Bane's Choice

by Alyssa Day

  The tiny pair of shorts, too, which revealed the most delicious, curvy legs he’d ever hoped to have wrapped around his waist.

  Or thrown over his shoulders.

  He swallowed, hard, when he realized his fangs were in danger of descending, and not from blood lust, either. His body had hardened, too, to the point of making his pants uncomfortably tight.

  He also felt something…wrong.

  Which made no sense.

  A beautiful, okay and possibly glowing, woman wanted him to take off his clothes.

  He wanted to fuck her.

  There was nothing wrong, and everything right, about this situation.

  He took another step toward her, but something in his gut twisted.

  What the hell?

  It had been his way of life for three centuries—to take what was freely offered.

  No.

  This—this somehow felt wrong.

  Ryan, who’d started unbuttoning her shirt, glanced up at him from beneath her lashes, and the gesture was so incredibly sexy that his cock hardened to the point of pain.

  “Why are you stopping?” She bit her lips, suddenly looking more nervous than seductive. “I get to call the shots, right? This is my hallucination, after all. Keep taking your clothes off.”

  Oh, hell no.

  “I am not a hallucination,” he ground out from between clenched teeth. “Quit calling me that.”

  She stopped unbuttoning and put her hands on her hips, because, of course, compulsion didn’t work on her. Why would anything be normal and reasonable about this enchanting, infuriating, fascinating woman?

  “You don’t get a say, buddy. You aren’t even real. I’m actually standing here arguing with my own frontal lobe. Although I have to admit you’re a lot sexier than the last frontal lobe I saw. I’m just saying. Which is lucky for you, since I dissected that sucker.”

  Bane started to feel like he was out of his depth, again, which he’d felt a lot since first encountering Dr. Ryan Gorgeous-But-Possibly-Nuts-and-Definitely-Drunk St. Cloud.

  “And you smell like flowers and sunshine, not guano,” he muttered. “Odd, for someone who’s clearly bat-shit crazy.”

  She grinned and then leapt up and threw her arms around his neck. His hands automatically lifted to catch her, and he found himself groaning at the warmth and weight of her deliciously round ass. Her hair was like silk, touching his cheek, and she was warm and soft and lovely and everything he had never known he’d always wanted.

  Then she wrapped her legs around his waist, and the torrent of electricity that shot through his body made his brain quit working.

  “Maybe, before we get naked, we should stop talking and start kissing,” she whispered. “Because if you’re a lousy kisser, the deal is off. I can’t put up with another lousy kisser, after—”

  Having no desire at all to hear about whoever the soon-to-be-dead man was who’d been a lousy kisser, Bane simply decided to shut her up.

  With his mouth.

  He’d show her that…

  Show her the…

  Show her how…

  Hell. He didn’t know what he was trying to show her.

  It was hard to show anybody anything when his entire world was exploding.

  So, instead, he just kissed her. He kissed her, and light and sound and color disappeared into a maelstrom of touch and feeling and pure, primal sensation.

  He kissed her, and she made soft little moaning noises, and his body hardened beyond want, beyond need, beyond desire, to a place he’d never been before and never wanted to leave.

  He kissed her, and suddenly he could hear and see and smell the blood, the sweet, intoxicating blood rushing through her veins, and he wanted her, needed her, must have her in all possible ways, blood and sex and possession and belonging and forever and ever and…

  BANE! BANE, WHERE ARE YOU? WE NEED YOU NOW! THE HUMAN IS WAKING UP AND FIGHTING THE TURN!

  When Meara’s voice blasted into his mind, it snapped Bane back out of the blood frenzy, but it was too late, too late, far too late, because the first thing he realized was that his fangs were already in Ryan’s neck.

  The second thing he realized was that her blood was already in his mouth, and the taste of it sparkled inside him like the finest champagne. Like dreams made liquid and distilled into ambrosia. Like…like even her blood glowed.

  But—

  The final thing he realized was that she was dead.

