Bane's Choice

by Alyssa Day

  “I’m…sorry,” he repeated, almost strangling on the words.

  And then he slammed the door between them, picked up his massive, carved, wooden bed and hurled it against the opposite wall, shattering the thick posts into kindling.

  There was a long pause, and then her light footsteps came toward the door and stopped. For one wild moment, he thought she meant to come find him—to invite him into her shower. Into her arms. Into the sunlight that surrounded her.

  But then the snick of the lock bit into him as if it had been the tip of a blade.

  She didn’t want him anywhere near her—and why would she? He’d broken into her home and abducted her. He’d mocked and threatened her. Even now, the sound of his temper smashing his enormous, two-hundred-year-old bed must have frightened her.

  He wasn’t just a monster—he was a child.

  A fool.

  “So be it, then,” he told the empty room. “I’m a monster and a fool, and it’s too far against my nature to try to be anything else, even for the delectable doctor.”

  He turned to face the bathroom door.

  …

  Ryan stared hard at the door she’d just locked, well aware of how flimsy a barrier it would be to the man who’d made the smashing noise she’d just heard. What had she gotten herself into?

  Not that she’d exactly gone out looking for vampires to taunt about matters of consent, but she had followed him down that hallway. Maybe they could put that on her tombstone or on the outside of her cremation urn:

  Here lies Ryan: If only she hadn’t followed that vampire to the bathroom.

  His voice, somehow sharp and raspy at the same time, interrupted her mental ramblings.

  “I’ll be in my study, if you need…if you need anything. There are clothes in the closet. Wear anything you want. You can roll up pants legs, or use a belt, or—”

  When his voice trailed off, she heard a thud that sounded like he’d dropped his forehead against the door. She understood the inclination.

  “Yes. Fine. Thank you,” she called out, proud that her voice barely shook at all.

  She’d argued consent with a vampire. He could have killed her with one fang, probably, and she’d stood up to him.

  Warmth spread through her. She had told him to stop—and he had. This man—this monster—who could take anything or anyone he wanted had stopped because she’d told him to stop.

  She stood, wild-eyed and wild-haired, clad in nothing but her pride and skimpy PJs, and met her own gaze in the mirror as a smile started to spread across her face.

  She’d never felt more powerful in her life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bane spent the longest twenty minutes of his life listening to the sound of the shower and then the small sounds of footsteps, drawers opening and closing, and the faint murmur of the doctor’s voice when she talked to herself.

  He couldn’t make out the words, of course. Even his superior vampire hearing couldn’t make out quietly spoken words from two rooms away, with two closed doors between them. But there was nothing wrong with his imagination, and the thought of Ryan St. Cloud in his bathroom—in his shower—using his soaps and shampoos on her deliciously wet skin and hair nearly had him crawling the ceiling in frustration.

  He wanted to smash through the doors separating them and take the towels from her hands. Dry each inch of her body. Dry her hair and brush through the long waves. Find lotions and oils and whatever else women needed and tend to her. Pamper her.

  Cherish her.

  What the actual fuck was happening to him? Cherish her?

  Ryan had been wrong. He really was running mad. If he started to see pigs fly or elephants dance, he’d skip whatever came next and just walk out into the dawn, saving hundreds if not thousands with his sacrifice. There could be nothing more deadly to walk the earth than an insane vampire as powerful as he.

  And he was very much afraid that he’d go after the woman in his shower first, in a frenzy of territorial possession and lust, and fuck her until they were both dead of it.

  She’d die so easily. Humans were far too fragile.

  He’d kill himself from the guilt.

  Yet more reasons why he should stay far, far away from her.

  He was sunk so far in his black mood that he paid little attention to the sound of approaching feet, except to note that it was friend, not foe, until the tentative knock sounded at the door to the hallway.

  He raised his head and tried to focus on anything but what was happening in that bathroom. “Come in, Mrs. Cassidy.”

  “Sorry to bother you, sir, but does the doctor wish to have breakfast? I’ve cooked up a fair feast, you know. It’s still an hour till dawn, and I thought you’d all be hungry, after what you’ve had to do with Mr. Evans.” She entered just far enough to be inside the room, but no farther. He’d made it clear that his rooms were his private sanctuary, although she’d gently bullied him into allowing her to come in and dust and clean every so often.

  “I don’t know—”

  The other door, the one he’d been watching for nearly half an hour now, opened, and Bane shot up out of his chair.

  “Breakfast, Miss? Doctor? The least we can do is feed you,” Mrs. C said, smiling.

  Ryan bit her lip. “I don’t know—is it actual food?”

  He took one look and wanted to bite that plump lip for her. Wanted it more than he’d wanted anything else in his life. He forced himself to grab the edge of the desk with both hands to help keep him from moving toward her and then had to relax his fingers when he heard wood splintering from the pressure of his grip.

  “It’s actual food. We eat, Doctor,” he said, drinking his fill of the sight of her.

