Page 40 of Wake the Dream

Her sweat, the faint tang of fear, and the heavy dankness of something rotting drifted toward him.

Although her cheeks were red and her skin somewhat mottled, she appeared otherwise unharmed. Kieran pushed through the wall.

“What happened?” he yelled. Stumbling to a halt in front of her, he ran dirt-flecked hands over her arms, smearing brown in his wake. For some reason, he couldn’t help howling in her face. “How did you get in here? Why are you in here?”

Illaria jerked her wrists to bring his attention to the straps. Scrambling, Kieran fought to undo them until he’d freed her, then hauled her to him. She appeared too small against him, too petite to be in such a situation. A situation he’d allowed her to fall into.

“I know I shouldn’t have followed him alone,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “It was totally stupid of me.”

Kieran reached out to take her hands and smoothly flattened their palms against each other, interlocking his fingers with hers. His hands were callused but sturdy, hers soft and dainty. Their entwined hands rested between them. “Then why did you?” he asked.

“Because the vampire—”

His eyes bulged. They pinned her down, showing concern. “You came alone and let a vampire strap you down?” He couldn’t resist a little shake. Maybe it would knock some sense into her. “You must be insane, woman. Utterly insane. You have to know better than to go anywhere with a vampire.”

“Look, I can handle myself.” There was something she held back, something causing her gaze to flitter across the room and land on anything but him. “He said something about wanting to wake up. And mentioned my sister.”

Kieran eased her back to stare at her, to search her face for any indication of what she thought or felt in the moment. Any probe to give him insight on what she chose to hide from him. His senses reached out for something familiar, a little hint to give him an edge. And found nothing.

“You need to tell me everything,” he said slowly.

Her face and voice didn’t change, but she replied, “I will. But not here. Not now.” A shadow darted across his harsh face.

She shivered, and only then did he notice the frigid air in the little room. Although chilled himself, Kieran shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Stay here,” he demanded. “I’m going to get someone to sweep the room for clues. If that vampire really did have your sister, we’ll find evidence.”

Before he had a chance to leave, Illaria bent down and pointed to a small scrap nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the rubble. “Here. Have your men test this.”

Kieran called out for assistance and a young detective came in wearing blue latex gloves. The man bagged the evidence to avoid further contamination. “Are you going to tell me what that is?” Kieran asked Illaria.

“It was a grape. Some kind of Bual, I think he said.”

“You want me to believe a vampire can distinguish different varieties of grape by sight alone?”

“The color was different. Gold and green. I wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t said anything, but it gives us something to go on.”

“That looked more like a scrap of garbage than a grape,” he grumbled.

“Yes, when he dropped it, something happened. I’m telling you, Kieran, I was close to figuring out what happened to Yelena.”

He didn’t want to let her go. Not after he’d nearly lost her in this place. “Then let’s hope the evidence isn’t contaminated beyond use.” He sighed, a spasm of pain ricocheting between his shoulder blades and down to his hips. Another long day for the log book and only getting longer. He’d need to file his report tonight while the details remained fresh in his memory.

“Don’t do that, Kieran.”

He blinked. “Don’t do what? I’m just standing here.”

“Don’t look at me like you wish I hadn’t come. Like it’s your fault a vampire had me. I’m fine, okay?” Illaria tugged the hem of her dress lower and Kieran’s attention fell on the bruises on her wrists from where she’d been strapped down.

Red obscured his vision. Whoever had hurt her would pay dearly.

With his hand on the small of her back, he led her out of the room, ignoring the curious glances of his coworkers.

“What’s this, Shanahan? You find a prostitute and keep her for yourself? Of all the luck!”

Pembroke still laughed as Illaria marched forward, crossing the distance in three steps, and punched him right in the nose. Blood spurted instantly and the other man stumbled, with both hands reaching up to cover his face.

“Let’s go,” Kieran said hurriedly, hustling Illaria toward the door.

“Holy shit! The bitch broke my nose!”

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