Page 8 of Black Bird

Her blood hummed in her veins and a strange … tug? A pull? Something she didn’t recognize tightened in her stomach. Tightened enough that it blurred out the sound of whatever Brent and Wren were saying as she swiped a palm over her face and rubbed harshly. She should have been happy. Happy that she was alive and had survived something most people likely would have died from. She should have been grateful to have someone here that cared about her and was glad to know that she was alright. Before she had moved to Boston, she’d had no one left. No siblings, no father … no mother. Having the only two people in her life thatmeant anything to her in this room should have given her comfort—but it just didn’t tonight. She wanted them out. Wanted some space and some time to come to grips with what happened. Which would have been easier if she’d known what the hell that was.

Another knock at the door set her off. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Sarah yelped, startling both Brent and Wren as they flinched and backed away—that was until she moved her hand away from her face and caught sight of the figure standing in the doorway.

She was alive. How the hell was she alive? He had checked her pulse and there was nothing left. There was no life in that distant hazel stare when he’d left her to rot in the alley. For the first time in he couldn’t remember when, Athan felt sick. He had just bitched Dahlia to kingdom come about the mess he was having to clean up for her and the coven and then theleadthat his captain had given him was likely going to be the one thing to blow their whole cover—and it had beenhisfault. Despite all of that, some part of him … a part that was foreign and new … was being drawn to this girl. If he was being the least bit honest with himself, he had been drawn to her even before he’d attacked her. He couldn’t explain it and wasn’t going to try to right now.

No, right now, he’d have to be Detective Kane. Not a piss-poor excuse for a vampire, or a man, but a professional that was going to help the girl he’d thought he killed figure out the pieces that he was going to have to explain away. Part of him was relieved that somehow, for once … he hadn’t killed a human. The other part of him selfishly wished he had. She was about to be in the middle of something that she didn’t deserve to be dragged into.

His fault … this was all his fault.

The buckles on his black boots clinked as he walked down the bright hallways of the community hospital, putting off the facade that he was eerily calm. On his dark insides, the heart he wasn’t yet accustomed to thrashed against his ancient ribs. He realized, as he neared her door, that he’d never asked for directions to her room and he paused, wondering how the hell he’d known where to find her. That familiar push from the inside shuffled in his middle and he swallowed hard before resuming his smooth gait to the open doorway just a few feet ahead. His keen hearing picked up the sound of others in the room before he raised his eyes from the white tile floor and gently knocked.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Her voice … it was weak and yet—

BrentfuckingStratford and that redhead from the club moved aside as that gorgeous creature raised her face to him and lowered her hands. Christ, she was beautiful. Athan wasn’t wholly sure whether it was because of her fragile human state, the fact that she was alive when she shouldn’t have been … or if it was because of the way the whispers in his mind started raging with that strange heart of his, as their eyes finally met for the first time. Her mouth parted at the sight of him, and he tried not to look at the horrendous bandage with small spots of her blood peeking through it. Tried not to breathe when he scented it.

“I’m sorry … Miss St. James?” he attempted, nearly choking on his words. Her redheaded friend looked him up and down, not the least bit shy in hiding her stamp of approval. She didn’t seem to recognize him, but the look on Sarah’s face told him thatshedid. He shook off the thought about how much this girl would remember about Friday night and stepped forward, raising the badge that hung around his neck. “I’m Detective Athan Kane with the Boston Police Department? I’m working your case. I was hoping you’d be able to answer a few questions.”

“Actually, she was just telling us that she wanted to rest, maybe we co—”

“No,” Sarah cut Brent off and reached over to sit her cup on the cart next to her bed. Her trickle-dick boyfriend shot her a confused and pointed look that she ignored, and then turned his attention back to Athan. The redhead chuckled through her nose. “You can come in,” she glanced between her friends. “I’d like to talk to him alone.”

“I would too.” The girl winked, grinning as she leaned in and kissed Sarah’s cheek. Brent scoffed at her remark. “Call me later. Please.” Athan smirked when he watched her flash a middle finger to the boyfriend as she slid past him and out the door.

“I’ll come back and stay the night if you want.” Brent offered, leaning over her.

“Go home, Brent,” was all she said. She didn’t even look at the guy. There was something definitely going on there. Athan made a mental note of it. The lawyer gathered his coat and strode out the door with his tail tucked where a set of nuts should have been.

“I understand if it’s not a good time. I can come back another day. Please don’t feel obligated to do this if you’re not feeling well.” Athan straightened.

“Can you close the door, please?” Her tone was lighter, and her demeanor eased. Athan did as she asked and slowly turned back toward her, keeping his distance and fighting off the sudden urge to help her as she fumbled around to sit straighter and cover the exposed tattooed skin with her loose-fitting hospital gown. He leaned against the wall and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, wishing like hell he could fire up one of the cigarettes he found there. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know you.”

Athan shifted, flicking his black hair over his brow. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re the guy from the bar.”

His jaw tightened.

“You’re observant.”

Sarah half-smiled. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” She looked him over, those bright eyes flickering. “And you’re a cop?”

“Mmhmm.” Athan crossed an ankle over his foot.

“What were you doing at a club like that? You don’t seem the type.”

He huffed a laugh. “I could ask the same about you.” When she didn’t balk, he pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and slipped one between his teeth. Her face grew taut, and she eyed his mouth. He didn’t want to admit to himself that it slightly turned him on. “Feel up to taking a walk? I could sneak you one.”

“Fuck, yes,” she breathed, almost as a sigh of relief. It was the least he could do after robbing her of the last one she’d attempted to smoke. Sarah pulled the blankets aside, revealing her bare legs—tattooed nearly everywhere—and the stupid blue hospital socks with the grip on the bottom. “There’s a pair of boots in this closet. Would you mind?” She pointed at the corner on the other side of the bed by the window where an expensive-looking bouquet sat. Athan strode over, opening the narrow door and finding a pair of scuffed combat boots sitting under a plastic bag of bloody clothes. He held his breath and grabbed the boots, shutting the closet a bit harder than he meant to and brought them around the bed to where she’d scooted to the edge. She pulled off the socks and slipped her bare feet into them.

“Here,” he said quietly, handing her a thick white robe he’d pulled off the back of a chair against the wall.

“I’ve got a jacket somewhere.”

“Trust me. Use this. Unless you’re trying to show me more than you mean to.” She looked at him as if he were the biggest asshole she’d ever met. He supposed that was close enough to the truth. Most people looked at him that way anyhow. She took the robe and shrugged it on, making to stand and not bothering to tie the boots as she made quick work of the belt. In the long years that Athan had lived, he hadn’t been so intrigued by someone. He glanced at her bandage while she wasn’t looking and the cold stab of what he’d done to her pierced him deep. “That needs to be changed.”

She turned her head as well as she could manage and realized what he was talking about. Her eyes flickered back to his. “It bleeds every time I move. If they changed it every time it got like this, I wouldn’t have any skin left.” As if he couldn’t feel any worse. Athan slid the cigarette behind his ear against the close shaved quarter of his head.

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