Lucas (Vampires in America #6)

Lucas (Vampires in America #6) Page 44

Her heart twisted in her chest, but she couldn’t say the words. Not even jokingly. They were too close to a truth she didn’t want to acknowledge. “Please don’t die,” she whispered instead.

“I’m not going to die, a cuisle,” he said, letting his Irish lilt roll through the words. “I’ve still got to get you unbuttoned.”

“But how can you heal broken bones like this without—”

His golden eyes opened again, and she could read the pain in them, even as he spoke clearly. “You need to understand, Kathryn. The vampire symbiote doesn’t care that my legs are trapped under a huge, fucking pile of rocks. It just wants them working again, and it’s taking all of the healing power my body and blood possess to focus on that one task.”

“What does that mean?”

“Give me enough time, and I’ll move this damned pile of trash off my legs. But then the bones will want to start healing all over again, because they’re still under pressure right now, and not even the symbiote can make them straight and sound.”

“Oh, God. Lucas,” she breathed.

“Hold my hand,” he said, his eyes closing once more. “Distract me. Tell me what happened after your parents died.”

Kathryn stared at him in the dim glow of her small flashlight, searching his face for any sign that he was manipulating her, using their dire predicament to get her to open up to him, to tell him something personal.

But his face was pale, even for him, and there were lines of pain creasing the corners of his closed eyes. His breathing was strained, and she thought about how hard it must be for him to breathe, how painful to lie there, feeling his own bones healing, and all the while knowing he’d have to go through it all over again once he was freed.

“What makes you think my parents are dead?” she asked, to get him thinking about something, anything else.

“It’s the way you relate to your brother, the way you talk about him. It’s more like a parent than a sibling. Plus all this time we’ve been looking for him, you’ve never once mentioned a mother or father. I’m guessing you were very young when they died. Maybe someone stepped in, a grandparent, an aunt or uncle, but you were older than your brother, and you felt responsible for him anyway.”

He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t look at her, but she could feel him waiting for her response. Her stomach roiled at the thought of baring her most painful moments, her private history. But he’d told her his story, a life much harder than her own had been, despite her losses.

“My mother died when Daniel was two,” she began. “I was six. My father is still alive.”

“Ah. But neither of you are close to him.”

“He raised us alone. My grandparents—the ones with the ranch—offered to have us live with them, and my father could come out every weekend and be with us. He said no. We were his kids, and he wanted us with him. But he still had to work, of course. We had babysitters, but I’d already been taking care of my brother almost since he was born. My mom was diagnosed with cancer just before she gave birth, and she started treatments right after.

My earliest memory is my father telling me the day my brother was born that I had to help my mom with the new baby because she was sick. They came home with Daniel, and I remember looking at him and thinking he was my responsibility now. When I was four years old, I already knew how to put a bottle together for my brother, how to heat it in the microwave before putting the cap on. I changed his diaper, although probably not well, and I rocked him to sleep. I was the one he wanted when he cried, not one of our parents. When he was a year old, I came home from my first day of kindergarten, and he was so happy to see me he took his very first steps. To me.”

“And how did your father take all of this?”

“It was hard on him. My mom was sick for two years before she died, and I think it was actually easier for him after that. He loved us, but his job was an escape from everything. I can’t blame him for that. He did the best he could, and I’m grateful. He could have walked away when my grandmother offered, or pawned us off on my mom’s sister, but he didn’t.”

“But he’s still alive. So where is he now?”

“He remarried a few years ago. His new wife is younger, and they have a couple of kids.”

“More siblings for you. How lovely.”

“I guess. I barely know them. They live in Arizona, and the kids are so much younger.”

“And you really don’t want any more siblings.”

“I don’t need any. I have Daniel.”

“Hmm.” He lapsed into silence, long enough that Kathryn felt a spike of fear.

“Lucas?”

Her heart jumped in alarm when he didn’t answer, and she scooted closer, pressing her face to his and listening for his breath, waiting for the brush of warm air on her cheek.