  She’d put on one of his plain, white shirts and a pair of his black trousers, and both were vastly too large for her. But she’d rolled up sleeves and pant legs and belted the waist with one of his ties, which should have looked ridiculous but instead fired his territorial instincts again at seeing her in his clothes.

  Smelling her wearing the scent of his soap.

  He wanted to toss her into his bed and spend hours touching every inch of that freshly washed, rosy skin. Use that tie and others to bind her to his bed and drive her to delirious pleasure with his hands.

  His mouth.

  His cock.

  The bed that no longer existed except as a pile of scrap.

  Damn.

  She tried on a smile and crossed the room to Mrs. Cassidy, carefully walking a wide path to avoid coming too close to Bane. He deserved it, but it still pierced him in a way he didn’t understand.

  “I’m Ryan St. Cloud. I’m Hunter Evans’ doctor. I don’t really have time for breakfast, but thank you for offering. I need to see my patient and then go home. If you’ll pardon me, I’ll be on my way.”

  “I’m Mrs. Cassidy. Nice to meet you.”

  And then, before Bane even realized what was happening, Ryan slipped past Mrs. C and was gone.

  “Damn that woman,” he groaned, starting after her. “She never does what I expect.”

  Mrs. C moved aside to let him pass but didn’t bother to hide her smile. “And how boring would that be if she did? I think it’s about time you found a woman who challenges you.”

  “It’s not—she’s not— She’s not a woman. She’s a doctor.” He didn’t bother to argue any further, because nothing in his brain made sense, and he could already hear Mrs. C laughing behind him.

  Apparently, it was the day for people to laugh at him. Usually, when that had happened in the past, there’d been a lot of the screaming and running Meara so liked.

  Ahead of him, Ryan turned to enter the ballroom, and the next sound he heard was her shouting his name. He raced into the room and yanked her into his arms, fangs fully descended, muscles tense.

  “What? What happened
?”

  Ryan, who’d started bullheadedly struggling to get away from him the moment he’d picked her up, pointed.

  “Look!”

  It was Hunter. Lying on the table. But not the Hunter they’d left in the care of Lucas such a little time before. Now, the former human, former firefighter looked like nothing more than a mummified skeleton, and an exhausted-looking Luke slept on the floor next to the table.

  “What happened to him?”

  Bane sighed with more than a little relief and released the doctor. “Finally. Now he can complete the Turn.”

  She whirled to face him. “What? This is normal? He looks like he died twenty years ago!”

  “I know. The Turn devours the human blood of its host during the process, and then we will have to replenish his blood with ours. It’s…tricky.”

  “Tricky? It’s tricky?” Her beautiful blue eyes, so different in shade from his own, widened, and he lost the sense of her words when he fell into her gaze, drowning in the liquid dark—sinking into her intensity—into her passion.

  How long had it been since he’d seen such passion?

  How long since it had been directed at him?

  “Can I examine him? Is there any point? Does he even have blood pressure like that?”

  Why did she keep asking him questions, when all he wanted to do was watch the shapes her mouth made when she spoke?

  She pounded a fist on his chest, snapping him out of his mental trance. “Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

  “Not really,” he admitted, reaching out to touch one long, damp strand of her hair and then pulling his hand back. He had not asked to touch it.

  It occurred to him that this, at least, was one thing he could rectify.

  “May I?”

  “May you what? Bane, I have no idea what’s going on here, but every medical instinct in my body, every ounce of education and training, is telling me that we have to get him to the emergency room. We need—”

  “May I touch your hair?” The answer to his question was suddenly the most important answer in the world. “And believe me when I tell you that taking him to the hospital now would kill him. This is a vital part of the process and gives me reassurance that he will survive it.”

  Her enormous eyes were filled with doubt. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” he said, what little patience he had waning. “I’ve done this several times over the centuries, Doctor. Now. Your hair. May I?”

  She blinked and then opened and shut her beautiful mouth a couple of times. “You want to touch my hair. Now.”

  “Yes. And I did ask,” he pointed out, moving a step closer but careful not to crowd her.

  “Is this really the time?” She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes, but he could sense a thread of excitement and maybe even anticipation beneath her outward impatience. Not to mention the faint golden glow that began to shimmer faintly on—or maybe beneath—her skin. The doctor was no more immune to him than she was fully human, this much he knew.

  And—in spite of himself—he treasured the knowledge. Now, he wanted to demand. Instead, he decided to coax.

  Maybe even a monster was capable of learning?

  “Please?”

  She blew out a long breath, glanced back at Luke and Hunter again, and then squared her shoulders. “I think this is a bad idea, but because you said please. And because you stopped when I said no in that bathroom. And because of the shower and the clothes and… Okay. Just…okay,” she finished, her voice all but inaudible.

  He leaned in and inhaled her scent and completely forgot about manners and consent and coaxing.

  “You will let me touch you whenever I please,” he demanded instead, forcing every ounce of his power and compulsion into his voice.

