Collector: City In Embers Part 17

"And those six come with fae-crafted bullets. They'll try to save me but might shoot you on sight." I tugged at his arm to move away from where Liam and Sera were climbing. "Even if they don't, and they use the darts? If we are even nicked by one-game over."

Ryker pondered a moment before nodding. "Come on." He ran for the far end of the roof. There was an alleyway dividing it from the building across.

"Oh, h.e.l.l no." I shook my head, looking down. Vertigo distorted my vision.

"What are our other choices?"

"I can distract them." Sprig jumped off my shoulder.

"Sprig! What are you doing?" I called after him.

"Helping." He shrugged and disappeared behind the structure holding the roof door.

"Sprig!" I went to follow him when Ryker grabbed my arm.

"He'll be fine." He tucked his axe away, impatience rus.h.i.+ng his words. "We have to jump now."

"You think he'll be fine? He'll probably keel over right at their feet."

"He made his choice. We have to go."

I bit my lip. He was right. It was our only option. My legs suddenly felt like the shortest limbs on the planet. Why couldn't I have been eight feet tall and do a split-leap across to the opposite roof?

"Don't think. Just do it," Ryker yelled. He took off, bounding for the other side. He rolled as he hit, coming back on his feet. "Jump!"

I stepped back, giving myself a running start. "Save my little, broken body."

"Freeze, Zoey!" Sera's voice shouted from behind. "If you move, I will shoot you."

Her familiar voice had me glancing over my shoulder. She stood with the dart gun in her hand pointed at me. Liam stood next to her, his fae gun also on me.

"We don't want to hurt you, Zoey, but we will if we have to." Liam said the standard scripted lines, but his words were filled with disgust. The way they stared at me showed the repulsion in their faces. I was no longer the comrade they used to train with, nor was I an ordinary fae. I was far more vile to them. Their hatred of me was personal.

Sera's focus couldn't seem to stay on me for long. Her hand trembled, and a trickle of blood seeped from her nose to her lip.

"s.h.i.+t," she mumbled, then wiped her nose on her jacket, without taking the gun off me. The headache would soon follow. A creased line dented her forehead, and her jaw flexed. I knew her sight would go, replaced by snaking lines and patterns.

Deep in my brain, it triggered the fact since I'd been on the run I hadn't gotten any nosebleeds or headaches. Well, not the seer kind. But the thought was so tiny and unimportant, I pushed it away.

"Better take your medication soon, Sera. Those headaches are debilitating. Might keep you from getting your man..." I smiled, taunting her. "Or woman in this case."

"Not me. I will shoot you, Zoey." Liam took another step, his gun ready to fire. I had no doubt he would. Maybe not to kill, but it would stop me.

"I don't think so." Sprig tossed a large chunk of brick at Liam. It crashed onto his head. Liam stumbled to the side, knocking into Sera. "Don't make me start throwing my poo at you," he yelled at Liam, then turned to me with a shrug. "I've heard monkeys do that. Now go!"

I didn't think. I ran and jumped, stretching my legs as far as they could go. The impact of the roof tore through my jeans and rocked through my bones. Holy s.h.i.+t! They make this look so easy on TV. I rolled across the rooftop, grunts tearing from my chest. Finally I came to a stop. Ryker was right there, helping me stand. Bullets tore past us, zipping so close I could feel their heat.

Ryker pulled me to my feet, and we crouched as we scurried away. Slugs continued to whizz past us, but we made sure not to run in a straight line. It was harder to hit a moving target, even harder an unpredictable one.

"Subjects are on neighboring roof. All teams respond." I heard Liam's voice in the crisp morning air.

Ryker's hand reached for the roof door of the new building, twisting till the k.n.o.b broke. He shoved me inside, and we rushed down the steps. It was an apartment building. A low-income one. People lingered in the hallways, sleeping on the stairs or landings. Clothing, boxes, and junk littered the halls. I tried to step across a man but slipped.

"Hey," he yelled, then turned over and went back to sleep, a paper bag with what appeared to be a bottle of cheap liquor stood close to his head.

Far below, I heard the front door bang open.

"This way." I grabbed Ryker's arm and tugged him along one of the pa.s.sages. He seemed to understand what I was thinking because when we got to the middle of the hallway, he slammed his shoulder into a closed door. It broke on his first hit, the wood around the lock shredding. Screams from a woman and several children echoed in my ears as we ran through. I didn't notice anything more than moving outlines, my focus directed on the windows. We were only two stories high. It was break-your-leg height, but not a kill-you fall.

People continued to scream and dance around us, even throwing stuff, but Ryker and I ignored them. He yanked the window open and released a small relieved huff. I followed his gaze below. The side alley was lined with old open-topped dumpsters.

