Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) Page 6

  Wyatt slowly brought his hands up to Dev’s, wrapped his fingers around hers and painstakingly maneuvered the blade away from his neck. Only then did he dare make eye contact with her.

  “You didn’t really think I was just going to leave you here, did you?” Wyatt asked as he moved to retrieve his blade from Dev.

  She wasn’t quite ready to give it up and slashed at Wyatt’s outstretched hand, managing to nick his wrist.

  “Whoa!” Wyatt sat back on his heels, holding his wrist, and laughed.

  “Fair enough. I deserved that. I should have told you I was coming back, but I couldn’t risk Ryker overhearing or suspecting anything. Trust me, if he thought I was coming back for you he would have spent all night watching me like a hawk. So I left you and walked away and it worked. Now get over it and give me back my blade.”

  Despite the laughter in his voice, Wyatt wasn’t playing. He wanted his blade. Her name was Odara and she had been handed down the Clayworth line since the witnessing of The Code of Ten. She was sharper than any Raven blade and fit his hand like a glove. Many had fought and died at his hand thanks to Odara. She was his protector and he wanted her back where she belonged, safely strapped to his hip.

  "Kill me," Dev offered the blade at a price.

  Wyatt stood up tall and glared down at Dev, clenching his jaw in irritation.

  "Kill me," Dev challenged him again, taunting him with her smug stare and grim request.

  With blinding speed, Wyatt landed on Dev, knocking her to the ground. Before she even realized what was happening, he locked down her arms and liberated his blade from her grasp. Wyatt hovered above Dev, inches from her face, momentarily tempted to slice her throat and end all of this drama. She could not move a muscle.

  "You are in no position to bargain with me," Wyatt angrily whispered, never taking his eyes off hers. "I am faster and stronger than you. So don’t even think about toying with me like that again.”

  Wyatt pushed himself off of her, replaced Odara at his hip and grinned mischievously. “For the record, my blade isn’t worth your life. I just want it back. And I asked nicely the first time.”

  Dev remained in her prone position, staring up at Wyatt, uncertain of her next move. She didn’t have the strength necessary to pull herself into a seated position and she definitely was not going to ask for help.

  “What?” Wyatt stared down at Dev, knowing she needed help to get up but determined to make her ask for it.

  Even in the darkness, Dev could see Wyatt’s eyes sparkling with amusement. He was thoroughly enjoying this little moment between the two of them. His pleasure made her wish she had slit his throat when she had the chance. Rather than requesting his assistance, Dev focused every ounce of her energy on rolling over onto her stomach. If she could do that, she could easily pull herself into a sitting position, Wyatt be damned. She closed her eyes and focused every fiber of her being on the task at hand but nothing happened. Her body failed to react. It didn't even twitch. The body that had so beautifully saved her from certain death at the hands of those Sanctum fools just hours earlier now could not even roll over. She shook with frustration, wanting to scream to the heavens in rage, knowing such action was futile and beneath her. So she took a calming breath, opened her eyes and glared at Wyatt.

  "Ahhhh, you're back. I was starting to miss your charming scowl," Wyatt bent low and absentmindedly pushed some of Dev’s hair out of her eyes, “was getting worried there for a second."

  Dev grabbed his hand in her vice-like grip. She hated him and his snarky comments.

  "I realize you don’t like me," Wyatt pulled his hand out of her grasp and gently placed his arms around Dev, helping her to sit, unable to look at her lying helplessly on the ground for another second, "but I'm all you've got so by all means, continue simmering in your hatred for me but do so with the understanding that I'm on your side.

  "All this stabbing and cutting nonsense has got to end. If you want to hurt me, just imagine it, okay? Pretend. Don't actually do it. I heal quickly but it still hurts like hell."

  "Now we've got to get out of here fast," Wyatt checked his watch, alarmed at how much time had passed since he jumped out of his window, "and you still can’t walk, which means I’m going to have to pick you up again. Whether you’re okay with it or not.”

