CHAPTER TWO
Cold. So cold.
Blindingly bright lights illuminated the barren walls of the operating theater and gleamed off the stainless-steel utensils.
Monitors beeped and whirred.
A door opened to the left, then closed with a muffled click.
Whispered conversations coalesced into a rush of intelligible white noise like the ebb and flow of the ocean tide.
Naked and barely conscious, Kamara Yamashito shivered atop a metal stretcher. Tubes and wires connected her to beeping monitors, and a needle pierced the vein in her right forearm. A heavy clamp pinched her left index finger, and an oxygen tube tickled her nostrils.
She drifted, floating somewhere outside of her body, but her mind reeled with memories and dreams, all tangled together into a confusing whirl of activity.
She stood on a beach, looking out over the ocean while her sister sifted through the sand for seashells.
She sat at the small breakfast nook of her childhood home, laughing at her dad’s silly jokes while her mother prepared breakfast at the stove.
She was alone in her dorm room, crying into a bowl of ice cream because Mark Howell had broken her heart.
She crouched behind a trash bin in a dank, filthy alley, and radioed for backup as gunfire echoed around her.
One memory bled into another, then another, around and around until she could barely tell fantasy from reality. Somewhere in a shadowy corner of her mind, she remembered what had happened, where she was, and how she’d come to be there. Those moments of clarity were few and fleeting, but each time those thoughts came, she grasped them tightly, holding on for as long she could before they faded again.
She remembered the moment she had realized nothing would ever be the same. There had been a young woman—a girl, really—and she’d looked so frail and small lying in the hospital bed hooked up to all manner of tubes and wires. At the time, it had been thought that a new drug had hit the streets of New York City, something vile and dangerous like they’d never seen. The next few weeks had proved otherwise, though. It was the beginning of the Purge, and as the PN2 virus spread, so did the fear and desperation of those who had managed to survive.
Kamara had done a lot of things she wasn’t proud of, but she’d done what was necessary to protect those she cared about and keep herself alive. She wasn’t disillusioned about her current predicament, and she’d accepted that she’d likely die in this icy, sterile room that reeked of chemicals. In fact, it surprised her that she’d made it this long.
Blood, wet and sticky, coated the skin on the side of her neck and trickled down over her collarbone. Every minute movement pulled a deep, aching throb from the gaping wound there, and was made unbearably worse each time she swallowed.
A hand came to rest atop her shorn head, fingers gently caressing the stubble that covered her scalp. It felt nice, and her eyelids fluttered.
“She’s waking up,” a woman called, her voice distorted through Kamara’s haze. The female vampire’s face swam into view, and eyes the color of storm clouds stared back at her. “Just relax. Everything is going to be okay.”
She was wrong. In the broad sense, nothing would ever be okay again. In this precise moment, Kamara hoped it would stay that way. Since childhood, she’d been stubborn and willful, determined to see things through to their end, no matter what obstacles stood in her way. This time, however, she’d met her match, and she didn’t know how much more she could endure. Lately, in her rare moments of lucidity, she thought maybe it would be better to just fall asleep and never awaken.
For weeks, she’d alternated between the operating theater and a vast, dark room with rows and rows of red-cushioned chairs. She could never recall many details, but there had been vampires. Sometimes, they looked strange, like all the color had been leached from their skin, and she always heard music, eerie, ominous chords that whispered softly in her ears.
She would gladly take the crushing depression of that dark room over the horror that had been visited on her during the past few days.
“Give her another twenty units,” a male voice instructed, pulling Kamara back into the present. “We’ll begin shortly.”
Turning her head away from the female vampire, Kamara winced as pain shot up her neck and into her temples. She moved her left hand experimentally, pleased to find it free of restraints. The drugs they forced on her kept her only semi-conscious, and her body was too weak to attempt any sort of escape, but she didn’t mean to fight.
A morbid curiosity had plagued her since she’d first wakened. On some level, she knew she’d lost a lot of blood, and she should be afraid, but the fear never came. Maybe it was better that way, but she couldn’t shake the need to touch her injury, to examine it with her fingers and know for herself just how close to death she hovered.
“I wouldn’t do that, my dear.”
Warm fingers encircled her wrist to hold her arm immobile, but it wasn’t the restriction that finally triggered her fear. She recognized that voice. She didn’t know how, or where she’d heard it. She couldn’t put a face to the deep, cool timbre, but the sound of it terrified her.