Shouts coming from the hallway zipped fear along my spine. Peter was close. I heard his voice. Ryker shoved me to the windowsill, and I pushed off, letting my body fall. Only a moment after I hit, Ryker landed next to me. The smell of the rotten food, feces, and dead animals spurted up my nose, choking me. Gooey, slimy items I didn't even want to think about encircled me. I pushed through the bile and tried to get on my feet. Ryker hopped out with ease. Turning, he grabbed my waist, lugging me from the bin.

His feet were ready to run, and the second mine hit the ground, his powerful legs shot him off like a rocket. I tried to keep pace. And adrenaline did a good job-for a while. I started to lose the energy I needed to keep going.

"Come on. We are not safe yet," he chided me. We ran down Fifteenth Avenue to the Ballard Bridge. My mouth went slack when I saw the familiar forest green span. Lightning from the ES had carved a huge chunk from it, destroying one side of the pa.s.sage. The watch tower, which used to stand in the middle, was gone, leaving an open angry wound. Pieces of it floated on top of the frosty channel below. No railing or even a southbound lane was left, leaving it exposed. It didn't look safe to cross, but it didn't seem to stop us. The DMG was more of a threat than an unstable bridge. It was still attached to the other side, which was good enough.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was following us. Mistake. The movement caused me to drift to the side. My foot slipped on the fresh rainwater coating the metal. I stumbled, my head diving forward. I reached to grab for an object to stop me. Too late. The steel crossing was no longer underneath me. My stomach dropped as I plunged to the icy water below. Of all the dangerous things after me, this was not how I wanted to die. Taking a header off a bridge.

"Zoey!" Ryker's deep voice boomed. As gravity dragged me into the lake, all I thought was, He said my name. He actually said it and not simply "human." Then I hit. Frigid water slapped my exposed skin. Ice picks stabbed into me, twisting with immobilizing agony. Breath was sucked from my lungs as water wrapped me, pulling me down. This taught me not to have learned how to swim. It wasn't like I had a parent who put me in cla.s.ses when I was a kid. No foster parent I had would pay for an extra like swimming lessons. As an adult, it was something I eventually wanted to do but had yet to accomplish.

Oh, the irony.

My arms and legs moved frantically but not necessarily working together or helping. Water flooded the messenger bag around my neck, towing me deeper. Panic and cold tore all common sense from my brain. My lungs twitched, screaming for air.

Sinking.

My oxygen gave out, and I gulped at the water, filling my lungs with liquid. My mind grew hazy, my limbs no longer working.

I was going to die.

Through the murky darkness, arms reached for me, circling my waist and pulling me to the surface. We broke through, and I gasped for air, tugging it in with greedy gulps.

Coughs ripped at my throat as I hacked up some of the water I consumed. Ryker kept his form close to mine, giving me a heat source. The water had been so cold my extremities became immobile.

"Zoey, listen to me. I need you to climb on my back. Can you do it?"

My teeth rattled so hard it looked like I was nodding my head. He twisted me around and looped my arms around his neck, then swam. I floated behind him and curled my arms tighter around his neck, bringing me higher on his back. He reached the water's edge. Oil and garbage whirled around us the closer we got to the sh.o.r.e.

He pulled us onto a rocky patch of beach, if you could call it that. I slid off his back and rolled onto the pebbles, coughing and sputtering. My lungs rejected the water I inhaled.

He lay on his back next to me. "That was an unexpected and creative means of escape." He kept his eyes on the clouds above, water clinging to his lashes. "If you wanted to go for a swim in Lake Union, I would suggest summer next time." He took a few deep breaths. "They will be searching for us soon, backtracking when they can't find us. We need to get moving."

I didn't budge.

"Hey," he called to me. "Zoey?"

Three times. He had said my name three times.

His hand came to my face, turning my head to him. "f.u.c.k. Your lips are blue. You're blue all over." He climbed to his feet.

"I-I-I-I-m-m-m-m-f-f-f-f-i-i-n-n-e-e," I chattered.

"No, you're not. We need to get you warm before hypothermia sets in." He picked me up, the sodden pack only adding to the weight. At least Sprig was not in there.

"No." I shook my head. I would be d.a.m.ned if he was going to carry me like a baby while I was conscious. But as soon as I stood, the shock didn't let me do anything but shake like a paint mixer.

"We don't have time for your stubbornness unless you want to lose limbs." He didn't wait for my response and scooped me up unceremoniously. He moved us quickly through the streets, blending in with the darkening shadows. To me it was still torturous. Every jolt, every time he heaved me higher was like someone stabbed me with a thousand serrated knives. My lungs clenched, and the tremors through my frame grew so violent Ryker had trouble holding me.

