1
" Cliff looked around for the woman he’d seen helping the others and saw no sign of her. Swearing, he tore through the wreckage in search of her. An explosion took out more of the ceiling. Rubble rained down on the other side of the pile he dug through. “Come on,” he whispered. “Where are you?”
A moan reached his ears, followed by a cough.
Leaping toward it, he grabbed slabs of concrete and flooring and tossed them aside, reducing the pile until he found her.
Dust coated her like ash, powdering her braid and turning her skin a grayish white. She blinked up at him. Her forehead glistened with blood that oozed from a gash on one side.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “I’m here to help. Don’t be afraid.”
Her chin dipped in a brief nod.
Another explosion hit what was left of the ground floor.
Cliff swiftly leaned over to shield her as flaming bits rained down around them.
As soon as it stopped, he knelt beside her.
“Y-Your eyes are glowing.”
“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. I just want to help. Are you injured?” He swept his hands over her in a quick, impersonal search for injuries, concerned by the splotches of blood that marred her clothing.
“Th-there’s a woman,” she said. “Sadie. Sh-she’s old. She can’t make it down the stairs.”
“I already got her to safety. Are you Emma?”
Surprise lit her dark brown eyes as she nodded.
“I think your arm is broken, Emma. I need to bind it.” Tearing a strip of cloth from his T-shirt, he wrapped it around a deep gash on her arm. Then he tore another and—preternaturally fast—fashioned a sling.
She moaned.
“Sorry,” he said, knowing every movement caused her pain.
Nodding, she gritted her teeth. Her lips pressed tightly together as he lifted her into his arms, spawning even more pain.
“I’m sorry,” he said again as he dashed over to the elevator shaft.
She looped her free arm around his neck and looked over his shoulder. Her hold tightened. “Mercenaries,” she whispered in his ear, her warm breath sending a shiver through him.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll keep you safe. "
― Dianne Duvall , Cliff's Descent (Immortal Guardians, #11)
4
" Reaching up, he clasped her hand and pressed her palm to his lips. He closed his eyes as he kissed it, then just held it there. “I don’t want that to be who I am,” he murmured despondently.
“That isn’t who you are.”
Opening his eyes, he lowered their clasped hands to his thigh. “It’s just going to get worse, Emma. You know it is.”
Leaning in close, she held his gaze. “If it does, we’ll face it together.”
He shook his head. “This isn’t the life I want for you. Always waiting for the next outburst, the next psychotic break. Watching me lose every bit of myself that you fell in love with.”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
“Emma,” he said, his expression tortured, “you have to face the reality of my future. I’ve been with the network for almost four years. They were studying the virus and seeking a cure long before they found me. And they’ve made no progress since then beyond finding a sedative that can knock me out. The chances of us having a happy ending together are infinitesimally small.”
She swallowed hard, everything within her rebelling against his forecast. “I’ll take those chances if it means I’ll have more time with you.” When he would’ve spoken—another protest no doubt—she again touched his lips. “If it were me, would you walk away?”
He recoiled slightly as though appalled by the mere thought of it. “What?”
“You heard me. If I was the one infected with the vampiric virus and I was the one in the surveillance video we just watched, would you walk away?”
He stared at her helplessly. “No.”
“Why?”
He exhaled a sigh of defeat. “Because I would want every moment I could have with you.”
“Then what would you do instead?”
“Fight like hell to keep you sane.”
“Exactly.” Moving over, she settled herself sideways on his lap and pulled his arms around her. “You’re strong, Cliff.” She held out an arm, flexed her biceps in an exaggerated show of muscle, and arched a brow. “I’m strong, too.”
His expression lightened. “Yes, you are.”
“Together, we can do anything. We can fight this. We can beat this. Even though you may think it’s futile, we have to give Melanie and the other doctors more time.” She pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “I know it’s hard, honey, and that things may get worse. But I’ll be here to help you through it. All of it.” She kissed him again. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Those eyes of his brightened further as he dipped his head and claimed her lips in a longer, deeper kiss. "
― Dianne Duvall , Cliff's Descent (Immortal Guardians, #11)
7
" Emma settled herself sideways on his lap and pulled his arms around her. “You’re strong, Cliff.” She held out an arm, flexed her biceps in an exaggerated show of muscle, and arched a brow. “I’m strong, too.”
