“Mo chroí.” Viktor pulled her into his embrace.
“It had claws. I couldn’t get away. I tried to run but I couldn’t. It got me. Oh my God, it touched me.” She pulled from his arms and turned away, showing him her back. “Do you see anything? It was so real.”
“See what? I…” Viktor’s words trailed away as he caught sight of the reddened marks on her shoulder.
“What is it?” she asked, her heart racing.
“It’s going to be okay.” He hesitated. “I can heal you but—"
“Oh my God.” Waverly jumped out of the bed, and ran to the bathroom, inspecting herself in the mirror. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s going to be okay,” he repeated, his voice calm. “You may have manifested this somehow.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.” Waverly stood naked, trembling, staring at the marks. Horror overwhelmed her as reality set in…a demon had touched her. Evil.
Viktor came up behind her with a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, taking her into his embrace. Petrified, she looked up to him, her emotions raw.
“That thing was here.” She glanced to the bed and the bloodstained sheets. “It’s going to come back.”
“No. You’re safe. We’re safe. No one even knows about this house. I have wards set on it. As long as you stay inside, you’ll be fine. It’s the fleam that did this.”
“I didn’t do this to myself,” she yelled, tears streaming down her face.
“Hey, hey,” Viktor reached for her hands, “Look at me.” He patiently waited until she calmed, meeting his gaze. “Whatever your gift is. Your visions. You said you kept this under wraps your whole life. What if it’s starting to change? What if it’s getting stronger?”
She nodded, having suspected as much. Yet she still couldn’t control the visions.
“You said before it was only touch,” Viktor continued. “Human to human. Then it got stronger, you sensed something by touching an object. The wall at the club. Now this.”
“But how is this happening?” she asked. “How did it touch me? I didn’t even leave the house. It’s like I’m hallucinating.”
“But you did leave. Maybe it’s a form of astral projection. In this world there are many realms. Heaven. Hell. And many other places. Wherever you went when you touched this…the energy tied to that fleam is, well, it’s not exactly great. You heard Thorn. And believe me, he knows Hell. There’s something evil about it. And that evil belongs to someone. Or something. In that realm, it was able to touch you.”
“Oh God.” Waverly slumped in defeat, her forehead rested on his chest.
“The good news is that you got out. And you got out on your own. And if you ever end up there again, you will deal with it.”
“I don’t want this. I’m scared.” She’d tried to be brave, to hold up next to shifters and vampires, but the truth was she was human. Vulnerable. Weak.
“We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to get rid of this Godforsaken fleam that was sent to us. And I’m going to find Ivar, Adam and our mystery vampire. You’ve got to trust me. This ends now.”
“Please don’t lie to me,” she pleaded.
“I swear to the Goddess. By the end of the day, this will be done. Just give me a little more time. I’m working with Quintus to track down the vampire from the bar. And then I’m going to kill her.”
Waverly held tight to Viktor. She slowed her breath until their hearts beat in rhythm, absorbing his peaceful energy. Although grateful for the respite, instinct warned her that the creature in her vision would come for her. It wanted to make Viktor suffer, to see him humiliated and on his knees again. And even though she was human, she’d give her own life to protect him.
12
Viktor sat in front of the fireplace, its volcanic rock masonry reaching up toward the cathedral ceiling. With his feet propped up on an ottoman, he leaned back into his brown leather chair. Viktor cupped his glass, but didn’t drink, his eyes closed as his mind raced.
For hundreds of years, he’d lived free of his sire’s tyranny, thankful the bastard had been sent to Hell. No longer a slave to his sadistic hellish existence, Viktor worked hard, prospered, immersing himself in all the luxuries and pleasures the world had to offer. Despite the success, there was no recovering all that was lost; Baxter had stolen his humanity…until now. Viktor prayed Baxter was suffering in Hell, but it wouldn’t even be a fraction of the agony he’d inflicted on him.
Viktor’s thoughts drifted to Waverly, the one who reminded him that the ability to love someone, the very essence of being human, still existed within his soul. I love you. In a sleepy whisper, she’d said the words to him that no one had ever spoken. Love had been an elusive, precious treasure that he’d long resigned himself to never owning. Yet his heart, the burning in his soul for her, told him that, indeed, he’d found the one, and he loved his incredible human woman.
Nevertheless, Viktor hadn’t completed the bond. He’d never do to her what had been done to him, to steal her choice, to deprive her of growing old, experiencing life with her friends and family. Whether he simply completed the bond to give her eternal life, or further turned her, it would inflict pain she’d never comprehend, an acceptance of continual loss over time. Being forever young, while watching others around you die, was a living hell for some vampires. Although the instinct to bond would grow stronger within him, the craving tearing at his heart, he’d resolved to give her as much time as she needed.
He considered how they’d met at the bar, how it at first appeared a serendipitous event designed by the Goddess to bring them together. But was it fate or an orchestrated plan? Viktor had shown weakness the night he’d met Waverly. Saving her was a mere indulgence at the time, but going after her to San Diego, taking interest in a human tilted the scales, making her a more than casual interest.
When Waverly had touched the fleam, something powerful, something evil had reached through the realm and attacked her. With her abilities strengthened, he wondered what else she could see, possibly conjure. With the scratch still fresh on her skin, Viktor raged with vengeance, determined to exact retribution.
The sound of the wolf’s footsteps jarred his contemplation and Viktor sighed. Rafe had been endangered as well. The weight of responsibility rested heavily on his mind.
Viktor had contacted Greyson and given them their location in Iceland. His brother flashed himself and the wolf to his home.
“You all right, Vik?” Rafe asked as he walked into the room.
“Yep.” Viktor kept his eyes closed. “Brennivín’s on the bar.”
“Uh, what? I don’t think I’ve ever had this stuff.” Rafe glanced at the bottle.
“Well today’s your lucky day,” Viktor’s eyes remained closed, both his expression and tone detached. “Welcome to the land of ice and fire.”
“When in Rome,” Rafe joked.
“You’re not.”
Rafe sniffed the open bottle, shrugged and then poured the liquor. “Is Waverly okay?”