Raphael Parish Page 7
He battled back the red haze that demanded blood and tearing flesh and crunching bones.
Before he ripped the bastard apart he needed information.
“Because she carries my child?”
“Because she carries the magic.”
“Magic?” He frowned, baffled by the unexpected words. “What magic?”
The man narrowed his gaze, belatedly realizing he’d given away more than he intended.
“I’ll find her.” He lifted the gun. “But first I intend to rid the world of an abomination.”
He squeezed the trigger at the same instant that Raphael leaped forward.
It shouldn’t have been a contest.
Raphael was bigger, stronger, and infinitely better trained.
But whatever drug was coursing through his body had done more than put his cat to sleep. His movements were awkward, lethargic.
He slammed into the bastard even as the bullet sliced through his upper shoulder. Pain seared through him, but wrapping his arms around the man, Raphael drove him into the ground, landing on top of him.
He knocked aside the gun, wrapping his fingers around the man’s thick throat.
“Who sent you to kill Ashe?”
The man laughed, the fetid stench of ‘wrongness’ intensifying.
“This is bigger than you,” he choked out, his eyes simmering with the madness of a true fanatic. “This is bigger than all of us.”
Raphael tightened his grip, battling back the growing weakness that threatened his survival.
“Tell me who sent you, dammit,” he roared.
Without warning the man jerked his upper body off the ground, smashing his forehead into Raphael’s with enough force to make him see stars.
Giving a shake of his head, Raphael suddenly found himself being rolled onto his back, the man holding him down as he reached for the gun that lay a few feet away.
Oh…hell.
Raphael wanted answers, but the combination of the unknown poison and the blood loss from his wound was taking its toll.
If he didn’t kill the man quickly, he was the one who was going to end up in a soggy grave.
Clearing his double vision, Raphael bared his teeth. He was going to rip off the man’s head and feed it to the gators.
The satisfying thought had barely formed in his mind when he caught a familiar scent and his heart forgot how to beat.
Goddammit. That stubborn female was going to get locked in his house and never let out again.
He gathered his waning strength, desperately grasping his attacker’s arms to keep him from reaching the gun. At the same time, Ashe stepped into view, her arms held over her head as she swung a heavy stick toward the back of the man’s head.
There was sickening crunch as the skull busted at the impact, and the man’s eyes glazed.
Raphael didn’t hesitate. Grabbing the man’s face, he jerked his head to the side with enough force to snap his neck. Instantly the stranger went limp and Raphael tossed his dead body aside.
Rising to his feet, he stepped over the corpse so he could glare down at his mate in frustration.
“I thought I told you to run?”
She rolled her eyes, tossing the stick aside so she could wrap an arm around his waist. Only then did he realize that he was swaying like a drunkard.
“You know how well I take orders,” she reminded him with a wry smile.
He brushed his lips over the top of her head, allowing her to keep him balanced as they continued their interrupted journey through the bayou.
Once he reached the Wildlands he would send someone back to check the body for a brand.
For now he had to get Ashe to the safety of his people.
“That’s something we’re going to have to work on,” he assured her.
She tilted back her head to meet his weary smile.
“Together.”
“Together,” he breathed, wondering if a word had ever sounded so sweet.
Leaning against each other, they managed to stumble their way through the swamp, combining their strength as only a truly mated pair could.
They reached the Wildlands just as the sun crested the horizon, and Raphael wasn’t remotely surprised when a cat padded forward to greet them.
Dark as the shadows, the lethal feline regarded them with a predatory gaze.
Then, with a low roar the creature surrounded itself in a silvery mist, shifting to reveal a tall, grim-faced warrior.
“So it’s true, Raphael. You return with a mate and a child,” the leader of the Hunters drawled with a taunting smile. “I don’t know whether to congratulate you or have you thrown into the psych ward.”
“And a happy fucking hello to you, Parish.”
With a shared chuckle, they stepped into the Wildlands, the magic wrapping around them as overhead a raven screeched in fury.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alexandra Ivy is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Guardians of Eternity series, as well as the upcoming Sentinel series. Alexandra Ivy graduated from Truman University with a degree in theatre before deciding she preferred to bring her characters to life on paper rather than stage. An active member of RWA, she also writes under the name of Deborah Raleigh. She lives in Missouri with her husband and family.