  And he was the one who’d killed her.

  He fell to his knees, still holding her body to him, and he roared out his anguish and despair. “No, no, not now, not her, please, no.”

  And then she stuttered out a breath.

  No, it was…a snore.

  She was snoring.

  He hadn’t killed her at all.

  He’d put her to sleep.

  Literally to sleep.

  He started to laugh.

  BANE! WE NEED YOU NOW!

  He stood, still holding Ryan, but so carefully, as if she were so fragile—so vulnerable.

  As if she were the most important person in his world.

  And then, pushing the thought aside to analyze and deny later, he called again to the Shadows and stepped back into the Between, this time carrying a sleeping human.

  Only to arrive back at the mansion just in time to see Hunter, who was somehow—impossibly—awake, slam Meara into a wall.

  And then, from clear across the room, Bane heard the sound of his sister’s spine breaking.

  Chapter Ten

  Luckily for Hunter, a broken neck didn’t kill a vampire, so Bane wouldn’t have to destroy him for it.

  Unluckily for Hunter, Edge wasn’t feeling anywhere near as generous.

  “Take her,” Bane shouted, tossing Ryan over to where Luke stood, six feet away.

  Luke caught her and shot Bane a look. “What the fuck is going on?”

  But Bane didn’t have time to chat, because he had to stop one of his brothers from killing another. He raced across the room in time to punch Hunter in the head, knocking him out, and then he caught Edge’s arm and twisted it up and behind his back before Edge could strike a killing blow on Hunter.

  “He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Bane told him. “And Meara’s fine. Look, she’s already healing.”

  Edge whirled to face Bane, his eyes wild with pain and fury. “He hurt her, and I’ll destroy him,” he snarled. “It is my right.”

  Behind Edge’s back, a popping noise signaled them both that Meara had healed her spine.

  “I think,” she rasped out, “that if it’s anybody’s right, it’s mine.”

  Edge leapt away from Bane and landed next to Meara in a crouching position that looked very far from human. “Did you just make a joke?” His voice was a harsh rasp. “He could have killed you.”

  “But he didn’t, did he?” She put a hand on Edge’s arm, but he flinched away from her.

  This time, Bane would have sworn that a flash of hurt crossed behind Meara’s eyes, but it was gone so fast he’d probably been mistaken.

  “Nobody’s destroying anyone,” Bane said, putting his shirt, which had been draped around his neck, back on. “Help me get him back to the table, and this time we’ll tie him down. I’ve never seen anybody react like this, but I’ve heard about it. It’s rare but not unknown.”

  Edge shot him a silver glare filled with contempt. “Get him back to the table yourself. But be warned: if he ever lays a hand on Meara again, I’ll kill him.”

  Meara slowly pushed herself up off the ground, ignoring the hand Edge held out to her. Her golden eyes sparked with rage. “If you think for one minute that I’m going to tolerate—”

  Edge threw back his head and roared out a sound filled with so much frustration and anger that Bane snapped into a fig
hting stance, prepared to defend Meara and everyone else in the room.

  But Edge clamped his lips together, cutting off that horrible sound, and then stood and shook his head once, then again. “No. You tolerate nothing. I’m done. I had to watch my brother die. I won’t go through that again with you.”

  With that, the scientist-turned-vampire flicked his fingers toward the window, which shattered into a thousand pieces exploding out into the dark, and then he flew out after them, disappearing into the night.

  “Well, that’s one way to make an exit,” Luke drawled. “Now, are you ready to tell me why I’m holding an armful of warm, sleeping human? And what’s wrong with her?”

  Bane snarled at Luke and then carried Hunter over to the table, tied him down more securely, and gave him enough blood to allow him to lapse back into the deep sleep of the Turn. Then he retrieved his human and carried her over to a couch and sat down, holding her in his lap, before looking at Meara and Luke.

  “Tell me. Now.”

