The Darkest Kiss

"Only if you catch them at night. They're impossible to kill during the day."



Great. Just great. "God, I hope something hasn't happened to Liander."



Quinn took one hand from the wheel and reached across to squeeze my knee. His hands were warm against my skin, his touch comforting - even if it didn't ease the sick fear sitting like a lump in my stomach.



"Liander's ex-military. He can fight. He'll be okay."



I licked my lips and looked away from the caring in his eyes. Not because I didn't want to see it, but because I was trying to be strong and any sort of understanding and caring right now just might make me cry.



"I'm a guardian," I said softly, "and this thing almost whipped my ass."



"Because you weren't expecting it - "



"Liander mightn't be, either." My one hope was the fact that I did warn him to be careful. Please, please, have been careful, Liander.



Quinn swung into Bangalore Road so fast the tires squealed and the smell of burned rubber briefly invaded the car.



"Be careful of the speed bumps," I said, just a second too late. The car went flying across the first one and came crashing down on its nose.



"Thanks for the warning." Quinn's voice was dry, but he didn't ease the speed perceptibly until we reached the next bump.



God, we were close, so close...part of me wanted to get out and run, to just get there and know. My stomach was tying itself up into knots and sweat was beginning to trickle down my spine. I didn't think I'd ever been this afraid of anything else in my life.



We rounded the corner and Liander's street came into view. "Park over there." I pointed to the parking bays on the right of the road as my gaze traveled down the line of cars there.



Rhoan was already here, and he'd left the car in such a hurry the driver's door was still open and the keys were in the ignition.



Oh God, oh God...



Quinn pulled in to one of the free parking spots. The car had barely stopped when I scrambled out and ran, the sound of my shoe heels hitting the road surface echoing across the silence of the still-sleeping night.



There were no lights on in Liander's three-story terrace house, nothing to indicate there was anything wrong. The front door was open, though - and while it wasn't busted down or damaged in any way, that wasn't a good sign. Liander was too security conscious to leave it like that. And I doubted Rhoan would have left it open. If the door had been closed when he'd gotten here, he probably would have busted it down in his anxiety to see what the problem was.



I would have if the situation had been reversed.



I ran through the gate and up the steps. Quinn was a warm, dark presence behind me, but as I ran through the doorway, he stopped.



I twisted around to look at him. He grimaced. "Liander's never invited me in, so I can't cross the threshold," he said. "But go find your brother. I'm here if you need anything."



"How would the bhuta have crossed it? I sure as hell can't imagine Liander inviting him in."



"He didn't need to. Bhutas don't operate under the restrictions that hamper most vampires."



"More fucking wonderful news." I spun and continued on into the darkness.



There was no sound in the house. The scent of roast lamb and spicy vegetables lingered on the air - evidence of the dinner Liander had planned. His scent, soft and masculine, filled the house. Rhoan's warm spices and leather scent was absent, but I could feel the heat of his presence. He was upstairs.



I grabbed the handrail and began to climb. My footsteps made little sound against the thick carpet, but it wouldn't matter. Rhoan would know I was here, the same way I knew he was here.



I reached the first floor - the one that held the bedroom. The silence seemed to get thicker, and while the air still held the rich scent of cooking and Liander, something else began to invade it.



Fear.



Blood.



Energy caressed my mind, a tingling of warmth that stirred the fibers of my soul, intimate in a way that went beyond touch, beyond sex. Quinn, pushing lightly at my shields, wanting to talk to me, wanting me to open the psi-door we'd developed as a means of communication.



I dropped several layers of shields and said, Nothing yet. Rhoan's on the top floor, but I have no idea where Liander is. I hesitated, then added, I can smell blood.



So can I. There's not a lot of it, though, so that is at least one good thing. But there is only one heartbeat on the top floor. If Rhoan is up there, then it has to be his.



Then where the hell is Liander?



I don't know. Just be careful. The anger I can feel is fearsome.



He's my brother, Quinn. He's not going to hurt me.



Being blood kin doesn't always protect you. Not when there's this level of fear involved.



I licked my lips and climbed to the next floor. This one was basically one huge open area that Liander used for an office area, and it was wrapped in darkness just like the lower floors.



And while there was no sound, the smell of anger and fear thickened, and it was all twined up in Rhoan's leathery scent.



"Rhoan?" I said softly, pausing briefly on the top step and looking around.



"He's gone. We had an argument, and now he's gone."



The voice that rose out of the darkness was a frail shadow of its normal self. Fear lashed at me, thicker and stronger than before.



"What do you mean by gone?" I stepped into the room, then stopped. Moonlight filtered in through the windows at either end of the large room, lending enough brightness to highlight the smashed furniture, scattered paperwork, and the blood splattered across the wall.



Oh God, oh God...



I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Liander couldn't be dead. Rhoan wouldn't be talking if he were. The shock of a soul mate's death often left the living partner in a catatonic state - something that Ben had basically confirmed when he talked about the death of his mate.



I took another few steps forward, and finally saw Rhoan. He was kneeling near what used to be Liander's main desk, though now it was little more than splintered remains. Evidence to the fact that he really had put up a major fight. But he was fighting something far stronger, far faster, than him. Something that didn't even operate under the normal rules governing vampires.



He'd lost, but he wasn't dead. That was something to hold on to, something to work with, at least.



I walked closer, and saw that Rhoan was hugging something to his chest. Something that was white, but stained dark in patches. Patches that smelled a whole lot like blood.



No, no, no, I thought, and took a deep shuddery breath to calm the ever-rising fear.



"Rhoan," I said. "He's not dead. We need to get out there and find him."



He finally looked at me. His gray eyes were wide and shocked, filled with a pain that went soul-deep. "He's hurt. He's dying."