Book list:
Guardians of Eternity
Darkness Avenged
June 4, 2013, Zebra
ISBN 978-1420111385
Fear the Darkness
September 1,2012, Zebra
ISBN 978-1420111378
Bound by Darkness
December 6,2011, Zebra
ISBN 978-1420111361
The Real Werewives of Vampire County
November 2011, Kensington
ISBN 978-0758261588
Supernatural
September 2011, Kensington
ISBN 978-1420109887
Yours for Eternity
September 2011, Kensington
ISBN 978-1420112283
Devoured by Darkness
November 2010, Zebra Paranormal
ISBN 978-1420111354
Beyond the Darkness
April 2010, Zebra Paranormal
ISBN 978-1420102987
Darkness Unleashed
November 2009, Zebra Paranormal
ISBN 978-1420102970
Darkness Revealed
March 2009, Zebra Paranormal
ISBN 978-1-4201-0296-3
Darkness Everlasting
May 2008, Zebra Paranormal
ISBN 978-0-8217-7939-2
Embrace the Darkness
November 2007, Zebra Paranormal
ISBN-10: 0821779370
ISBN-13: 978-0821779378
When Darkness Comes
January 2007, Zebra Paranormal
ISBN 0-8217-7935-4
Immortal Rogues Series
* Please note this series is a reprint from the 2003 Historical Vampire Series written as Deborah Raleigh *
My Lord Vampire
#1 in the Immortal Rogues Series
February 28, 2012, Zebra
ISBN 978-1420122718
My Lord Eternity
#2 in the Immortal Rogues Series
December 4, 2012, Zebra
ISBN 978-1-4201-2861-1
My Lord Immortality
#3 in the Immortal Rogues Series
December 31, 2012, Zebra
ISBN 978-1-4201-2272-5
Sentinel Series
Predatory
Sentinel Anthology
May 7, 2013
ISBN 978-1-4201-2512-2
PARISH
BY LAURA WRIGHT
CHAPTER 1
THE baby emerged writhing and covered in amniotic fluid. Cradling the child, unable to curb the proud and relieved smile breaking on her sweaty face, Dr. Julia Cabot reached across the bed and placed him on his weary mother’s belly and chest. Annette, one of the three nurses assisting, quickly covered him with a blanket, then suct
ioned his nose and mouth with a bulb syringe. In seconds, a hearty wail erupted from the infant, the welcome sound pinging off the walls and calling forth a duet of sighs from the baby’s father and aunt.
Twenty-one hours of hard labor. This woman’s a freaking rock star. Julia glanced at the clock. “9:51 pm.”
“Got it,” Annette said, scribbling on the chart. “Do you want me to get his scores now, Doc?”
“Right on his mom’s chest will be fine.” Julia returned to her work, another nurse assisting as she delivered the placenta. “So, Mrs. Dubroux, do you have a name for your beautiful boy?”
“Garth,” the woman said, pulling her gaze from her little love and looking up at her husband. “Garth Allan Dubroux, just like his daddy.”
The man beamed.
“Nines across the board, Doc,” Annette announced, making the note in her chart.
“Well, well, you’ve got a strong one there,” Julia said, pulling off her gloves and letting the nurse take over with the cleaning. She walked around to the side of the bed and eyed the precious new family member. “Welcome to the world, Garth.”
As the baby rooted around on her chest, Mrs. Dubroux smiled up at Julia, tears brightening her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“You’re a godsend, Doctor Cabot,” Mr. Dubroux added, his arm tightening around his wife’s shoulders. “Marilyn would’ve been in the surgery room if it wasn’t for you.”
“It was my pleasure,” Julia said, trying to hold back the wave of emotion and sadness at such a lovely ending to her career at New Orleans General. “One of the nurses will help you with breastfeeding if you need it, and Doctor Salander will be coming in to check on the both of you very soon.” She gave them one last smile. “Congratulations, and good luck.”
“Nice work, Doc,” Annette said as they left the room. “Never seen anyone turn a baby like that. You have a gift.”
Julia headed for the nurses’ station. She needed to fill out some paperwork before she was done for the night. Before she was done, period. She didn’t want to be rude, but talking about her work right now…well, it was too painful. She was going to miss this place, the staff, the patients.
Sidling up next to her, Annette clucked her tongue as she watched Julia scribble on Marilyn Dubroux’s chart. “Damn shame. Best baby doctor this hospital’s ever seen.”
The words pinged inside Julia’s heart. She was good at her job because she believed in it so much, truly cared about each and every new family that came to the hospital. She wanted their first moments as a unit to be special because after they left, when they got home, sometimes things changed.
“You want to stay at my place tonight, Sugar?”
Julia turned to face the nurse. With her beehive of graying brown hair and warm, chocolate eyes, Annette Monty was hard to resist. She had that kind of older woman, motherly charm that was so irresistible to one who’d lost her own mother at a young age. But encouraging a connection that was just days away from being severed wasn’t wise.
“Thanks, Annette,” Julia said, giving the woman a soft smile. “But I have a hotel room.”
“He paying for it?”
The sour note in Annette’s voice made Julia flinch. “No.”
“Bastard.”
Julia’s lips pressed together and she returned to her charts.
“The worst kind of asshole,” Annette continued.
Yes. And what a fool she’d been to believe herself in love with him.
“Wish he wasn’t my boss.” The nurse sniffed with irritation. “If I didn’t need this job, I might just walk right into that new office of his and—”
That brought Julia’s chin up once again. She eyed the woman seriously. “Don’t even think about it. You have three teenagers at home, and Dell is still recovering from knee surgery.”
Impassioned brown eyes softened. “You’re a good, kind gal, Julia Cabot. That man should be strung up from the nearest light pole for hurting you like he did—not getting a gawd damn promotion.”