  He leaned back on his heels and waited, for some reason hoping Dev would respond, all the while knowing she would not. Dev listened with keen interest to every word coming out of Wyatt’s mouth. She most certainly didn’t like him, but she had to respect his determination. He fully intended to get her out of this park and to somewhere safe and against her better judgment, a tiny part of her was relieved. It was the same, small part of her that was fiercely drawn to him, like a sickness almost. And it was the part of her she most wanted to destroy.

  Dev hardened her resolve, focused on her immense hatred for all things Sanctum and shut down.

  For an instant, Wyatt thought he saw a spark in Dev’s eyes and just as quickly, it was gone. At that moment, for reasons unknown to himself, Wyatt resigned himself to a one-sided relationship with her, one completely based upon his will to help her. He stood up and reached for her, praying she didn’t have a blade hidden somewhere, knowing that if she did, this time she would definitely kill him. To his surprise, Dev wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed Wyatt to scoop her up and into his arms, but he thought nothing more of it, knowing full well she was merely using him to further her agenda.

  And that was all right.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Wyatt remained quiet as he headed downtown for the second time in one night. He knew exactly where he was going and without Ryker’s constant chattering, was able to calm some of the thoughts racing through his head.

  Dev studied him for a moment, aware of a change in his body language. Wyatt held her and walked with confidence and purpose, almost as if he knew what he was doing, she chuckled to herself. It was the first time she found something amusing in quite a while and the pleasant sensation caused her to pause. What right did she have to laugh after the pain and brutality her family endured? She was belittling their passing and had no right to smile about anything. Happiness was for the life she had led; this new life was only about revenge.

  But first she would have to get past the sadness. She could not erase the memories of those last moments: her brother’s body, her mother’s scream, her father’s murder. She should have died with them. She wanted to die now. She did not want to face another day in this life without them. She did not believe she could, which was why she had begged Wyatt over and over again to kill her. His repeated refusals to do so annoyed and exasperated her.

  Wasn’t that his duty as a soldier of The Sanctum? Hadn’t her parents warned her that there would come a day when every member of The Sanctum sought her death? Wasn’t she trained to avoid all Sanctum at any cost? And here she lands in the lap of one such being, a Class A Sanctum warrior no less, offers herself without a fight and he repeatedly refuses to perform the very task he has been training for his entire life: to kill her. The sheer lunacy of her situation exhausted Dev.

  Against her better judgment, she closed her eyes, intending to do so for mere seconds, no more than that. Instead, she fell into a deep sleep, her head thumping into Wyatt’s chest and her arms relaxing their hold around his neck. He looked down at her closed eyes and thought to himself, it’s about damn time. He had been wondering when she would pass out, hoping she would do so before they reached their destination. Wyatt adjusted his hold on her, pulled Dev closer to his body and continued towards the Lower East Side, unsure of whether he would be welcome, but certain it wouldn’t matter.

  Wyatt turned the corner at Avenue C and 4th street, heading for the familiar building with Dev in his arms, completely wrapped in his own thoughts.

  “Well, well. Aren’t you a hot mess?”

  He could not see Darby, but he could sense her presence right away.

  “Don’t start with me, Darby
. It’s been a long night.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Darby stepped from the shadows, “especially when you’ve got something so freakin’ pretty wrapped up in those arms of yours.”

  Wyatt smiled, relaxing into the rhythm of Darby’s easy, flirtatious banter, relieved she seemed to have moved past the evening’s earlier scuffle with Jools.

  “She’s not for you.”

  “Trust me, honey, I can see that clearly enough. I wouldn’t dream of touching something you hold so precious.”

  Wyatt ignored Darby’s comment.

  Darby stepped closer to her beloved warrior, her head cocked to the side in wonder. She reached up and caressed his cheek, grinning all the while.

  “What?” he asked, hating Darby’s mysterious inspections. They always elicited some bizarre truth.

  “I know, honey.”

  “You know what, Darby?”

  “I know.”

  And she left it at that.