"But he's not dead." I forced a sharpness into my voice. I needed to get past the shock, the hurt, and the guilt; needed to goad him into action. "Liander wouldn't be sitting there hugging a bloodied shirt if the situation were reversed. You're the fucking guardian. Start acting like it!"



He surged to his feet and threw the bloodied shirt at me. "Smell that! Feel it! That's his blood on the shirt. His fear! Whatever came for him, he couldn't handle it alone. And he was military-trained." He shoved a hand through his thick, red hair, then spun away. "I wasn't here, Riley! I should have been and I wasn't."



I caught the shirt one-handed. The blood was thick and sticky to the touch, an indication that it wasn't very old. And the smell of sweat and fear lingered - telling signs, considering I'd never known Liander to be afraid of any physical threat.



I tossed the shirt on the tipped-over chair and said, "This is no time for recriminations, Rhoan. He's alive. Let's start from there and try to find him."



"I can't." The words were torn from him. "I can feel he's in trouble, I know he's hurt, but I can't feel where he is. It's not like you and me."



"Then we find him the old-fashioned way - through good old-fashioned detective work."



"How? We don't even know who or what did this to him."



"Actually, we do."



He swung around to face me, and the sheer fury in his eyes was knee-quaking.



Be careful, Riley. He's not thinking straight right now and he's looking for something - or someone - to take his anger out on.



Tell me about it. I held up my hands - a useless gesture if he actually decided to attack. "One of the cases I'm investigating involves what Quinn tells me is a bhuta - a vampire with no physical body in the daytime."



"What has this got to do with Liander's disappearance?" His voice was flat and cold, and his eyes had gone from resembling anything human to something that only saw death. Only wanted death.



The look of a guardian. The look of a killer.



I'd only seen it a couple of times, and it certainly wasn't something I'd ever expected to see aimed my way.



I raised my chin a little and met his gaze defiantly. Perhaps not the best move when facing a wolf on the edge of madness, but I couldn't afford to back down, either. If he smelled or saw any sort of weakness in his current state, he might just attack anyway.



"I'm not entirely sure how Liander's involved, but Aron Young - the bhuta in question - seems to be intent on tracking down and killing anyone who was in the same class as him in tenth grade."



"And Liander was?"



"Yes. I did tell him to be careful, Rhoan, but I really didn't think he'd be in danger - "



I didn't get any further and I never even saw the punch. One moment I was standing there, the next I was flying across the room. I hit the wall with enough force to knock a hole into it, then slithered to the floor.



I felt him move: a furious force coming straight at me. Battling stars and the need to throw up, I flung myself sideways, grasping the leg of a nearby shattered chair, then swung with all my might.



The blow hit him just below the left knee. There was an almighty crack as the chair leg broke, but the force of the blow knocked him off his feet and onto his back. I grabbed another chair leg then scrambled to my feet, sniffing back the blood beginning to run from my nose as I jumped onto his stomach, pinning his arms with my knees and thrusting the chair leg under his chin.



"Bitch," he muttered, his eyes still glazed and furious, his body bucking like a bronco.



"Enough," I yelled, and pressed the leg a little harder against his neck. He was wheezing, struggling to breathe, but I didn't let up the pressure. I couldn't when he was in this frame of mind. He wasn't even seeing me. He wasn't seeing anyone or anything except Liander lying bloody and hurt somewhere.



"Rhoan, look at me. This is stupid - we need to find Liander, not fight."



He still wasn't listening, too consumed by the grief wrapping around him. He continued to struggle, forcing me to grip tighter with my legs to even stay on top of him.



Blood dripped from my nose, splattering across his face and lips. He licked automatically, and suddenly his movements stopped.



"You're bleeding," he said, as the coldness began to seep from his eyes.



"Well, I fucking wonder why?" I swiped at my nose with an arm. "Are you going to hit me again? Or are you finally over your little hissy fit and ready to do something useful?"



"I didn't mean - " He stopped. We both knew he did mean. "I'm sorry."



"So you fucking should be." I tossed the chair leg aside and got up. "You might want to shift shape. I think I did some damage to your leg."



"Yeah," he said, wincing as he tried to move it. He shifted shape, lying there in wolf form for several seconds before changing back to human form. He climbed to his feet and grimaced. "Better, but not great."



I couldn't feel sorry for him. I might understand why he'd lashed out, but that didn't mean he was getting any sympathy. Especially when my jaw was aching and my nose was throbbing.



"First things first," I said. "We need to find the old school photo Liander was going to give me, and check all the names on it. We need to know if it's just Liander he's snatched, or whether he's taken them all."



"That's downstairs on the coffee table." He spun and headed for the stairs. The anger still bubbled in him, thick and strong, but at least it now had direction. "He was showing me before we had our argument."



I followed him down. "What the hell were you arguing about this time?"



"He wanted to move in with us."



"So?"



He looked over his shoulder. "You knew?"



"He asked for my permission first." I raised a hand to my jaw, massaging it lightly. It hurt to talk, but it didn't feel like anything was broken. Maybe he'd pulled his punch at the last moment. "Don't tell me that's what you argued about."



"I don't know if I'm ready for that yet."



"You're never ready for anything he wants, Rhoan." I hesitated, then added harshly, "And now you may very well not have to worry about it ever again."



He stopped and swung around violently. "That's unfair - "



"No, what you're doing to him is unfair. He's your soul mate, Rhoan. Dammit, why won't you just start treating him like it?"



"Because of this! Because of things like this!"



I looked at him incredulously. "Why has him being kidnapped got anything to do with your relationship?"



"It's what could happen to him. I'm a guardian - "



"That's just a fucking excuse, Rhoan, and you know it."