The Cursed (League of the Black Swan) (5 page)

“I think I’m going to need help, Miro,” she said, just before her face got all swirly and the sky turned dark. Very dark. Almost fall-on-his-face dark.

Luke blinked rapidly to clear his vision and realized an ogre was moving in on his woman. Every protective instinct in his body went apeshit, and he pushed Rio behind him. Something familiar about the ogre . . . He shook his head, trying to shake off the effects of the venom, but everything in his line of sight started to collapse in on itself like a kaleidoscoping tunnel.

“Must protect you now,” he said, whirling around and scooping Rio up again. He glared a warning at the ogre, called the Shadows, and stepped into them, carrying his precious bundle tightly against his chest.

“
Traversa
,” he whispered, and the Shadows carried them to his office, where the wards on the door and walls recognized his magic. He made it through the door and fell back against it, putting Rio down before the venom overtook his immune system. The walls started melting, and his desk turned into a giant dandelion. He swayed on his feet and took a step with some vague idea of making it to the couch or to Rio.

“They could bottle this stuff,” he told her. “Whoa.”

“You are in very bad shape,” she said, half a smile teasing the edges of her lips. She caught him when he stumbled into her, which brought her lovely face too close to him to resist.

“You are in very bad trouble,” he murmured, as he bent his head down to kiss her. At the first taste of her lips, the world went black around him to the sound of her sweet, sweet voice.

“You idiot.”

When Luke collapsed, Rio dropped her small backpack on the floor and guided him down to the ancient couch, which was the same dark-green-and-brown plaid it had been when she’d last delivered a package there. In fact, not much of anything had changed. Not even Luke. Not really.

She brushed a strand of his silky black hair out of his eyes and took the opportunity to look her fill of him, since he was out cold. He looked exactly the same as the first time she’d met him—but not. A little harder; the lines and angles of his face were more pronounced. A little older, maybe; but then again, no. He never aged, or so she’d heard. Mrs. G once had let slip that she’d known him for more than sixty years.

His shirt was ripped and bloody over his ribs, and sticky smears of his blood were drying on her shirt. She took a deep breath and forced herself to quit staring at him like an idiot and do something useful. She hobbled over to the small bathroom, washed her hands, and found the first-aid kit under the sink. With that and a clean wet towel, she limped back to the couch to clean him up and see if he needed a doctor. Not that he’d agree to go to a hospital, probably, but she knew a friend of a friend who might be willing to come out and help.

She pulled the ottoman over to sit on and unbuttoned his shirt with fingers that barely shook at all, pulling the edges apart over his muscled chest and abdomen. She caught her breath at the wave of heat that swept through her at the sight of all that masculine beauty but shoved her reaction aside to focus on his injury. The gashes from the Grendel’s claws were an angry, puffy red, but they seemed to be closing already, courtesy of Luke’s superior healing powers. She’d heard that he could heal from a gunshot wound overnight. Of course, that was the kind of rumor that made some want to elect him sheriff and made others want to shoot him on sight.

She’d gathered up all of her courage and asked him out for coffee once, wondering if the sparks that flew between them were only in her imagination. He’d shot her down, telling her he didn’t have time for “meaningless flings.”

The sting had dulled over the course of the year, so the memory didn’t slice through her as sharply as it had before. She hadn’t even tried to be social much since then, afraid to risk rejection all over again.

Not good enough. Not wanted.

“Not
now
,” she told herself, impatient with her own stupidity.

Time enough for useless bouts of wounded pride when their lives weren’t in danger. She concentrated on his wounds and cleaned the gashes out as best she could and then liberally smeared antibiotic ointment on them before bandaging them. The stark white of the bandages over his side contrasted sharply with the bronze of his skin and the silky arrow of dark hair that disappeared into the top of his jeans. Rio caught her breath at the sight and couldn’t resist touching his hot, smooth skin. The last thing she’d expected when she’d planned to hire Luke was that she’d have her hands on him within thirty minutes of finding him.

She glanced up and found him watching her, the brilliant blue of his eyes focused all too clearly on her face. She blushed and yanked her hands away, clasping them in her lap.

“I was just cleaning your injury,” she said, trying not to sound defensive.

He glanced down at the bandages, wincing a little when he moved his head. “Thanks. How long was I out?”

“Not even ten minutes. That venom hit you kind of hard, though, maybe you should rest—”

But he was already swinging his legs to the side of the couch and sitting up, the movement causing the muscles in his abdomen to pull tight, and her mind went blank before wondering how long it had been since she’d had sex. Way too long, if her reaction to Luke’s taut abs were anything to go by. Damn. She was all but drooling on the poor man.

“What happened after the venom started working on me?” His voice was grim, and the narrow-eyed look he aimed at her was empty of any emotion or humor, so clearly he couldn’t read her mind. “I remember going fuzzy—oh, shit. Did I really threaten Miro?”

“No, you just growled at him and then grabbed me and did something weird where we seemed to walk through a whirlpool without water, if that makes any sense, and then we were here and you collapsed.” She jumped up off the ottoman and took the used cloths and first-aid kit to the bathroom, more to get away from him than out of any need to clean up.

She reached out mentally, tentative at first and then with a stronger push, but she couldn’t read anything of his thoughts. She’d never been able to do it before, but she’d wondered if the venom would interfere with his shields. Apparently not.

