He stopped a few feet away from Catty. Kneeling beside her, he noticed her breathing had turned to a pant and her fingers clutching the bandage were covered in blood.
“I won’t die from this. The sword wasn’t silver.” She gave him a small smile.
Werewolves didn’t die from most wounds.
But she was still in agony.
She didn’t deserve that.
“I’m going to pick you up. You are going to have sit in front of me facing backwards. That’s the safest way I can hold you on the bike, okay?”
She gave him a painful smile. “Like something in a movie.”
“Yeah, something like that.” She stifled a moan as he gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bike. He eased on and settled himself with her sitting in his lap facing the back of the bike. She wrapped her legs around his waist.
“This is going to be a long trip back to NOLA.” She moaned as he shifted her closer.
“We’re not going to New Orleans.” He needed to take her somewhere isolated, somewhere they wouldn’t draw the attention of humans.
It was a place he’d visited in the summer as a child. It was a place he never thought he would return to.
But for her… he was willing to risk anything.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Catty tried to tighten her hold on Lucien as he tore down the highway, but her strength was slowly leaving her. The pain was unbearable and all she wanted to do was sleep.
If she ever found Ella again, she was going to rip her spleen out through her mouth.
After Lucien went back to the bike, Ella had fallen to the ground. She’d bent down to help Ella up. The second she was on her feet, the witch had said a few words and Catty found herself flying backwards into a tree. As she struggled to catch her breath, the witch was suddenly in front of her with a sword.
Ella leaned in close and she actually looked a little sad. “I’m sorry, Catty. It won’t kill you— it’s not silver. It’ll hurt like a bitch. But I need your blood to be able to leave this hell I’m stuck in.”
Like lightning, Ella drove the sword through her shoulder and pinned her to the tree like a bug.
White-hot pain tore through her shoulder as she screamed. It had seemed like an eternity before Lucien was there, standing in front of her looking scared to death. She didn’t think it would have hurt any worse to pull the sword out, but she’d been wrong.
“Stupid bitch.”
“What?” Lucien leaned his head closer as he drove down the dark highway.
“I’m going to kill that witch if I ever see her again.”
“You won’t have to. I’ll beat you to it.” He growled and lowered his speed. He made a turn onto a dirt road.
“We can’t be in New Orleans yet.”
“No, we are going somewhere else so you can rest.”
She shook her head against his chest as tears fell down her cheeks. “We don’t have time. We have to get back to New Orleans to stop whoever is doing this horrible thing.”
“We will. We’ll stop it. We will just take another day to do it.” He cradled her close with one arm as he slowed his speed.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace special. Someplace I’ve never taken a woman.”
“Home to Mommy?” She tried to laugh, but it hurt too damn much.
“Actually…”
He hit a rut in the dirt road and pain seared through her body. Nausea welled up inside her stomach. Her head began to swim, and she tried to stay conscious. But it was no use.
Blackness descended upon her and sucked her into delicious oblivion, away from the reality, away from the hurt, away from the pain.
***
“Catty?” Lucien felt her go limp in his arms and he tightened his hold. Her heart beat against his in a slow and steady beat.
The large house in the distance loomed ahead, in all its grandeur. Although it wasn’t his childhood home, it was pretty damn close.
It was his grandparents’ home. After his grandfather retired, he’d built his own mansion. Only this one was hidden on acres and acres of land. His grandfather had prided himself on privacy and made sure to keep his family protected from the prying eyes of humans.
The house was illuminated as he pulled into the paved driveway. He hadn’t expected anyone to be here.
His grandparents had died when he was a teenager, and the house had passed to his parents. As far as he knew, they didn’t come much. But that was years ago and times could have changed.
Time had certainly changed him.
He killed the engine and set the kickstand. Holding Catty tight against his chest, he got off the bike. She stirred but didn’t awaken.
The tall live oaks seem to whisper to each other as the breeze rustled the leaves and settled across the yard. He hurried toward the front door.