The Darkest Kiss (Riley Jenson Guardian #6)(40)

“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.”
“How can you say that when you lost Kellen for the very same reason?”
“Kellen left because he didn’t want to sit at home wondering if each night was going to be the night I didn’t come home. Liander’s accepted that possibility and is willing to live with it.”
“But I’m not. If I commit to him, if we do the moon ceremony, and then something happens to me, he dies. And I don’t want that. I couldn’t live with that.”
“Death isn’t always the end result of the moon bond.” Although I had no proof of that. Ben might have survived the death of his soul mate, but they hadn’t sworn their love to the moon. Maybe that was the difference.
“I don’t care.” He spun around and clomped down the stairs. “I refuse to risk full commitment.”
“But he’s not asking you to risk it, Rhoan. He’s just asking to move in with us and become part of our family. Why is that asking too much?”
“It’s a risk—”
“Life itself is a goddamn risk! As Liander being caught by a serial killer proves.”
He muttered something under his breath. I caught the words “bitch” and “ridiculous,” and smiled. “This bitch is going to kick your ass to kingdom come if you don’t start acting sensibly where Liander is concerned.”
He snorted softly and strode across the living room, snatching an old photograph up and thrusting it in my direction. “This is it.”
I took the photo from him and then looked around. “Where’s the phone? My cell’s in the car.”
He pointed to the left, then crossed his arms, his nostrils flaring. “Why is Quinn here?”
“Because I was getting emotional hits from you, and it was shaking me up so badly I couldn’t drive.” I picked up the receiver and dialed Jack’s number.
“I suppose I should be grateful he couldn’t pass the threshold, or my ass would be history.”
“Too right it would be,” Quinn commented calmly from the doorway. “You’re too old to be acting like a petulant child.”“Christ, first my sister tells me off, then her lover.” He paused. “How come you two are together again? When did that happen?”