His expression lightened. “Yes, you are.”
“Together, we can do anything. We can fight this. We can beat this. Even though you may think it’s futile, we have to give Melanie and the other doctors more time.” She pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “I know it’s hard, honey, and that things may get worse. But I’ll be here to help you through it. All of it.” She kissed him again. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Those eyes of his brightened further as he dipped his head and claimed her lips in a longer, deeper kiss. "
― Dianne Duvall , Cliff's Descent (Immortal Guardians, #11)
14
" You need to add a quiet room down here," Bastien drawled.
Yes, they did.
"Why?" Chris asked. "For interrogation purposes?"
"Okay," Bastien replied, voice bland.
A moment passed. Then..."Oh hell no," Reordon blurted. "I am not spending tens of thousands of dollars to soundproof a room down here so you two can have sex without the vampires hearing you."
"You want the vampires to hear us?"
Cliff and the other vampires laughed.
"No," Chris sputtered. "I mean, I don't want you having sex! Not while you're both on the clock. Melanie is supposed to be working-"
"She is." Bastien defended her, an edge entering his voice. "Long hours."
"And you are supposed to be serving as guard. Seven vampires live across the hallway. What are you going to do if a couple of them have psychotic breaks and try to escape while you two are having a quickie?"
"Chase them down bare-ass naked and give the human guards an eyeful."
That was one hell of an incentive not to escape.
"I don't know about you," one fo the new vamps said in his apartment down the hallway, "but I'm pretty sure even total mind-fuck madness wouldn't make me risk that guy chasing me down and tackling me while he's naked and has a hard-on. "
― Dianne Duvall , Cliff's Descent (Immortal Guardians, #11)
15
" A loud knock shook her door.
Emma damn near jumped off the sofa. Her neck popped as she jerked her head around to stare at the door with wide eyes. Her heart began to slam against her ribs as fear trickled through her.
Who the hell would be knocking on her door this late at night?
Who the hell would be knocking on her door at any time of day or night?
No one she knew would do so without calling first. And deliverymen and women didn’t drop off packages at freaking midnight.
As quickly and quietly as a mouse, she darted into her bedroom and grabbed the 9mm her father had bought her and trained her to use. Flicking off the safety, she returned to the living room and swung by the coffee table to tuck her phone in her pajama pants pocket in case she needed to call 911. Only then did she cautiously approach the door.
Another knock thundered through the house.
Adrenaline spiking, she peered through the door’s peephole.
Shock rippled through her. “Oh shit,” she whispered. Setting the gun on the coatrack bench beside her, she hastily unlocked the dead bolt, then the knob, and flung open the door.
Cliff stood before her, his big body blocking her view of the yard.
Emma gaped up at him.
He wore the standard blacks of network guards covered with a long black coat similar to that of an Immortal Guardian. His face, neck, and hands were streaked with blood. His clothing glistened with wet patches. And his eyes shone bright amber.
She had never seen them so bright and knew it meant that whatever emotion roiled inside him was intense.
Panic consumed her. “Cliff,” she breathed. Stepping onto the porch, she swiftly glanced around, terrified she might see soldiers in black approaching with weapons raised.
When none materialized, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside.
Her hands shook as she closed and bolted the door, her fingers leaving little streaks of blood on the white surface.
Spinning around, she stared up at him. “What happened? Are you hurt?” Her gaze swept over him, noting every wet patch on his clothing, every ruby-red splotch on his skin. Was that his blood or someone else’s? “How did you get here? Are you hurt?” Closing the distance between them, she began to run her hands over his chest in search of wounds.
Cliff grabbed her wrists to halt her frantic movements. His glowing eyes dropped to the points at which they touched. He drew his thumbs over her skin as if to confirm she was real. Then he met her gaze. “I need your shower,” he said, voice gruff.
Heart pounding, she nodded. As soon as he released her, she pointed. “It’s through there.”
Without another word, he strode toward it. His heavy boots thudded loudly in the quiet as he entered the short hallway, then turned in to the bathroom. The door closed. Water began to pound tile.
Emma didn’t move.
Cliff was here. In her home. What the hell had happened? "
― Dianne Duvall , Cliff's Descent (Immortal Guardians, #11)