“I am sorry.” He released her wrist and skimmed his fingertips up and down her forearm. “I got carried away, and you’re just so…fragile.”
Kamara wanted to scream. She wanted to jerk her hand away and rage at him, but the anesthesia had taken hold, and she began to drift again, the thin line between dreams and reality blurring.
“You’ll heal soon.” The male’s voice now sounded muffled and far away, but his words were no less intelligible. “When you wake up, you’ll be much more durable.” He laughed at this, clearly amused by his own cleverness. “Everything will be better, my dear, you’ll see.”
As suddenly as he’d appeared, he was gone, his touch and his voice replaced by peaceful silence and uninterrupted darkness. And there, she dreamed.
It was the same dream, always the same, with only the smallest details changing from night to night. It had started the day she’d left New York, and though she’d revisited the dream hundreds of times, she still couldn’t make sense of it.
Standing in the center of a room flooded with light, the illumination so bright she had to shield her eyes, she heard the click of a doorknob, the soft squeak of hinges, then slow, muffled footsteps coming toward her. A man called her name, his voice resonating from every corner of the white room, his tone melodious and otherworldly. His presence enveloped her with warmth and tranquility, banishing her anxiety, and she clenched her hands at her sides, watching…waiting.
When he finally stepped into view, her breath caught in her throat. Tall, with broad shoulders and tightly sculpted muscles, his fair skin seemed to glow with an inner radiance as he stood before her like a towering god. Golden hair cascaded down his back, the tresses gleaming in the light that surrounded them. His rich brown eyes enraptured her, mesmerized her.
His gaze held hers with intense focus, as if peering right down into her soul. Without a word, he came nearer, gliding toward her until he stood so close should feel the warmth radiating from him. With slow, careful movements, he cradled her jaw, tilting her head up as he bent at the waist.
Kamara closed her eyes and crooked her head to the side, sighing as she leaned into his touch. His skin was so soft, his touch almost reverent, and she wanted to stay there with him forever.
“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms and holding her to his muscled chest. “Stay with me, Kamara. Just stay with me.”
She wanted to answer him, but before she could form the words, everything went dark again, flinging her into another endless abyss.
* * * *
“Everyone know what they’re supposed to do?”
Crouching low at the front of the black inflatable boat they’d lifted from a nearby marina, Nikolai looked up at Luca and sighed. It wasn’t the first time the captain had asked the question, and he doubted it would be the last. Luca was efficient, and he expected the same from his team, but he was making everyone twitchy as hell.
They’d been over the plan a thousand times, and everyone knew it forwards and backwards. If everything went well, they’d be in and out in under four minutes, and no one would die.
Probably.
Maybe.
From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Roux and choked down another sigh. He liked the stubborn female and admired her bravery, but he feared she was walking into a fight she couldn’t win.
On the one hand, the female was smart, fierce, and capable. More than that, she was brave, always eager to do what was right rather than what was easy. Every day, the Revenant risked their lives fighting for what they believed in, and Nikolai didn’t see why Roux should be denied the chance to go to battle for the people she loved.
On the other hand, had she been his mate, he guessed his opinion on the matter would be quite different. Which was why it hadn’t surprised him when Deke had completely lost his shit. In the end, however, he’d lost the battle, and there Roux sat, her gaze fixed straight ahead, her expression determined.
Nikolai had never subscribed to the idea that love made people weak. It did, however, make them vulnerable. For years, he’d longed to find his own mate, to share a uniquely remarkable connection with the one person in all the world meant just for him. Since the Purge, he’d not only surrendered that dream, but he actively hoped against it.
Unlike the rest of the Revenant, he was no soldier. Other than his father’s penchant for doling out cruel punishments for every perceived wrong, Nikolai’s life had been one of privilege. Materially, he had never wanted for anything, and when the world had fallen into chaos, little in his own life had changed. For thirty-four years, he’d gotten everything he wanted with a little charm, a little wit, and a whole lot of money.
As a vampire, he wasn’t without defenses. In fact, he’d say he held a considerable advantage over most humans. Pitted against Coalition soldiers and Revenant guards, however, he was outmatched, and he knew it.
Since escaping St. Louis, he’d spent every free minute training with Deidra or one of the other werewolves. They didn’t hold back, and they never coddled him. In fact, he’d concluded that Deidra rather liked knocking him on his ass—which happened more often than he’d like to admit. Every day, he got a little faster, a little stronger, a little better.