“Kathryn,” he breathed, soft enough that she wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t been so close. “Have I told you I love you?”

She kissed his closed eyes and then his mouth. “Hush,” she whispered. “Save your strength for the important stuff.”

“Love is important, a cuisle. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

He was quiet after that, resting she supposed. But as long as he was still breathing, she figured the symbiote, as he called it, was still working on him, still trying to heal the devastating damage to this body. Kathryn lowered her face into the crook of her arm, still holding on to his hand. She was achingly tired, and she wondered how long they’d have to wait down here.

She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until a loud banging noise woke her. She startled awake, eyes wide. Her first thought was that something had given way overhead, some crucial piece of metal framework that had been holding everything else at bay, and now they were doomed.

“That’s just Nicholas,” Lucas said, his voice much stronger than it had been.

She stared at him. He looked tired beneath the dirt and grime, but his eyes were open and gleaming gold with power.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asked.

“Get out?” she repeated, confused.

“Flash your light up there, will you?” He lifted his eyes to indicate the tangle of metal beams and broken building lying on top of him.

Kathryn frowned, but did as he asked, moving the narrow beam of her flashlight back and forth above them until he grunted in satisfaction and said, “That’s it. Do me a favor?”

She nodded, a little worried about what he was planning to do.

“I want you to go back over by the elevator where you were before. I’m not sure what will happen when I start shuffling things around, and I don’t want you underneath here.”

“I thought you said Nicholas was coming with the rest of the guys. I think we should wait—”

“It’s not in my nature to wait, a cuisle. Besides, I have a reputation to maintain.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“No, it’s not. It’s deadly serious. Now, please, Kathryn, do as I ask and go back over by the elevator.”

She regarded him unhappily for a long minute, then pursed her lips and nodded her agreement. She’d just started to squirm her way back out the way she’d come, when he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“No kiss for good luck?”

Kathryn narrowed her eyes in irritation, but felt the smile tugging at her lips. “You better know what you’re doing, Lucas Donlon, because I’m not saving your ass again if all of this shit tumbles down on you.”

“C’mere.”

She scooted forward again and put her mouth against his, intending to give him a quick peck on the lips. But Lucas had other plans. His hand tunneled into the loose strands of her hair, holding her still as he gave her a searing kiss. His tongue slipped between her teeth, twining with her tongue, as his lips caressed her mouth. The tension fled Kathryn’s body for a few precious moments as she reveled in the seduction of Lucas’s touch, his strong fingers kneading the back of her neck, his kiss claiming her for himself, even if it was only for these few minutes in a dark basement.

He broke away slowly, and she liked to think his reluctance mirrored her own.

“When this is over, Katie mine, you and I are going to spend several quality hours in a big bed with a bottle of good whiskey and no phones.”

“Big talk, vampire.”

“Big plans,” he corrected. “Now go. I’m tired of having all this crap weighing me down.”

Kathryn scowled. She didn’t see how he thought he was going to get out of here without help. Vampire or not, there was just too much stuff in the way, and every bit of it weighed a ton. He waggled his fingers, as if pushing her on her way, so she complied. Scooting backwards, wincing when her injured arm brushed against a jagged piece of concrete, and again when something ripped open her pants leg and added to her cuts and bruises.

“You do understand the concept of moving to safety, don’t you, a cuisle? One should at least try to get there in one piece.”

“I am trying. This isn’t easy, you know.”

Another banging noise started up above, this one continuing for some time as Kathryn finally extricated herself from the worst of the rubble and half crawled, half duck-walked back to the dubious safety of the elevator shaft. The sound died down just before she got there, the final metallic ring echoing down the empty space of the shaft over her head.

“You think they’re coming down this way?” she called over to Lucas.

“Probably. It avoids going through much of the debris. The alternative would be digging in through the side wall.”

“I thought you and Nicholas were, you know, in touch.”

Lucas laughed, sounding very nearly like his regular self. “There are limitations. Are you in the elevator?”

“Yes,” she snapped irritably

“Get as far inside as you can. And you might want to close your eyes.”