“I’ll have to get him a present. Ogres are touchy,” Luke said. He stood up and pulled off the shredded remains of his shirt and tossed the whole mess in a corner.

“He likes candy,” Rio offered, as she tried not to stare at his back and failed miserably. The broad, muscled expanse was scarred and bruised with old, healed marks and newer, raw-looking ones, and she wondered how much truth there was in the legends about his healing capacity.

“Is that a fresh bullet scar?”

He whirled around and scowled. “Nothing that needs to worry you. I protected you, didn’t I? Did something happen that you’re not telling me?”

He crossed the room in two quick strides and lifted her chin with his fingers, staring down at her with eyes that had gone glacial. “Did they hurt you before I found you? Did they get their filthy hands on you?”

“You’re the only one with his hands on me,” she began hotly, but then she realized what was going on and exhaled slowly. “Luke. I’m fine. Nobody hurt me. Even with the poison in your system, you protected me.”

It was the way he was built. Mrs. G had once gotten a little tipsy on New Zealand wine and told her that Luke was like a warrior of old. She’d touched Rio’s hand and then looked off into the distance, as if seeing a scene from long ago, and spoken so softly that she might have been talking to herself.

“He’s the best version of a warrior. Or maybe a cowboy gunslinger. He has to protect others or it damages something deep in his soul.”

When Rio had asked a question, Mrs. G had shaken her head and changed the subject, but Rio had always wondered about that conversation. Now she was apparently seeing the gunslinger in action.

He backed away, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I needed to know—why are you here?”

“I’m here because you brought me here,” she said slowly, wondering if the venom had completely worn off.

He shot her a look. “I know that. Why were you looking for me? Was it the Grendel?”

“Actually, it was Grendels, plural, but no, not exactly,” she said. “It was their boss, or at least I guess it was their boss. It must have been the same man. No way would I have two major evil villains after me at once, right?”

“Rio,” he said, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe start at the beginning?”

She stared at him, helpless to stop herself. He didn’t even realize how gorgeous he was. Right now, when any other man would be posing and showing off those corded muscles on his arms and his delicious chest, Luke was just impatient for her to get on with it. Tell her story, so he could get rid of her, probably.

Too bad for him. He was stuck with her, at least until they found that child.

“From the beginning? Okay, fine. Today I saw a very evil man, except he wasn’t human, kidnap a human child in broad daylight. She was maybe ten or eleven, and she was terrified, and he was planning to do very horrible things to her. Some kind of demonic ritual, maybe, except he wasn’t a demon. He was Old Magic. Now I need your help to find him and save her—
the end
.”

Luke didn’t ask how she knew what the kidnapper had been planning. He’d let it slip on one of her first deliveries to his office that he was aware of her telepathy. He just watched her for a long moment, until she thought she might scream, but she refused to speak again until he said something.

Anything.

“What kind of big bad keeps a Grendel or two—”

“Three,” she interrupted.

He raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Three Grendels on staff as enforcers? I can’t believe I wouldn’t have heard about him if he’d been around long. There are no secrets in Bordertown.”

“None that people can keep from you, maybe. It seems like everybody has secrets from where I’m standing,” she said. “Also, do you have a shirt? Or maybe two?”

“What?”

“You need a new shirt, and I would like to get out of this one, so I was just thinking, well, do you have a couple of shirts?” By the time she finished, her face felt like it was on fire, and he was grinning.

“I’d be happy to help you out of that shirt,” he said, pushing away from the desk and stalking across the room toward her like he was the predator and she was his prey, and he wanted to eat—
oh.

Oh, no, we’re so not going there.

She backed up until she hit the wall and couldn’t go any farther, but he kept on coming. Her breath caught in her throat at the determined gleam in his eyes, but she found her backbone and held out her hands in the universal “stop” position.

“No, Luke. No, no, no. You don’t get to act all sexy and flirty after you so rudely refused to even have coffee with me. I need your help now. That’s all. There is a little girl who needs us out there, so snap out of it and let’s figure this out.”

He stopped dead in the middle of the room and scrubbed at his eyes with his fists. “I’m sorry. I think that damn venom is still working on me. Most venoms and poisons have zero effect on my system, so I wasn’t careful enough about staying out of range of its claws.”

Rio shook her head, suddenly shaking with exhaustion. “It’s okay. I understand, but we need to figure out what we’re going to do. I just want to try to help that girl, if it’s not too late.”

“If the guy who kidnapped her hasn’t already hauled her into one of the demonic realms,” he pointed out.

“No, I don’t think so. I got the impression he was here in Bordertown—permanently. Just fragments of thoughts; I didn’t really put it together at the time, but . . . I don’t know,” she said, sighing heavily and sinking into his leather chair. “Maybe I’m just crazy. How could I get all that from a few minutes’ contact with his bizarre thought patterns?”

Luke crouched down beside her and put his hand over hers where it rested on the arm of the chair. “You’re not crazy. We’ll figure this out, I promise you.”

She smiled a little, even as she carefully pulled her hand away. “I knew I could count on you. Help me find her, and then I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

Luke’s expression went from warm to wary in half a heartbeat, and his fingers tightened until he held her hand in a firm, unbreakable grip. “Oh, no, Rio. You’re not going anywhere. At least not until we figure out what the League of the Black Swan wants with you.”