Still, the Revenant risked their lives merely by existing. The Coalition would like nothing more than to see them all exterminated, and many of them had already given their lives for the cause. Death stalked them, and he didn’t know how anyone was supposed to protect a mate from a world hell-bent on killing them all.
Wakes rocked the raft, seesawing them from side to side, and water splashed between the rubber sides and the concrete support column of the bridge above them. Occasionally, the breeze would pick up, creating ripples along the top of the lake and chilling Nikolai where it rushed over his exposed skin. He didn’t envy Deidra or Miles, or their half-mile swim to the banks behind the hotel. Anything that involved water in the middle of January just seemed like a bad idea in general.
It had been two years to the day since human scientists had released the PN2 virus in an attempt to eradicate all the paranormal races. Their fear had made them foolish, reckless, and in the end, they’d ultimately been the ones to raise the very creatures they’d meant to destroy to power.
Nikolai wondered if some semblance of the previous government still existed. Top scientists and eager politicians, holed up in an underground laboratory, desperately working to fix the mess they’d made. Or possibly, finish what they’d started.
“It’s been twenty minutes.” Thea cupped her hand right hand around the illuminated watch face on her left wrist. “They should be there by now. Maybe something went wrong.”
“They’ll make it,” Luca said, his voice quiet but confident. “Patience, Corporal.”
No one spoke as the seconds ticked by, all seven of them sitting tense and silent. Clouds had rolled in from the southwest, blotting out the stars and dimming the moon. The wind died away, and the lake calmed as an eerie hush settled over the lake. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. It felt as if the night itself held its breath.
Luca checked and double checked his gear. Thea clasped her hands together and closed her eyes. Rhys stared straight ahead, his gaze unfocused, perhaps lost in thought or plagued by unwanted memories. Roux huddled close to Deke’s side, her jaw set, her head high. As for Deke, he just watched his mate, likely wishing she was anywhere else right then.
The only one who seemed untroubled by their situation was Lieutenant Lynk Foster. He’d hidden his sleek white hair beneath that black, knit beanie that he currently had pulled down over his eyes. Reclining in the back corner of the raft, he rested his head on the inflated side, his hands folded together across his chest. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be fast asleep, but Nikolai knew better.
Once upon a time, Lynk had been a Warden, a soldier with advanced training assigned to guard the royal families. Specifically, Lynk had been one of several Coalition soldiers designated to protect the Diavolos family. Before the fall of Trinity Grove, Nikolai wouldn’t have considered the enormous shifter a friend, but he’d known of Lynk. They’d spoken on a few occasions, usually about some security threat or a new safety protocol. They didn’t know each other well, but Nikolai was sure of one crucial detail.
Lynk Foster never let his guard down.
So, when the first explosion rocked the night, sending vibration rippling to them half a mile out, it didn’t surprise Nikolai that Lynk was the first to speak.
“That’s our signal. Let’s move.”
Luca pulled the recoil rope on the outboard motor, firing it to life. The water churned behind them and sprayed up over the front of the raft as they sped through the water, reaching the front of the old cinema just as the second explosion detonated, shaking the ground beneath them and shattering the windows of the five-story hotel.
It wasn’t like in the movies. There was no big ball of fire. No roaring flames that engulfed the entirety of the building. Still, the acrid stench of smoke hung heavy in the air, wafting to them from a quarter-mile down the bank. The screams and shouts started, joined by the pounding of booted feet slapping against the paved roads that wound throughout the complex.
“Draw your guns only as a last resort,” Luca instructed them. “We’re ghosts. In and out, and we don’t attract attention.”
By the time the third blast hit, Nikolai and his team had already made it to the entrance of the theater. Just as Trevor had said, only two guards awaited them. Distracted by the commotion going on at the hotel, it had been all too easy to dispatch them and drag them into a small alcove at the side of the front doors. Thea, Rhys, and Lynk circled behind the cinema to deal with the other guards, and while there, had the good fortune to stumble upon two of the four sentries who should have been inside the building.
Just two minutes after they’d come ashore, they all reconvened inside the vast, high-ceilinged lobby. The black and white tiles appeared dull and had begun to chip in places. The cash registers at the concession stand stood dark and dusty, just like the appliances behind the counter. The menu board had been cleared at some point, and now, it showed only a black screen, back-illuminated by white, fluorescent lights.
Whatever they were doing with the humans here, it wasn’t happening in the lobby.
Knowing the other two guards could be anywhere within the sprawling building, they moved quickly through the lobby, sticking close to the outer walls as they hurried around the corner from the concession stand. On their right, they passed a dimly lit room with working arcade games, the machines glowing neon and chiming with whimsical music.