  Darby turned on her heel, headed for her house, assuming Wyatt would follow.

  “Darby!” Wyatt called after the tiny, retreating vampire.

  Darby walked up her townhouse steps, opened her door and turned around, wondering what Wyatt was waiting for, a personal invitation?

  “I don’t have all night, sweetie. Let’s move it. Clocks a tickin’ on this gal.”

  Wyatt walked to the bottom of Darby’s stoop and eyed her cautiously.

  “There’s no clock ticking on you.”

  “Mr. Clayworth, not all of us are as aesthetically perfect as you. I need my beauty sleep, thank you very much. Now come on already.”

  Wyatt didn’t move.

  “How do you know...,” he started to ask.

  “Oh, for god’s sake, Wyatt. How do I know what?” Darby cut him off, losing her patience, making Wyatt wonder if he made the right decision seeking her out in the dead of night. “How do I know that you need my help? Well duh, genius. It’s not every night I find you wandering the streets of the Lower East Side, carrying what appears to be a stunningly beautiful girl, but is in fact not a girl at all, but some kind of hybrid creature, the likes of which I have never encountered, but good lord, I would not mind running into some time.

  “And you, look at you,” Darby ran her eyes up and down him, “all hot and bothered but as usual, in complete denial. Which is fine with me, sweetie, I understand that’s your way and I respect it, but don’t you dare look me in the eyes, wanting my help and then tell me one word of what I’m saying is wrong.”

  Wyatt wouldn’t dare do that. For one, he wanted to see the next sunrise and the fact of the matter was he needed Darby’s help.

  “For the record,” Wyatt walked up the steps and into the house, “you’ve seen me wandering the streets late at night quite a bit. I’ve felt you watching me.”

  Darby smacked him in the back of the head as he passed, closing and locking the door safely behind them. He laughed as he headed into her parlour and gently laid Dev on a chaise lounge, finally able to relax his arms. Darby came and stood next to him, looking down on Dev as she slept.

  “You certainly know how to pick them.”

  Wyatt half-heartedly smiled.

  “I had nothing to do with it. I promise.”

  Darby raised an eyebrow in his direction.

  “Sweetheart, if I saw you headed my way, I would fall out in a second if it meant you’d come to my rescue.”

  “If I’m not mistaken, the first time we met, you did see me headed your way and tried your very best to drain me. There was no falling-out-waiting-to-be-rescued scenario going down. There was only kill or be killed.”

  “Ah yes, one of my lower moments and one I’m not proud of,” Darby walked into the kitchen, returning with two glasses of scotch, “but that was deranged-throat-ripping Darby. I’m a new woman these days and trust me, you, honey, can rescue me any time you want.”

  Dev stirred slightly on the chaise but continued sleeping.

  “Did you slip her something? She is sleepin’ the sleep of the dead.”

  Darby leaned in close to Dev and inhaled deeply, taking in her very essence.

  “Do not even think about it, Darby.”

  Wyatt’s voice behind her was devoid of any humor.

  “I already told you I wouldn’t dream of it, loverboy,” Darby turned and grinned at Wyatt, all the while still leaning close to Dev, “she’s not my type, anyway. I like them human, not some magical mish-mash. But hot damn if she isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. And she smells like heaven. How do you control yourself around her?”

  Wyatt leaned back into his chair and took a sip of his drink.

  “When have you ever known me not to be in complete control?” he asked with a smirk.

  “How about right now, mister?”

  “Who says I’m not in control?”

  Darby sauntered over to him and took a seat on his lap, draped a cold arm around him and lightly tickled the skin up and down his neck.