  Meara shot him a narrow-eyed look of disbelief. “Really? Maybe you should go first, big brother, and explain to us why there’s a random human in our home.”

  Bane opened his mouth and then shut it, realizing he had no fucking idea how to answer her.

  “Well?” Meara tapped her foot. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

  He glanced down at Ryan’s sleeping face, still tasting the sweetness of her blood in his mouth. “I think…I think this human is mine. And maybe…maybe she’s not entirely human.”

  A stupid grin spread across Luke’s face, and then he started to laugh. “Oh, good. Now we’re fucked.”

  Just then, a quick knock sounded on the closed door, and then Mr. Cassidy opened the door and his wife followed him in, carrying a tray. Her eyes went immediately to the broken window, but when she realized they were all alive and—as far as she knew—unharmed, she smiled.

  “Soup?”

  …

  Ryan woke up to the quiet sounds of people carrying on a conversation and to the smell of chicken soup. She opened her eyes and discovered that she was wrapped in a very warm blanket in a very hot room and was possibly in danger of suffocating or suffering heat stroke at any minute.

  She also had the headache and upset stomach from Hell, not to mention vague memories of hallucinating a hot guy in her living room who kissed her and…bit her neck?

  She sat up, flinging blankets and pillows to the floor, and then jumped to her feet, whirling around to scan the little alcove, which held only the couch and a small table. She needed to figure out where the hell she was, because this was definitely not her place or the hospital, and she didn’t think Heaven’s waiting room looked like a portrait gallery in a museum. But she wouldn’t be in Heaven, or even Hell, from a damn hangover. She hadn’t crossed the line from drunk to alcohol poisoning.

  She shook her head, which hurt like hell, and, suddenly, it all rushed back.

  The hallucination at the hospital. The man in her house.

  “You’re awake.”

  She shrieked and jumped back, turning at the same time, and almost stumbled, which made both her head and her stomach very unhappy.

  “It’s you.”

  He stood there—Bane—his shirt back on, thankfully, but otherwise looking exactly the same as he had before. Unfairly gorgeous, and not at all like his mouth tasted like something had crawled in it and died, unlike hers.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “It’s me.”

  He made no move to touch her; in fact, he put his hands in his pockets when he caught her looking at them.

  “So.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not drunk, just hideously hungover now, so I’m guessing you’re not a hallucination.”

  “Ha! If only,” a female voice called out. A moment later, the woman who belonged to the voice walked around the corner and swept a bemused glance over Ryan’s pajama-clad, wild-haired self.

  “This is not at all your usual human,” the woman said to Bane. And then, to Ryan, “Meara Delacourt. I’m pleased to meet you. If you’d like to borrow, ah, anything? My bathroom is down the stairs on the right. Maybe soap. Or mouthwash.”

  A hot wave of shame washed over Ryan at the snide comment, but she’d been belittled by far worse than the human fashion doll standing in front of her, so she simply smiled and gave Meara a Southernism. “Bless your heart. I’d be delighted to take you up on that, about half-past never. Now who the hell are you people, where am I, and which one of you is going to call me a car or taxi, since I don’t appear to have my phone with me?”

  Unexpectedly, Meara started laughing. “Well, the little human has a spine, does she? And look, Dr. St. Cloud, I know perfectly well that bless your heart means kiss my ass in Savannah, so don’t think you’re getting away with anything.”

  The woman was unbelievably beautiful—a tall, blond, goddess, everything Ryan was not—and jealousy mixed with envy for a nasty minute in Ryan’s pathetic, hungover brain, but then she remembered that she was standing in her pajamas in a strange place with people she didn’t know, and there were therefore more important things to worry about.

  Speaking of things to worry about…

  “Why do you keep calling me a ‘little human’? Is that opposed to a supermodel-tall human, like yourself? Are you making short-people jokes? Who the hell are you people?”

  Meara’s astonishing golden eyes widened, and she turned to Bane. “She doesn’t know who you are? I mean, it’s not unusual for you not to tell them that you’re a vampire, but they usually at least know your name.”