They passed a women’s restroom next, its inner walls painted the ugliest color of yellow Nikolai had ever seen. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they entered a long, wide corridor with a multicolored carpet in a swirling design that had been worn down over the years from moviegoers. Dark stains spotted the lighter patches of the carpet, and even the stringent odor of chemicals couldn’t mask the scent of spilled blood.
Everyone stopped, looking up and down the hallway at the signs over each of the seven showing theaters. So far, they hadn’t encountered the remaining two guards, meaning they were likely in one of those theaters.
They’d only just arrived, and time was already running out to find their friends and make their escape. Taking the time to search all seven rooms was a luxury they didn’t have. They’d come this far, though, and no one would be deterred from their objective.
“Split up,” Luca ordered. “We’ll search these four first,” he added, pointing down the corridor in front of him.
“Six minutes,” Thea informed them, looking at her watch again.
Sean and Nathan Chambers had secured a cargo van much like that of the coyote shifters. It wasn’t so big that it couldn’t make a speedy exit, but at the same time, it was large enough to fit all the Revenant members, plus at least half a dozen more bodies. Nikolai didn’t know the specifics of how the twins meant to get into the compound or reach of the cinema, but he did know that if he and his team weren’t waiting when the van arrived, they’d likely never make it out alive.
“Then let’s hurry.” Luca pointed to Rhys and Thea. “You two take number seven. Deke, you and Roux get six. Lynk, number five. Nik and I will check out the fourth one. Back here in three minutes. Got it?”
Nikolai started to nod, but the rustle of footsteps over the carpet drew his attention behind him. He had just enough time to shove Deke out of the way before gunshots erupted in the corridor. As a unit, they turned toward the threat and fanned out, taking cover behind trash bins and inside doorways. Everyone except Luca.
Drawing his handgun, he stood in the middle of the corridor, took aim, and pulled the trigger. One shot was all it took for the bullet to find its mark and pierce the guard’s skull right between his eyes.
A door at the end of the hall opened, and the last guard stepped out, gun in hand, but upon seeing his comrade, he quickly retreated back into the movie theater.
“I’m on it.” Pulling his weapon from its holster, Lynk jogged down the hall in the pursuit.
Before he’d even reached the theater, bright lights began to strobe across the ceiling and over the walls, glinting rhythmically off the glass of the poster frames that lined the corridor. An alarm blared, the sound shrill and harsh as it reverberated to every corner of the building.
“Shit,” Luca cursed. “Go! Go! Go! Search fast. We’re out of here in three.”
They split up as planned, only Thea and Rhys ducked into theater five instead of seven. Nikolai followed close behind Luca, hurrying toward the door on the right, but he drew up short when an agonizing scream pierced his brain. Stumbling sideways, he rested one hand on the wall and shook his head, but it did little to relieve the building pressure.
“Help! Someone help me!” The screams quieted, fading into wracking sobs. “Please find me. Please don’t leave me.”
Though the voice filtered directly into his mind, he had the strangest sensation that it came from nearby. Without knowing why, without any clear destination, he pushed away from the wall, following the pull he felt to the three theaters at the opposite end of the corridor.
“Nik, where the hell are you going?”
“Get the others,” he called over his shoulder.
The door of theater five burst open, and Thea staggered out into the hallway, her arms wound tightly around Cade’s midsection. The male’s skin was pale and his cheeks hollow, and he looked moments away from death’s door. Every movement seemed to cause him pain, and he struggled to hold his head up as he stumbled along beside Thea.
“Rhys has Duncan.” Thea grunted as she heaved Cade upright. “We didn’t find Kamara, though.”
“That is some seriously fucked up shit,” Rhys said as he joined them, half carrying another male with dark skin and a long scar running down the left side of his face. “This place makes St. Louis look like a day at Disneyland.”
“Cade?” Exiting the theater she’d been searching, Roux bounded down the hall until she reached the male. “Oh, my god, Cade. Can you hear me?” She grabbed his face with both hands and pushed up on her toes. “Cade, talk to me. You’re going to be okay.”
“He will, but our time’s up.” Deke strode down the hall with Lynk right behind them, and neither of them looked very pleased. “We have to go.”
“What? No.” Roux jerked away when he reached for her. “We haven’t found Kamara.”
“I’m sorry, kitten, but we have to go. Now.”
