Bound Guardian Angel (62 page)

“Hey, this is your party, sweetheart. I’m
just a guest.”

Cordray huffed and glanced again toward the
threesome against the opposite wall. “What about her? Can you see
inside her thoughts?”

“Who? The red-headed bitch? Yeah, but I
doubt the image of an Italian beach is going to help us much.”

“An Italian beach?” She turned toward
him.

He lifted his shoulders as his eyebrows shot
upward. “Yep. That’s all I’ve gotten from her in the last five
minutes. She popped into Digon’s office while I was getting the
rundown. She’s been nothing but sunshine and sand ever since.”

Their brilliant coup was turning into a
brilliant disaster.

“She’s blocking you.”

“Yep. Probably because she knows what I’m
capable of.”

“As in . . .?”

He frowned as if the answer should be
obvious. “As in, she probably knows I’m able get into her thoughts
without her feeling me, so she’s put up a wall just in case I
try.”

Before Cordray could reply, her phone buzzed
again at the same time Micah looked at his.

Cynthia’s text read,
Skeletor has
stopped. Here’s the address.

Cordray typed the address into her GPS
app.

Wait a minute. This couldn’t be right.

She checked the address again then looked up
at Micah just as he turned amazed eyes toward her.

“He’s here,” they said at the same time.

Chapter 39

“Tell the teams to hold,” Cordray told Micah,
scanning over the heads of the crowd to see if she could see anyone
who fit Skeletor’s description coming or going.

The place was packed. There had to be five
hundred in attendance tonight, not that everyone would fight. Some
seemed to enjoy the camaraderie more than the fighting, while
others seemed more intent on getting in the cage than being social.
But the sheer volume of members made finding one specific person
nearly impossible, especially when she wasn’t exactly sure what he
looked like. She only had a general idea.

She received another text.

Trace said he hears a lot of shouting. Like
fighting.

Yeah, because Skeletor was here. He was a
member of Grudge Match. While Micah texted Stryker to hold, she
texted Cynthia that Skeletor was where they were.

“I’m going to head to the other side.” Micah
pointed. “If he tries to leave, I might be able to corner him.”

Another message vibrated her phone.

Brak sees the fighting cage. Skeletor is close to
the wall. The number 3 is right behind him.

Cordray’s head shot up, and she looked
toward the wall, found the 3, and began searching the faces. Out of
her peripheral, she saw Micah closing in, as well, having received
the same message.

There were so many people packed into the
small, shadowy space around the cage. Even if she found him, she
wasn’t sure she’d be able to get to him without climbing over the
tops of people’s heads. The place was a mosh pit.

Micah stopped, his eyes fixed dead ahead as
if he’d found their guy. Cordray followed his gaze, zeroing in on a
head of shiny black hair hanging in a sweeping arc around a pair of
seductive, slate-grey eyes.

Skeletor.

Those intense eyes lifted and met hers then
widened when he realized she was looking at him. Like a startled
deer, his body twitched to high alert. He spun, preparing to flee,
only to run smack into Micah.

For a second, it looked like they had him,
but Skeletor was much too wily. In a flash of movement, his fist
shot up and connected with Micah’s jaw. Micah staggered backward
but quickly fell into a defensive stance.

Cordray fought through the thick, cheering
crowd as the fight inside the cage reached a bloody conclusion.
Meanwhile, the fight outside the cage was just getting started.
Micah landed a clean backhand that threw Skeletor sideways, but he
quickly righted himself and deflected a volley of punches before
gripping the front of Micah’s shirt and rolling backward to the
cement floor.

She knew that move all too well, remembering
their fight in the alley the other night.

Cordray briefly lost sight of them, and then
Micah flew through the air. A moment later, Skeletor was back on
his feet, swiping blood from under his nose with the back of his
wrist. His gaze met hers. He smirked, glanced quickly over his
shoulder, and then took off before Cordray could reach him.

By the time she made it into the small
clearing, Micah was on his feet, sprinting after him.

She gave chase, less than a hundred feet
behind.

By the time she caught up on the street,
Micah had slowed to a jog.