  Ryan started slow clapping. “Very funny. And for your next trick, we’ll all go out to Bonaventure Cemetery and leave presents for the ghost of Little Gracie.”

  Bane took a step toward her but stopped when she held up a hand. “No. Stay away, or I’ll call the police. Clearly, you kidnapped me when I was passed out drunk, but I seem to be okay, so we’ll just call it even if you call me a taxi or car. Now. And stay away from me—far away from me—while I wait outside on the porch for it to arrive.”

  “She doesn’t believe we’re vampires, Bane. I mean, we always have to remove their memories after, but it’s at least fun to watch them get all scared and run around screaming,” Meara said in a voice filled with glee to match the huge smile on her face.

  “Don’t scare the human, Meara,” Bane growled. “Ryan, I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted this to go. I had to get back here, to help Hunter, but first I kissed you, and then your blood—Damn it. This is not how I wanted to explain.”

  Ryan tried to speak, but her throat had suddenly quit working. In fact, her legs quit working, too, and she stumbled back and fell onto the couch. “You had to help Hunter. Would that be Hunter Evans?”

  “Yes.”

  “The firefighter?”

  Bane blew out a sigh but then nodded. “Yes.”

  Ryan stood on legs that were no longer shaky at all. Because she was no longer a hungover woman caught in a situation she didn’t understand.

  Now she was a doctor, and she had a patient to protect.

  “Take me to him.”

  “Good job explaining this,” Meara said sweetly.

  Bane shook his head. “No. You don’t understand. I—”

  Ryan clenched her hands into fists. “Take me to him. Right. Fucking. Now.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why? Is he dead? Did you kill him?” Ryan realized she’d started shouting, but she couldn’t help it.

  Meara rolled her eyes and reached out and grabbed Ryan by the arm in an unbreakable grip. “No, he’s not dead. Bane saved him, much to my dismay. But he’s soon to be a vampire, like the rest of us. See?”

  With that, the woman smiled widely, and Ryan watched in shock as perfectly realistic-looking fangs snapped down and into place where Meara’s canine teeth should have been.

 
“I don’t—are those—so, big deal.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “You can probably buy those at six different shops on Broughton Street.”

  Meara threw her head back and laughed.

  Bane pointed to the door across the room. “Out.”

  “But—”

  His eyes started glowing that hot blue again, and Meara sighed. “Fine. But can I play with her when you’re done with her?”

  “Out!”

  She left, but she laughed all the way across the room.

  Ryan folded her arms and waited until Meara was gone, and then she repeated her demand. “Take me to see my patient. Now. And enough of this vampire bullshit.”

  “Ryan. Dr. St. Cloud. You need to listen to me before I take you anywhere,” Bane said, subtly moving to block her way when she tried to storm past him.

  “I don’t need to listen to anything. I need to see—”

  “You need to see this,” he snarled, grabbing her arms and yanking her against his chest. “You need to know. Now.”

  She shoved against him, but his grip was like steel. Finally, she decided she’d go along until she could escape and call the police, so she took a long, slow breath and nodded. “Fine. I need to know. What is it I need to know?”

  He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to look into her eyes.

  “The vampire thing. It isn’t bullshit.”

  And then he opened his mouth and showed her his fangs.

  Up close and personal.

  Still, she might have believed they were fakes, too, except for the part where he lifted her into his arms and floated up into the air.

  Levitated up in the air. Holy crap!

  She clutched his shoulders and a vicious rush of vertigo swept through her. She closed her eyes and fought to keep from being sick.

  Suddenly, still floating in the air, a horrible realization smashed into her terrified, alcohol-fogged brain. “You really are a vampire, aren’t you? And you killed him, didn’t you? You killed Hunter Evans, and now you’re going to kill me?”

  Bane closed his eyes and bent his head to rest his forehead against hers for a moment while she tried to come to grips with her new reality and probable impending murder.