Page 151 of Vampire's Choice
He wore no shirt, soaked black trousers clinging to his muscled backside and thighs. Lord Mason was a big male, his long, copper-colored hair lying sleek against his broad back. It partially covered the tattoo there, a tiger looking as if it was ready to leap free of the skin. With his age and his amber eyes, it was difficult for Mason to pass as human. At this moment he had no interest in trying.
Almost before he stopped coughing, he was stumbling to his feet and spinning around to find the island. Ruth put a steadying hand on his biceps before he could plunge back into the water to get to it.
“It’s shielded. We can’t get through. Merc, an angel friend, went to get help. We don’t know if they’re still there, Farida and Kane.”
Mason’s chest and shoulders shuddered. He sat down heavily on one of the rocks, putting his hands on his knees. Carefully, Ruth rested her palm on his back. He’d closed his eyes, either to pull it together or keep himself from going mad. She wanted to reassure, but she knew as well as he did all the possibilities.
No. He knew more than that. When the centuries-older vampire straightened, opened his eyes and turned toward her, she saw his bleak look. It didn’t dilute his urgency, or his killing rage, but it wasn’t either of those things that made her draw back, avoiding the hand he reached out to her.
“Our children are no longer there,” he said.
And she knew. In her faltering heart, her terrified mind, her frozen soul, she knew.
When Merc landed on the rocks, Marcellus was with him. Almost before their feet touched, the field over the island was dissipating, the energy fading, though the sky had the sickly green and yellow look it had before a lethal storm.
“Marcellus and I transported Yvette and Maddock. They dismantled it from the air. We put them down near the portal it was spun from so they could cleanse and reinforce its protections again. They’re also evaluating the condition of the island’s fault line and portal interfaces. They’ll meet us at your house.”
She was numb, but nodded. Fists opening, closing. Please, please, please…
Merc moved close enough to put a hand on her, but she moved back, shook her head, a short snap. His brow creased, but he turned to Lord Mason. Whatever he saw in Mason’s face sent a tension through his shoulders and the arcs of his wings. A moment of silence, then Merc spoke, his voice flat.
“Marcellus is going to take you back to Council headquarters in Savannah. Lyssa is already there with other Council members so you can plan your next step, to get your children back.”
Lord Mason’s jaw flexed, and he looked toward Ruth.
“I’ve got her,” Merc said. “You’re needed in Savannah, my lord.”
Ruth turned away from them and spoke through stiff lips. “Get me there,” she said. “To the house. I need to see if my parents are all right.”
She twitched when Merc touched her, but didn’t resist when he picked her up. She didn’t look at him, putting her face against the side of his neck, and staring over his shoulder.
It was a short flight, so she had her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his hips. The way he’d brought her to the island the day he’d met her parents. When she hadn’t wanted them to see her in such an intimate pose, because of a silly self-consciousness.
Ruth.
As soon as he touched down, Ruth wrenched away and ran toward the house. She could feel the energy of the cats now. They were upset, riled up. The island was unsettled, unbalanced. Someone had fucked with it. Fucked with the magic. That had to be why she still couldn’t access the mind link, but Mal and Elisa would be in the house. Or where the cats most needed them. She’d find them.
No. She’d found them. They were in the house. She could feel them. But no mind link. Just emptiness. A lack of…anything.
She smelled blood. Human, vampire. Death.
Yvette was inside. She would be with them. It would be all right.
Several railings of the porch had been busted, as if something had landed on them or kicked the boards so hard they split.
Merc landed in front of Ruth before she reached the steps. She tried to get around him, but then she was in the air, his arms around her again.
She struck at him, not caring if he dropped her. She landed a couple good hits before he brought them to the place she’d shown him, her place to find faith, when her faith was floundering. She saw the wavering energy lines between the African habitat and the sanctuary, but she didn’t see any cats. They were hiding. Watchful. Too much violent energy, too disruptive. Everything was in fight or flight survival mode.
“Why did you bring me here? I have to get home, to see…”
She wouldn’t let him speak, wouldn’t let him say anything to her. She shouted at him, pushed, attacked. She didn’t care if she hurt him. She would destroy anything in her path. He let her run away, toward the road that led back to the house. He retrieved her multiple times, until she collapsed on the grassy slope.
Then she started screaming, a voiceless wail.
She screamed and screamed her heartbreak, so it echoed through the sanctuary, imprinted and embedded itself there.
Merc was over her, holding her now, his wings covering her. He’d done that before, to give her sanctuary, rest. Now he did it to let her stay hidden from the world when she couldn’t bear to show her face to it.