Head of pediatric surgery. It was amazing how some people were rewarded for bad behavior. Dr. Gary Share: mega-talented physician, desperately disappointing man.
Annette wasn’t about to let the subject go. Keeping her voice just above a whisper, she hissed, “Brings you all the way out here from California, promises you a home and a family, and,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “takes that salope into your bed.”
A still shot flashed in Julia’s mind, the same one she’d been seeing every day and night for a week. Lunch hour, coming home to bring Gary, who’d been up all night in surgery, a hot meal. She’d heard it, heard them, the minute she’d walked into the house, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. She’d walked up those stairs, heart pounding, food clutched in her shaking hands, and into the bedroom she shared with Gary.
It’s a surreal experience to see the person you care about and trust most in the world lying on their back, legs spread, with one of the new nurses from emergency on top of them. But it’s something else entirely when they don’t even stop, when they don’t pull out or even have the decency to look horrified when they utter breathlessly, “What are you doing here, Julia? You’re supposed to be at the hospital.”
“You going to stay here in New Orleans or go back home to Hollywood country?”
Annette’s question tore Julia from her unrelenting vision, and she cleared her throat. “I haven’t decided where I’m going.”
Or when.
It was a little pathetic to admit. She’d given her notice a week ago, been living in a hotel and she couldn’t seem to plan her next move. Where should she go? Where did she belong? Her mother was dead, her father had never been in the picture, and she had no siblings, and the few friends she’d managed to make in medical school were scattered around the country. It had been the main reason she’d accepted Gary’s offer to move to New Orleans. She’d been smitten with him, surely, and the idea of a new city, a job that was waiting for her. But the one thing she’d wanted above all else was a chance to create a life, a community—a family.
Lucky little Garth.
She smiled to herself as she handed all her files to the nurse behind the desk.
“Come stay with me, Sugar,” Annette said, touching Julia’s shoulder. “One night. We can play Yahtzee, watch something with a lot of hot men running around without their shirts on, and take down that box of wine I have in my pantry.”
Julia laughed softly, shook her head. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are the sweetest, kindest and pushiest woman…” Her words died as her gaze caught sight of something down the hall. Her heart leapt into her throat.
“That they have, Sugar,” Annette continued with a soft rumble of laughter. “So what do you say? I’m off in an hour.”
Air wasn’t getting into Julia’s lungs. She tried to breathe normally, but her insides refused to cooperate. Her hands formed fists and her lips went dry. Walking down the hall toward her, all five foot eleven, perfectly cropped blond hair, pressed pants and a coldly charming smile, was the slimeball himself.
Dr. Gary.
God, what was wrong with her? Why was she reacting like this? Insecure and embarrassed? He’d screwed her over! He’d kicked her out of the house he’d made sure to keep in his name, ‘suggested’ she find a new place to work, then moved his afternoon delight in before she’d even found herself a hotel.
“Turn around, Sugar, and face me. Don’t let that towheaded rat bastard see your face.”
Annette might have been one of the bossiest, most loveable irritants around, but at that moment, Julia had never been more grateful to have her near.
* * *
Inside the empty hospital room, Parish crouched near the open doorway, nostrils flaring as he took in the scent of his prey. A delectable combination of vanilla and female sweat. A low growl vibrated in his throat.
“What are you doing, Parish?” Michel hissed behind him. “You sound feral.”
Feral? Yes. Hungry
. Always.
She smelled especially appetizing.
As he watched the human female interact with her co-worker, his body stirred, and even though Pantera couldn’t shift outside the magical boundaries of the Wildlands, his cat scratched at the base of his skull. The puma was intrigued by her, too.
Granted, he despised humans, didn’t trust them with anything but destruction, but he’d never scented anything like her—never seen something like her in his life. Skin the color of cream, hair, long and straight and sun-lightened yellow, eyes as pale blue as the bayou sky he awoke beneath every morning, and a smile that was equally sweet as it was sad. She wasn’t very tall. With the small heel on her sexy black shoes, maybe she’d reach his shoulder, but he liked that. His hands could easily wrap around her small waist as he gathered her in his arms, crushed her body to his and took off back to the Wildlands.
Another growl escaped his throat, and his breathing changed. Beside him, Michel cursed. The Suit was one of the many spies the Pantera had living and working outside the Wildlands, and was Parish’s New Orleans contact. The Political Faction of the Pantera was always on the alert, needing to know about any human-based threat to their species, or a physical one that could affect the magic of their land.
Tonight’s mission, however, was something vastly more important. The miracle the Pantera had spent over five decades praying for could finally be upon them, and the female with the addictive scent, sunlit hair and black kitten heels was the key to its success.
“Parish,” Michel said with more force than he’d shown all night. “Do I need to pull you back here?”
Parish grinned broadly. As if that were possible. “That’s my doctor.”
“Yes, but you can’t just barrel down the hospital hallway and take what you want.”
Watch me. His eyes narrowed into predatory slits and he moved forward, but Michel put a hand on his shoulder to stay him.
Parish shrugged him off, then growled, his canines vibrating with their need to drop.