Chasing Destiny [SYTYCW15]

Skopje, Kingdom of Yugoslavia, 1941

Pain was the first thing to register as Akantha clawed her way back to consciousness. Her shoulder throbbed with pain and it felt like someone was trying to drive a stake through her. She forced her eyes open and struggled to keep them that way. A dry sob escaped her as she breathed in the blood scented air.

"Sleeping Beauty is awake," a male voice said and Akantha's stomach sank. Damianos. She didn't have the energy or desire to deal with him. She was in agony, emotionally and physically. Matheus' betrayal hurt more than the physical wounds she received. She only wanted to hide away in a safe place to lick all her wounds, but she knew he would give her no quarter.

She turned away from the voice.

"I follow you, I rescue you from the bosom of the Nazis, and I dig out the slug and stitch your wounds, yet you can't look at me," he said. His voice was soft, almost tender. "I don't know if I should be insulted or amused."

Akantha sighed and turned her head to face him. He would be irritating enough to point out her lack of manners. "You have my undivided attention," she growled.

His mouth curved into the smirk she hated so much. "And she delivers it in such a pleasant tone. How are you feeling?"

"I'm in pain," she snapped. "How do you think I'm feeling?"

"Got something for that," he said and reached for an item from the nightstand.

Akantha moved to sit up and immediately regretted it as her shoulder protested the movement with pain. She bit it back and struggled to get up into a sitting position.

"Stop hurting yourself and let me help." Damianos reached for the extra pillow and eased her up enough to place it behind her. He put a hand on her arm to help her position herself and she yanked it away. He stood there and watched her pull herself up into a reclining position, but not without a string of curses. "Stubborn as always." He shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed. He again reached for what she could now see was a tiny glass bottle on the nightstand and a capped syringe.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"The truck had a medical kit in it," he explained. "A rudimentary one, but it has morphine in it. I'm going to give you a shot for the pain."

She shook her head. "No, I don't need morphine. I need to go after the spear."

"No, you're going to have a shot of morphine and rest so you can heal."

"Damianos, we have to get the spear."

"Now it's 'we'?"

"Don't play word games with me. We have to get it!"

"I know, Akantha. As I put at least three bullets in your ex-lover, I don't think he's moving any faster than you are. You have time to heal a bit before we go after the spear."

"But..."

"For once in your life, stop being so damn stubborn!" he growled. "Please, Akantha. Let me give you some morphine."

Oddly enough, it was the please he snarled at her that made her relent. It was only when he was angry enough to let go of his placating attitude that she could believe his intentions. "Fine."

He didn't smile at his small victory. A smile would antagonize her and make their future dealings harder. He took the syringe and tiny bottle in his hands.

"Where are we?" she asked as she watched him suction some of the liquid into the syringe. He did it so efficiently that one might believe he had medical training.

"Scupi...Skopje," he answered. Sometimes he slipped and thought in terms of ancient names. Akantha did the same more often than not. It was a common habit among immortals, one they tried to break with little success. "I stole a truck and drove us here. Then I found us a place to hole up for a bit, dug the bullets out and sewed you up." He gave her a small smile. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Thank you," she said, scowling at the reminder that she was being rude. She sank back into the pillows and offered her arm.

"You know I'll always watch out for you," he told her. He gently tucked her wrist between his torso and upper arm to hold it firm. He rubbed a spot on her arm and slipped the needle in.

Akantha didn't reply. Despite being a bastard at times, he could be kind and caring, and she knew how he felt about her. At every encounter he made it a point to tell her and she refused to believe it every time. If she believed him, it would alter the way she looked at her past life. She had too much past to be

The morphine burned a little as it went in. Damianos set the syringe aside and rubbed the injection spot. He smiled as he released her arm. "It shouldn't take long."

"How did you find me?" she asked. The drug worked quickly and the pain in her shoulder subsided to a dull throb.

"I followed you from Morana's," he explained. "Kept my distance and watched. I knew you would need me."

"Bastard," she grumbled.

"There's the Akantha I know and love." His brown eyes were full of mirth.

"How'd you know?" she asked.

He shrugged, his heavy shoulders rolling easy with the motion. "A gut feeling. The whole story felt off. I couldn't let you walk into it alone."

But she hadn't been alone, she thought. She had brought her own enemy along with her. Her head bowed in silent acknowledgment of her own error in judgment.

"Tell me what happened with Matheus," he urged. His tone was soft and gentle in an effort to get her to talk.

"I don't want to talk about it, Damianos."

"Talk to me."

"I. Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. It." Matheus had been a kind and caring man, but Akantha couldn't think of one reason why he would do this. What on earth could have possibly changed the gentle knight she'd known?

"I can help you better if I know what happened," he insisted. "I need to know what he's planning so we can stop him."

"I don't need or want your help," she countered. "I'll fix this."

"No? You'd be a guest of the Reich if I hadn't been there to get you away from them. Fixing it on your own should be the last thing you consider as a next step."

She opened her mouth to counter his words, and closed it again. The bastard was right. Matheus would have held her prisoner and there was the slim chance he would have handed her over to the Nazis. Unless he considered her to be one of those problems he intended to correct and use her to test the accuracy of the Spear's legend.

Selfishness had spurred her to make Matheus immortal centuries ago and the world would pay the price if she couldn't get the spear back. She made a silent vow to never help another human being become immortal, whatever the cost.