  “Honey, you just walked into my house, carrying in your arms the cause célèbre of your beloved Sanctum. Enemy number one. The Hybrid,” she whispered into his ear, so low and sultry he had to lean into her to catch her words, “if that’s not being a little out of control, then I don’t know what is.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jools slunk down the hall of the West wing of the Academy, hoping no one would hear her and she could catch Ryker before he started his day. She passed several doors until she reached his at the end of the hall, directly across from her brother. Of course, the two of them would be right across the hall from each other, close to the training facilities and away from her parents. Whatever Wyatt and Ryker wanted, The Sanctum provided. Jools rolled her eyes as she stood in front of Ryker’s door, knowing she shouldn’t feel annoyed, but succumbing to the emotion nonetheless.

  She was as talented as Wyatt and Ryker, and definitely more cold-blooded and deadlier than either boy, making their constant deification an even bigger thorn in her side. But she wasn’t here at five fifteen in the morning to rile herself up about petty slights and irritations. Jools was standing in front of Ryker’s door to do something she had never done before but something that felt suddenly necessary.

  “Hey.”

  Jools swung around in shock, not expecting anyone to see her outside Ryker’s room.

  “What’s up?” Wyatt asked.

  “Um...,” Jools paused, not really wanting to explain herself.

  “Jools?” Wyatt used that tone of voice she hated, speaking to her like she was a child.

  “Wyatt.” She retorted, using the same tone, knowing it would drive her brother nuts.

  But instead of engaging in his usual behavior and lecturing her about being places she wasn’t supposed to be, Wyatt slipped past her and started to unlock his suite. Apparently, she wasn’t the only person up to something this morning.

  “The better question,” Jools spoke to her brother’s back, “is what exactly are you doing, big brother?”

  “Nothing. I’m doing nothing, Jools.” Wyatt leaned his head against the door and sighed with exhaustion, “for once in your life just mind your own business.”

  Jools observed Wyatt’s tense neck and shoulders and a rawness in his voice she had never before heard. Her brother was always tightly wound, but this was something altogether different. This was beyond the stress of his training sessions or his duties as a warrior serving The Sanctum.

  “What’s wrong, Wyatt?”

  Wyatt took a deep breath, sensing Jools wasn’t going to let this chance encounter go by without comment. He plastered a smile on his face and turned around to face her, ready to tell whatever lie necessary to divert her attention from him and onto something else.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Why?”

  Jools studied Wyatt’s face again. One second he seemed brittle and tense, the next, he was smiling and relaxed.

  “I don’t know,” she continued staring at Wyatt, knowin
g he was hiding something but not sure what or why, “you just seemed so stressed.”

  “Nah, Jools. I’m good.” Wyatt smiled tiredly and then turned to head into his room, wanting only to hit his bed for a bit.

  “Really? You’re good?” Jools asked incredulously, not appreciating being lied to, her temper getting the better of her. “That’s why you’re wandering, god knows where in the middle of the night?”

  Wyatt turned around and shushed his sister.

  “Keep it down, Jools. Are you trying to wake up the entire hall?”

  “No, Wyatt. I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on with you,” Jools hissed, doing her best to keep her voice down. “I catch you sneaking back into your room at five in the morning, looking like pure hell and then you lie to me, probably hoping to distract me from this very fact.”

  Wyatt didn’t have the energy for a battle this morning. He turned away from Jools for the last time, determined to meet his mattress for some much-needed rest.

  “Two Clayworths for the price of one,” Ryker’s voice caught the bickering siblings off-guard, “must be my lucky day.”

  The sarcasm in Ryker’s voice stung, but Jools didn’t let on.

  Ryker crossed his arms and leaned in his doorway, annoyed at being awoken so early on the one day of the week he could actually sleep in late.

  “What are you guys doing out here, yelling at each other no less, at five in the morning?”

  Wyatt knew an opportunity when he saw one.

  “Sorry, Ry. I heard her out here, standing outside your door and told her to keep it moving but this is Jools we’re talking about,” Wyatt trailed off, allowing Ryker to finish the thought however he chose.

  Wyatt then walked into his room, closed the door behind him and left Jools in the hall with her jaw on the ground, amazed her brother had just played her like that.

  “That is not what happened,” Jools denied Wyatt’s version of events, wishing she could wring her brother’s neck, “at all.”