After a few more seconds, he stopped
altogether as the sound of a motorcycle whined into the
distance.

They were both breathing heavily, trying to
catch their breath.

“Why did you stop?” She stood akimbo, giving
her lungs more room to expand so she could take deeper breaths.
“He’s getting away.”

He looked at her and shook his head,
grinning like a demon who’d latched onto a soul. “He didn’t get
away.”

“Okay, you’ve lost me. You could have
dematerialized and chased him.”

He leaned in close enough for Cordray to
smell his sweat. “We know where he lives, remember?” He glanced
down at this phone and smirked. “And thanks to Io, we now have a
name.”

He held his phone up so she could read Io’s
text message. Ronan. Skeletor’s name was Ronan.

Micah tucked his phone back into his pocket,
unusually calm. “Besides, I hate dematerializing. It makes me
dizzy.” He spun on his heel and headed back into the parking
garage.

Cordray followed. “You still could have gone
after him.”

He kept on marching.
“No . . .” He kept his gaze to the front, but a wry
smile curved his mouth. “I want
Ronan
to get nice and
relaxed. I want him to think he’s safe.” He sneered and gave her a
wicked side-eye. “And then I’m going to fuck. His. World. Up.”

Chapter 40

Cordray stared out the passenger window of the Denali
at the dark houses and fields as she and Trace returned to
Asylum.

It was almost three in the morning.

She’d wanted to stay and help Micah go after
Ronan, but, after thanking everyone for their hard work, Micah had
insisted they go home. He said he would take care of Ronan on his
own. Which meant Ronan had maybe forty-eight hours left to live,
tops.

But if Micah wanted to take Ronan down
himself, Cordray would let him. Her list of priorities had shifted
sharply in the past twenty-four hours, and kicking Ronan’s ass
wasn’t as high on that list as it was a couple of days ago. Taking
a contented breath, she turned and gazed at Trace’s strong profile.
He had become her number one priority and had just jumped to the
top of her to-do list, thanks to Micah’s independent streak.

The corner of his mouth lifted as his eyes
flicked toward her. Then he took his right hand off the steering
wheel and held it over the center console. She slid her fingers
between his and smiled as warmth seeped into her palm. It felt good
to feel again, even if she still couldn’t feel anything when he
wasn’t around. Trace was her lightning rod. Her lighthouse in the
fog. He grounded her and made her feel safe. Something she never
thought would be the case a few weeks ago.

Squeezing his hand, she finally broke the
comfortable silence. “How did it feel working with your brother
tonight?”

“It felt good.” He grinned and glanced at
her. “Real good.” He faced the road again. “Everything is finally
starting to feel like it’s going to be okay.”

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?” She
knew his life had been filled with heartache, and that he’d been
barely inches from going mutant a couple of days ago, but that was
then. This was now. And now they were together. No more resistance.
No more fighting fate. All she wanted was to get home and feel him
inside her until sunrise.

“What about your father? Are you going to
see him?”

Trace gave her hand a squeeze. “Brak and I
are going to visit him in a couple of days, after he’s recovered
and I’ve gotten some rest.” He cast her a sideways glance.
“Someone’s been preventing me from getting any sleep.”

“And I’ll be preventing you from getting
even more once we get home, so don’t get any ideas about wimping
out on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They drove in contented silence for a few
minutes. Then Cordray noticed an orange glow in the distance. In
the area of the ranch.

“Trace . . .?” she
straightened, her instincts spiking to high alert as the glow got
bigger.

“What is that?” Trace leaned forward and
squinted.

“I don’t know.” Her heart began to race as a
sinking feeling dove into her gut. “Hurry. Hit the gas.” She
planted her hands on the dashboard and strained forward. “Faster,
Trace!”

The glow grew larger, flickering. Smoke
billowed into the air.

“Oh my God! It’s a fire. The ranch is on
fire!”

She glanced across the seat to find that the
color had drained from Trace’s face. He pressed harder on the
accelerator.

