He opened his bloody hand and placed his palm directly over her wounds. She sucked in a breath at the touch, her stomach twisting up into her throat at the agony. Fire burned along her back and stole her breath.
“Damn you.” She shoved him away with weak arms. Already, the blood had stopped dripping down her back.
Rylan stepped back, his all black eyes watching her with such emotion her heart ached. While she watched, he lifted his hand to his face and inhaled the scent of her blood. Then he was gone, circling the back of the vehicle.
Taggert was at her side, buckling her into the seat, cradling her hand in his. When she tried to draw away, he grumbled low in his throat in a not even remotely human sound and tightened his grip.
Unable to focus on him and the pain at the same time, she turned to Rylan when he got in the car. Work. She had to focus on work for fear she’d cry at the way her messed up life was falling apart, taking her friends with it. “What did you find?”
“Nothing. Whoever it was had disappeared. I smelled lightning, burnt hair, and a lot of your blood.” He gave her an accusing glare from the rearview mirror, his reflection didn’t dim its potency. “The scent of whoever was there was so faint, I couldn’t get a lock on them.” He started the car and had it in gear when Jackson opened the door and jumped in.
“No one followed us.” They took off.
Both the men in the front faced straight ahead, their silence more stifling now than on the ride there. The trip home was vague as she wavered between full consciousness and the hazy lure of darkness. She came to herself when the engine rumbled to stop and someone opened her door.
She hadn’t placed a foot on the ground when the front door burst open and Dominic and London were hurrying toward them. “Why the hell didn’t you call?” His words trailed off when he caught sight of her. “What happened?”
Without waiting for the others, he clasped her arm and pulled her to her feet. The muscles in her back protested the abrupt movement. Ribbons of fire shot down her spine and into her legs. His grip flexed painfully on her hands when some of her energy splashed over on him, but he refused to release her.
“Attacked.” She couldn’t say anything more as she battled for breath. The muscles around her ribs protested each inhalation.
“Screw this.” Jackson went to pick her up and found London blocking his way. Jackson was taller, but London had the weight of pure bulk to back him. “Get out of my way.”
“Stop acting like boys.” She didn’t need this now. When the stand-down didn’t break, she debated leaving them to slug it out. With a deep breath, she released Dominic’s hand and took a staggering step toward the combatants. Anger shut out some of the pain, and she relished the feeling, embraced it.
Taggert stepped in front of her, blocking her way.
“Move.” Her quarrel wasn’t with him. She didn’t want to hurt him more than she already had. Some of the energy began to build again, begging to be released. What better way than a fight?
“He’s worried.” He ducked his head a little to meet her gaze straight on, slightly baring his neck. “He has a right to be worried.”
The hot air of her anger deflated a little and that only made her crankier. “Do you guys think we could take this inside? I need to call Scotts, not to mention I desperately need to wash up before heading back out.”
All eyes latched onto her at her statement, stopping the argument dead. With one painful step, then another, she headed toward the house, waiting for the explosion from her troop of overprotective goons. They knew as well as she did that they needed to go back. Something was out there killing. Not to mention the issue of Cassie’s missing informant still hadn’t shown up.
Taggert drew near, and though it shouldn’t, his presence easing the tightness in her chest. His touch was surprisingly comfortable when he scooped her up in his arms.
Skin touched skin.
A hiss escaped him, quickly drowned out by her groan of pain.
He instantly halted and lowered her. Once her feet touched the ground, her knees threatened to buckle, and she clung to his shoulders. Taggert’s arms slipped around her hips, his hands cupping her ass. When she would’ve protested, he nudged her with his chin.
“Wrap your legs around my waist. I’ll get you upstairs.”
Raven hesitated then glanced at Rylan. “You’ll stay?”
He nodded, his face like granite, his chest unmoving, every inch the vampire. She winced to see her blood liberally coating his shirtfront. The drive home had to have been torture. As if he read her thoughts, he turned away. “I’ll make a few phone calls. I’ll see you after your shower.”