They continued to argue, but Nikolai barely heard them. With every step, the voice in his head grew louder, urging him to hurry his steps toward the last door just before the emergency exit.
“Thirty seconds,” he heard Thea say from behind him, her voice distorted beneath the wail of the siren. “I hate it, too, Roux, but he’s right. We have to go.”
“Nik!” Luca bellowed. “Come on.”
He could no more turn back than he could cut off his own hand. “Go,” he shouted back at them. “I’ll catch up and meet you at the rendezvous point.”
The plan was for Deidra and Miles to take the boat back and meet them on the other side of the bridge, meaning he’d probably have to swim the width of the lake to meet them, but it didn’t matter. He had to know why he was hearing the voice in his head. He needed to know what was in that last theater.
Without waiting for a response, or giving his friends a chance to argue, he jogged the last hundred feet to the theater, ripped the door open, and stopped cold.
It was nothing like he’d expected. Instead of a sloping room filled with cushioned chairs and a giant movie screen, he found a sterile, cold room with barren, white concrete walls, illuminated by harsh, bright lights. Surgical equipment he couldn’t even begin to name covered every flat surface, and a row of hospital beds lined the far wall, separated by thin, blue curtains.
Any staff had since evacuated the room—probably when the gunfire began—and from the looks of things, they’d left in a hurry. Several monitors still beeped, and one of the tables filled with medical tools had been overturned, the utensils scattered through a puddle of still-wet blood.
Crossing the room, he went straight to the only occupied hospital bed on the back wall. Naked and shivering, the female looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes as he approached, but she didn’t move. She looked so small stretched out on the big bed. Dried blood caked her neck and clavicles, the streaks ending at the hollow between her breasts.
Sadness and rage vied for dominance, but Nikolai held his emotions in check, and when he spoke, he kept his voice calm and even.
“Are you Kamara?” he asked as he removed the needle from her arm as quickly and gently as he could. “Is your name Kamara?”
Not that it mattered. Whether she was the female they’d been looking for or not, he wouldn’t just leave her there.
“Yes,” she whispered into his mind. “I’m Kamara. Please, don’t leave me.”
“You’re going to be okay,” he answered aloud as he wrapped the sheet around her nude body and lifted her from the bed. “Stay with me, Kamara. Just stay with me.”
He carried her across the room and through an exit in the back corner, encouraged when the heavy door opened to reveal the lake at the bottom of the hill. Chaos still clung to the night, the sound of frantic voices reaching him from the hotel farther down the bank. A truck engine revved. Tires screeched. A loud crash faded into a metallic hum.
None of this hid the sound of the gun cocking from behind him, though.
Still holding Kamara, Nikolai froze, unable to escape or reach his weapon in time. The shot resonated deep within his bones and made his ears ring, but when his head cleared, he felt no pain.
“Shooting people in the back is bloody rude.” Giving the dead guard a swift kick, Deidra stepped over his prone body as she entered the room. Her hair still dripping with lake water, she shoved her handgun into her waistband and smiled. “Fancy meeting you here, handsome.”
Nikolai had never been so happy to see anyone in his life. “I thought you’d already be halfway across the lake.”
“I should be, but I heard the sirens.” She shoved his arm to get him moving, following half a step behind as they hurried down to the lake. “I leave you idiots alone for two minutes, and look at the trouble you get yourselves into.”
At the bank, Deidra jumped into the waiting raft as Miles started the motor. With a lot of reluctance, Nikolai passed Kamara to the she-wolf so he could climb into the boat as well, but once seated, he reached for her, pulling her back into his arms.
“Is she okay?” Deidra asked, raising her voice to be heard over the roar of the wind as they flew across the top of the lake. “She looks like hell.”
Nikolai rounded his shoulders, using his body to shield the female from as much of the cold as he could. He stroked her pale cheeks, skimmed his fingers over her shorn scalp. His chest constricted, and his heart pounded heavily against his ribcage. She needed his help, but he couldn’t agree with Deidra. To him, Kamara was beautiful.
“She’ll be okay,” he answered, subdued. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Everything okay, Nik?” Miles asked. He cut the engine but continued to steer as they drifted toward the shoreline on the other side of the lake. “You seem a little out of it.”
“Everything’s fine.”
“You know her or something?”
Looking down at the peaceful lines of Kamara’s face, Nikolai clutched her tighter to his chest and shook his head. “Not yet.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Nikolai looked up at the vampire, his head spinning with all the implications of the words he was about to speak. “She’s my mate.”