When they reached the ranch, he slammed on
the brakes, jacked the steering wheel to the right, and fishtailed
onto the gravel driveway. Rocks spit up under the Denali, clanking
against the undercarriage as they raced toward the fire, bouncing
over the pair of potholes that still hadn’t been filled.

Several of the children were in the yard,
hugging themselves, staring at the blazing dorm. Mya and Brenna
were there, too. Mya was holding Faith. Brenna was on the phone.
She spun around as the Denali skidded to a halt on the rocks.

She and Trace were out of the cab before the
engine could even shut off.

“What happened? Is everyone okay?” She ran a
circle around the shivering, crying kids in the yard. “Where are
Null and Aiden?” Her pleading eyes jumped to Mya’s. “Please tell me
they got out.”

The expression on Mya’s face said it all.
Her two youngest were still inside the dorm.

“No!” Without thinking, she raced toward the
open front door.

She had to save her kids.

* * *

“Cordray!” Trace started after her, but his legs gave
out, and he fell to his knees.

Fire. Why did it have to be fire? Give him
an ocean to swim across, a mile-wide chasm to leap over, or a
hurricane to fly through, but not fire.

As he stared up at the blazing dormitory, it
seemed to stretch skyward, growing ten stories tall instead of just
two. One of the windows shattered, and he threw his arms in front
of his face as glass and flames shot out.

Cordray was in there. His
mate
! It
was his job to protect her. He had to do something. He couldn’t
lose her now that he’d just found her. And what about Null and
Aiden? He’d only known them a few days, but he already thought of
them as his own. Would a father allow his children to die? All
because he was a little scared?

Okay, make that a lot scared.

Terrified.

Just hearing the crackle of the flames was
enough to send his pulse into orbit.

“Trace!” Brenna knelt beside him and shook
his shoulder. “Do something. Please!” Horrified panic filled her
bloodshot eyes.

He faced the fire. Saw his mother as she
burned. Smelled her charred flesh.

He’d let his mother die. He hadn’t been
strong enough to save her. But he was strong enough now. He had to
be. He refused to let another female he loved perish.

In his mind, he saw his mother’s eyes open
on her charred face and look right at him.

Go, Trace! You can save them. You were made to save
them.

Her voice touched his mind so powerfully it
felt like she was really there. As if she had never died and was
still with him.

Now, Trace!

Pulling courage into his gut and strength
into his legs, he rose and staggered toward the burning building.
Smoke flooded the doorway, and he could see flames shooting across
the ceiling in the rec room.

On the verge of hyperventilating, he forced
his feet to move, then run, and then he was inside, surrounded by
fire. The rail of the staircase smoldered. Flames licked up the
slender posts.

“Cordray!”

Something crashed upstairs as the ceiling
caved. He heard a scream. A child’s scream. Aiden’s.

“TRACE!” Cordray shouted from the second
floor. “Help us!”

Heedless of his fear, he raced up the stairs
and into the hall, which was filled with smoke and flames. Burning
beams hung from the ceiling, blocking the way to the kids’ room at
the end of the hall.

The sound of breathless coughing reached his
ears.

“Cordray!” He pushed forward, oblivious to
the intense heat.

“We’re in here!” Cordray yelled from beyond
the blockade of fire-consumed wood. “Back here!”

Oh God, they were trapped.

You can do it, Trace. Use your power.

His power?

How?

Just do it!

Desperate and terrified, he thrust his hand
out in front of him, letting loose an explosion of energy unlike
any before. It was so powerful that it couldn’t possibly have come
from him, but it had.

A boom sounded, and the fiery blockade
vaporized into ash, cutting a path to the children’s bedroom. He
rushed forward.

Cordray was huddled with the kids on the
floor. They were covered in soot. Aiden clutched her Pooh Bear with
one hand and held a small blanket over her mouth with the other, as
if she were using it as an air filter.

Cordray’s fearful gaze met his and instantly
transformed into one of relief and hope. And love.

“Can you dematerialize?” he said. He wasn’t
able to. That was one vampire gift he’d been born without. His
mixed blood allowed him to hide in the shadows, but not poof out of
a burning building. Lucky him.