The suburban street gave way to greenery. I recognized it immediately. I'd spent a lot of nights in Discovery Park as a teenager, getting drunk and running from park rangers. Ryker moved past the military cemetery and historic district, proceeding to the more forested, uninhabited part.

"Where are we going?" I tried to ask, but it sounded more like grunts. He seemed to understand the English between the gibberish.

"An old abandoned park ranger building. I've used it in the past. It should be safe."

My lids grew heavier, the trauma demanding me to sleep, but the pain and s.h.i.+vering kept me awake.

Finally, we reached the bungalow. He placed me on a tree stump while he went around, getting in through a back door. He came back and carried me inside. It was a one-room stone cabin. A fireplace, desk, chair, bathroom, and kitchenette filled the tiny s.p.a.ce.

"I am going to start a fire. It's dangerous, but I figure there are too many clouds and smoke in this city for anyone to notice this one." He bent over the small fireplace. "You need to take off your clothes."

"W-w-w-h-a-a-t-t?"

He rolled his eyes. "You need to remove your wet clothes. They can dry and so can you... or you can sit there, get hypothermia, and lose all your limbs."

Drama queen.

As he struggled with his wet lighter and getting the stove lit, I grappled with my clothes. Convulsions rocked me, and my hands were not able to close properly enough to get anything off. The tank top underneath my sweater rolled up, displaying the part of my stomach where I had been impaled. In the water, the bandage fell off. There was no feeling where the tips of my fingers touched. Scaring tissue already covered the week-old wound.

How in the h.e.l.l?

A metal rod had gone straight through me, tearing muscle, skin, and tissue. I shouldn't have been almost healed. The only thought was Elthia. Whatever she gave me must have done this. I detected the medication she put in my system wasn't from this Earth-an herb from another world.

Flames flickered in the fireplace, and he stood, turning to me. He tilted his head at the little dent I made in undressing myself. My skin was still so frozen the warmth of the fire could not break through the cold exterior.

"You don't look good." He walked to me.

"S-S-Sprig?" I stuttered.

Ryker's boots tapped mine as he stepped close. He grabbed the hem of my s.h.i.+rt, tugging the soaked fabric over my head. "I'm sure he's okay. Don't worry about him. He'll find you soon."

Clear thoughts resisted forming in my head, but I was acutely aware of his closeness, and him tugging my jeans down.

"Lift your foot." He squatted.

I placed my hand on his shoulder, using him as a crutch as he yanked off the tight jeans. The water only glued them to me. It was like tearing off duct tape. With a harsh wrench, I went on my back.

"Sorry," he said, though he didn't sound sorry. He finished taking off my pants and straightened. His arms slipped under my legs and around my back, collecting me in his arms. My cold, bare skin burned where it touched his warm body. The numbness of most of my skin kept me from caring I was only in my bra and panties. He had seen it before as he already dressed me. In our short relations.h.i.+p, he had seen me in less clothing than a lot of my so-called boyfriends.

He positioned me before the fire, then placed my clothes and all the items in my bag, including Daniel's book and the goat stuffed animal, along the hearth of the fireplace to dry. Seeing Pam hit my heart. I hated not knowing where Sprig was, and if he was all right.

The picture of Daniel and me stuck out of the book, wrinkled and waterlogged, dulling the color-like we were fading away. Some of the supplies we stole and my phone were now absent. Lying at the bottom of the ca.n.a.l.

When he was finished, he began to take off his own clothes. My pulse spiked in my veins, sending the first round of life back into my form. He laid the axe and leather halter on the floor with care before he tore off his s.h.i.+rt. His bare chest demanded I look at it. The tattoo went along his neck and traveled the length of his torso in entwining lines of black. He had another one, which covered most of his back. It looked like ancient Asian symbols and etchings. I didn't know what they meant, but it was gorgeous and mysterious. He dragged his wet jeans over his hips, and they landed in a dense clump, leaving him in only fitted boxer-briefs. His tattoo continued all the way around his side to his thigh, curving over his b.u.t.t.

He looked up, and I darted my eyes back to the fire. He put his clothes next to mine on the hearth. "Your wound is healing." He nodded toward my stomach.

My head trembled in choppy movements. "Y-Y-Yeaaahhh."

He sat next to me. "You can go to sleep if you need to." His voice sounded tight and uncomfortable. I'm sure being half naked next to a human created unpleasant feelings in him as it did me.

I nodded and rested on the dirty, scratchy rug. Everything in me hurt. I shook uncontrollably. It had lightened, but not enough. I curled in a ball, fighting the chill in my bones. I heard Ryker sigh deeply, the wood floor creaked as he moved in behind me.

