Chapter Eight
Simon could feel Madison’s anxiety, her despair. He could also hear the fighting taking place outside, sense the presence of more than a dozen men.
Furious at his body’s inability to move, Simon had no choice but to lay there experiencing Madison’s helplessness and rage at the situation.
Why the hell had she come after him? He was a vampire. And not just any vampire, but an old one who’d been around long enough to acquire the strength of an elder. Besides, he’d known what he was doing when he left the compound. He also knew that Svetlana’s men wouldn’t attempt to move him during the daylight hours. She would have made sure of it.
A round of gunfire erupted somewhere on the grounds, drawing Simon out of his reflective state. He strained to open his eyes to no avail. The sun had come up, and with it, the deep sleep of a vampire.
Though Simon could hear what went on around him, he remained powerless to do anything. Madison, run! his mind screamed, listening to the rapid beating of her heart.
The distinct sound of a magazine being thrust into a weapon could be heard over the gunfire taking place above ground. Madison was preparing to fight.
He suddenly realized she headed for the stairs. He could hear the soles of her boots, thumping on the floor as she stormed toward the heavy iron door. It slammed shut behind her.
* * * *
Simon wasn’t sure how much time had passed with him lying in a helpless pool of rage before he realized the shooting had stopped.
The door was thrown open once more. He stiffened, attempting to identify the person who’d breached his lair. Madison.
He could hear her heavy breathing as she scurried about his room, obviously in search of something. He wanted to call out to her, to rise up and shield her from the danger he felt in their midst.
Damn his comatose state. It would be hours before the sun went down.
A string of curses left Madison’s lips and she disappeared up the stairs once more.
The smell of blood drifted down into Simon’s room, swirling around him in a fog of hunger that ripped at his insides. But it wasn’t Madison’s blood he scented. No, this belonged to something…other.
Straining to gauge the situation upstairs, Simon fought to stay alert, but the steady rising of the sun drained him of consciousness and sleep eventually overtook him.
* * * *
Madison’s blood-soaked hands slipped free of their hold as she attempted to drag Sawyer’s massive body inside the house.
She scanned the trees in the distance, wiped her bloodied hands on her jeans, and gripped Sawyer’s wrists once more.
With a mighty heave, she managed to move him a few inches. Her breath punched in and out of her chest, and her muscles shook from the strain of dragging him over the threshold. But she’d be damned if she would leave Sawyer outside—dead or not.
Once his feet cleared the doorway, she slammed it shut and threw the bolt home. Not that a lock would stop an invasion, but it might buy her some time.
Madison was fairly certain she and Sawyer had taken out the army of men that had attacked them, but not before one emptied a volley of bullets into Sawyer’s body. Madison also knew that it was only a matter of time before more men showed up to finish them off.
Locking her teeth in determination, Madison continued to drag Sawyer’s great weight, inch by agonizing inch, into the kitchen and eventually…the pantry.
She lowered the shifter’s arms to the floor, ran down the stairs that lead into Simon’s sleeping quarters, and grabbed a dark, chocolate rug.
Hurrying back up the stairs, she laid the soft rug at the top of the landing, wedged part of it under Sawyer’s massive shoulders, and allowed the rest of its chocolaty softness to drape down the steps.
“This better work,” she whispered, placing her hands beneath his arms. She pulled with everything she had until Sawyer’s upper body rested on the rug.
Scaling back to the bottom of the rug, Madison gripped it in both hands, locked her legs and heaved once more.
Sawyer’s giant form began to move slowly at first, until Madison had to jump to the side or be mowed down as his body picked up momentum. He landed with a thunk on the carpet below.
Madison ran back up the stairs and pulled the iron door closed. She hurried to her duffle bag, retrieved two more handguns, and checked the magazines. Fully loaded.
Stuffing both weapons into the waistband of her jeans, she knelt down next to Sawyer and laid two fingers against his throat. His pulse was faint, but he had one. “You’re going to be alright, Sawyer.”
With a determined breath, Madison jumped to her feet and pulled a knife from her boot. She ran into the bathroom, grabbed several towels, and returned to Sawyer’s side.
Slicing his shirt down the middle, she peeled it open to reveal six bullet holes in his torso.
The smell of burning flesh hit her full on in the face, leaving no doubt the bullets used were silver. As was her knife, she thought, laying it aside to scan the room for something else she could use.
Madison ran back into the bathroom, jerking open drawers and cabinets when her gaze landed on the mirror above the sink.
She ripped the mirror from the wall, slamming it against the corner of the countertop. It shattered on the floor at her feet.
Carefully sifting through the shards of glass, Madison found one that would hopefully do the trick.
She quickly returned to Sawyer’s side, kneeling down next to him. “This is going to hurt like hell,” she whispered, her voice wobbly with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”