Home > Books > Warrior's Hope (Dark Protectors #16)(21)

Warrior's Hope (Dark Protectors #16)(21)

Author:Rebecca Zanetti

“Libby, I need to talk to Hope,” he said, trying to keep his voice gentle.

She punched him then, full-on in the gut. He took it, not tightening his abs. Oh, he could have stopped her, and they both knew it, but he figured she deserved one good hit.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“No,” she spat, looking like she wanted to stomp on his foot. In fact, knowing Libby, she would. Derrick lumbered out of the woods, snow falling from his head. His growl held menace as he stood next to Libby in a defensive position.

Hope sighed and moved toward Pax. “Everybody carry out your assignments. We all have work to do today. We’ll meet up again at five.”

“I’m not leaving you with him.” Collin instantly tried to put himself in front of her.

Every muscle in Paxton’s body tightened, preparing to attack. Yet he kept his stance relaxed. “Get out of my way,” he said, unable to help himself.

“Oh, I’m not leaving her with you,” Collin sputtered.

Pax didn’t lift even an eyebrow but cut his gaze to Hope and then back. “You are, or you’re going to leave bleeding. I suggest you move now.”

Only Hope’s sharp calling of Collin’s name stopped him. “You guys, I mean it. Everybody to work. I’ve got this,” she said, exasperation evident in her voice.

Liam checked out the snipers on the nearby rooftops, not bothering to hide the direction of his gaze. “All right,” he called out. “Feel free to shoot the asshole. We’re okay with it. Come on, D.” He slung an arm around his cousin’s snow-covered shoulders. “Hope can handle herself.”

The team unwillingly stomped off toward Realm headquarters in vampire territory.

“Was any of that necessary?” Hope asked.

At least today she was wearing a heavier jacket. It was white and puffy and matched the mittens on her hands. He was gratified to see that she wore heavy boots as well. Oh, he had no doubt it irritated her because she wanted to be as tough as the other warriors, but she wasn’t, and she needed to stay warm. Even now, her nose was pink, and her lips were turning blue.

“What do you want, Paxton?” she demanded.

“I want to know why you look exhausted and your arm still is in a cast.” He didn’t like that there was only one arm showing; the other one must have been against her body. He could smell the plaster, actual plaster, like for a human fracture. “You should take blood and just heal it.”

“That concoction is still in my blood,” she admitted. “I dropped by Emma’s lab first thing this morning.”

He took in the dark circles beneath her stunning eyes. Eyes shouldn’t be violet, but hers were. “You look tired.”

“Gee, thanks.” She turned to walk toward Realm headquarters.

“Let’s go by the lake.” He captured her hand and felt the snipers settle into firing positions.

She looked down at his hand enfolding hers over the mitten. “What are you doing?”

“We used to hold hands all the time.”

She sighed and tugged a small photo album from her bag. “This is yours. We found it when searching the stuff in storage that your father left behind.” She handed over a thin blue book.

He stilled, then opened it to see a picture of his mother smiling at the camera with him on her lap. She’d been so beautiful. As a pure demon, she had white hair and black eyes, and she held him as if he mattered, tucking him close. There were three photos of the two of them, and she’d titled them: Our New Life, On to an Adventure, and The Two of Us. Pax’s heart ached.

Hope tightened her hold on his hand. “She loved you. A lot.”

“New Life?” Was it possible she’d been trying to leave the asshole? Maybe. Pax wondered what might’ve been. A hard rock in his gut started to unfold. He hadn’t even realized it was there. Leave it to Hope to help him, even when she was angry with him. “Thank you for this.” He secured the little book in his back pocket.

“Sure.” She was so sweet, even when she didn’t want to be. He loved that about her.

He started walking, heading around the building toward the long sidewalk that ran the length of the lake. “Come on, we used to walk here all the time.”

She fell into step with him, surprisingly not yanking her hand away. It felt good to be connected to her. Sorrow hit him, and then fury. He would miss this. His body had been aroused around her since he’d become a teenager, so that wasn’t new. Neither was the feeling of inevitability.

“What’s your plan now, Phoenix?” she asked, her voice holding a tone he couldn’t quite identify.

There was nothing wrong with going with the truth. Well, most of the truth. “I want to get my blood tested, and I figure nobody will shoot me if you walk into headquarters with me,” he admitted. “I need to know if the drugs are still in my blood, and Emma didn’t come chasing me with a needle today.”

“Emma’s busy.” They walked in silence for a little while with the wind stinging their cheeks. Whitecaps rose on the lake, but with the bright blue sky, the area was stunningly beautiful. Somewhere in the distance, Christmas music lifted sweet notes into the sky. For the briefest of moments, he could pretend he was a normal soldier out for a walk with his girl.

With the only girl he’d ever love. That was for sure. Even if he managed to live past the next week, which was highly doubtful, there would never be anyone but Hope Kayrs-Kyllwood for him. Whether she knew it or not, she lived in his heart and always would.

“Are you going to tell me what’s really going on?” she asked.

He thought about it. He couldn’t. For a moment his vision wavered, and he caught himself. What was that? “We really do need to figure out what was in those darts,” he said. Whatever it was, it was messing with his head even worse than his head was normally messed with. If she only knew what he was dealing with. Well, she’d probably be furious, but she had every right to be.

“I had several nightmares last night,” she said. “And then couldn’t fall back to sleep.” So that explained the dark circles under her eyes.

He stiffened. Her nightmares should not be ignored. “Tell me about the dreams,” he said.

“No.”

He tightened his hold on her hand. “Tell me about the dreams, Hope. Now.”

“Fine,” she hissed. “Man.”

There was a time she would’ve told him automatically when she had a bad dream, before he’d been gone for the last year. He missed those times when communication was so free-flowing between them. When she came to him if she had a problem. He rubbed his free hand over his chest, which suddenly hurt.

“I dreamed about missiles and fire and blood and death,” she said slowly, her voice barely loud enough to be heard.

He stiffened. “Here?”

“I couldn’t see a location,” she whispered. “I still reported the dreams to my dad and Uncle Dage, but I don’t know. It could have been a battle from years ago, Paxton, or it could be an attack coming for us tomorrow.”

It sucked that fate gave her visions but failed to add any context. It didn’t seem fair, but then life never really was.

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