He didn't say a word as he pulled my body into his. He curled around me, his large build engulfing me in heat. He rested his head on his bicep, snuggling mine into the curve of his arm. It was like being wrapped in an electric blanket. My muscles instantly responded, melting into him. His skin scorched mine, but this was the good kind of pain. After a while, the warmth allowed me to sleep.

I awoke to darkness. Only the smoldering embers in the fire gave a little light to the room. I stretched, spasms of pain working along my clenched tendons. The violent s.h.i.+vering finally eased, and my skin turned from purple-gray to a healthier white-gray. At least it was now in the neighborhood of my natural color. Heat from Ryker coated my limbs in a blissful sphere, relaxing the tension his closeness brought.

Zoey.

He said it. It was the first time he actually used my name. It was so jarring to have his lips curve over the letters of my name. The way my heart pounded when his deep voice called for me. Granted, I was free-falling into the sea, but strangely I almost forgot about the fact I couldn't swim. When I heard my name, there was nothing else. I rubbed at my temple, trying to push all thoughts of him saying my name or the fact I was lying practically naked next to him.

I glanced at him. He lay on his back, one hand on his axe, the other curved around me. His chest moved in steady measure, fast asleep. It was a rare time I could study him without him knowing. My eyes mapped his appearance, taking in every detail. Deep scars lined his face, shoulders, and torso. The skin grew over the wounds in a slightly lighter shade than the rest. I followed the lines of his tattoos in more detail, especially the one curving across his hip onto his a.s.s. I would be lying to say I didn't enjoy watching him undress.

His strong chiseled face, tight braids, and Mohawk gave him a ruthless appearance. He was a guy other girls, against all better judgment, would find themselves extremely attracted to: dangerous, tough, distant, and confident. He demanded you be s.e.xually drawn to him, without him doing a thing. He was hot; there was no denying it. Not pretty like some fae I'd seen, but masculine and intense. Like s.e.x with him would be anything but sweet and timid. Primal and all-consuming were the descriptions which came to mind.

Daniel was the only man I ever looked at, so I never thought about being attracted to a fae. It never seemed probable. I knew too much and saw them differently than other humans did. Being this close to Ryker, I understood the lure. His physique alone would make most people get on their knees and thank his mama.

A soft moan came from Ryker, causing me to jump. I froze, waiting for him to open his eyes and catch me in the act. He mumbled, turning onto his side, facing me, still sound asleep. I released a slow breath. It would have been embarra.s.sing and really hard to explain. I hate you, but I watch you sleep. Creepy.

I readjusted myself on my side and faced away from him. My head scarcely settled on the rug when a hand glided along my b.u.t.t, slinking to my waist. Like an animal stuck in headlights, I went immobile. Everything went on lockdown. Rough palms traced my hip, moving softly but urgently up and down my thigh, curving toward the front of my underwear. My skin flamed where his hand slid, tingling with pleasure. Ryker's breath was suddenly in my ear as he snuggled closer behind me.

Zoey! Move! I was about to clamber away, shouting at him, when his arm pulled me closer, drawing himself tighter into the back of me. Thin underwear and his boxer-briefs were the only things keeping him from finding his way in. My mouth fell open, but nothing came out. He was blistering with heat, extremely hard and huge. My heart thumped in my chest, my body responding to his touch.

"Mara," he whispered. His lips skimmed the sensitive area behind my ear.

Her name was like jumping back into the lake.

"Ryker!" I struggled from his grip. "Ryker, wake up!"

He lurched, and his head popped up. His grip on me loosened in an instant. I scrambled away. I turned to face him, clutching my knees.

His expression was clouded and confused. His looked around wildly, then bolted into a sitting position. Like a gradual tide coming in, recognition slowly washed over him, and he seemed to realize where he was and who he was with. He rubbed at his face, his lungs coming back to a normal pace. We sat in silence; neither of us seemed sure what to do or say.

His shorts still bulged.

A growling noise gurgled in his throat before he climbed to his feet. Anger pulsed off him. His fists clenched at his sides. "Go back to sleep. I'm going to go patrol the area." His voice was low and severe. He swiped his axe off the floor and pulled on his half-dry s.h.i.+rt and pants. Without another word, he stomped from the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

I curled my arms tighter around my legs and pulled them to my chest, trembling. I wasn't sure if it was from anger, the cold, or disgust. Maybe all three. I pressed my lashes together, trying to dispel what happened from my thoughts. There were so many things wrong with the scenario. But what made my skin itch the most was I could still feel him pressed into me. An impression of his hard-on burned into my skin, initiating dampness below.