  She swayed a little but then quirked one corner of her mouth in a lopsided grin. “Keep trying. I’m sure somebody is going to listen to your enthralling voice sometime. And yes.”

  “And yes?”

  She drew in another breath, this one shaky. “You can touch my hair.”

  He stilled to motionlessness and stood, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks. Her lush curves pushing at his shirt that she wore. Her bare feet and their silly purple toenails.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, and then he reached out a hand. Took one long, wavy strand and slid his fingers down damp silk. Released it and watched it spring back into its curl.

  Immediately regretted the loss of its touch.

  Her breath stuttered, and he could hear her heart speed up, could see the glow of her skin intensify, but she only nodded.

  “And now, can we have breakfast?” Mrs. C’s cheery voice rang out behind Bane, and he almost laughed at the thought that his housekeeper had been able to sneak up on him, unnoticed, when dangerous enemies had never accomplished the feat in all the centuries of his existence. He’d entirely forgotten she was in the hallway behind him.

  Then again, he’d never faced such a distraction.

  Ryan bit her lip again, and he had to fight not to touch her lips with his fingers or with his own mouth. He wanted to soothe the tiny bite with his tongue. With his kiss.

  Instead, he smiled at her. “Breakfast? Please?”

  Having once said the word, the second time was easier.

  She offered a tentative smile of her own, and it was as if the sun itself had decided to shine through the roof of his home and down upon him. He wanted to curl up in the warmth of her smile and stay there for hours.

  Days.

  “Mrs. C,” he said instead. “Do you see how the doctor’s skin is glowing?”

  “What?”

  “Enough with the glowing,” Ryan said, rolling her eyes.

  “Bane, I think maybe you gave too much blood,” his housekeeper said tentatively.

  He blew out a sigh. Maybe he had. But…

  “I made pancakes and bacon,” Mrs. C coaxed, interrupting his train of thought.

  “Well. I do love pancakes and bacon,” Ryan said. “Is there coffee?”

  “All the coffee you could ever want to drink,” his housekeeper told his…the…doctor, who turned back to Bane.

  “And Mr. Evans? He’ll be all right? You’re sure?”

  “I’m very sure. This is not the first time I’ve done this,” he repeated.

  Her shoulders relaxed, just a fraction, but she finally nodded. “All right. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but scientific curiosity is winning out over self-preservation.” She shrugged, which did interesting things to her breasts.

  Bane concentrated on trying very hard not to stare at them or—worse—take them in his hands. If she’d known how hard that internal battle was, she would have fled in terror. Luckily, she wasn’t psychic, because she smiled at Mrs. Cassidy instead.

  “Okay. In for a penny, as they say. Let’s have breakfast, and you can tell me everything I need to know. Give me the Vampires for Dummies version, okay?”

  With that, Ryan moved past him and toward Mrs. C.

  “So, what kind of coffee? Do you have cream and sugar? Are there potatoes? Can you put garlic in the potatoes, or is that a no-no? And what can I do to help? I’m a pretty good touch with scrambled eggs and toast, and I can carve up a ham like nobody’s business. Surgical skills translate into good kitchen knife skills, you know?”

  Bane closed his eyes and drank in the sounds of their voices for a long moment as they headed down the stairs to the kitchen.

  “This can’t end well,” Luke said quietly. Perhaps he’d been feigning sleep. “You know that, but I’m going to remind you, whether you kill me for it or not. You remember what happened to me.”

  “There will be no end, well or otherwise, because there’s no beginning. She’s just a diversion, and she may have some interesting medical information we can use. Don’t you
think it’s about time we looked at our…condition…from a scientific perspective?”

  Luke’s laugh was filled with honest amusement. “Our condition? Do you really think we have a blood disease that causes what we are?”

  Bane turned his gaze to the withered husk of the body on the table.

  Another mistake?

  Perhaps.

  Probably.

  Ryan, though…bringing her here was almost certainly a mistake, too. One that he admitted, if only to himself, that he was making with full knowledge of all the reasons why he should not.

  But the touch of her hair…

  “No,” he finally said, offering up the only truth he could share. “There is magic in what we are. But perhaps there is science, as well. After three centuries, I’d like to know.”

  “And that’s all?”

  He wouldn’t answer that question, though, not for Luke. Not even for himself. Instead, he nodded at Hunter. “Let’s get him into the warded room, now. We can’t watch him for every minute of three days, with everything else going on.”

  There was a club meeting coming up that night, and he was startled to realize he’d almost forgotten it until now. The club’s mission was vital to who they were and what they did.

  Luke, who was the vice president of the Vampire Motorcycle Club, nodded. “Yeah. We need to talk about the Chamber. Our people are wondering what the hell is going on, and the rumors are flying fast and furious.”

  Bane’s vision skewed to a brilliant scarlet. “We need to find this Constantin. Fast. Any progress?”

  “Not yet, but we will. Edge is on the job with the computers, and I’ve got word out to all the usual sources.” Luke scowled. “This necromancer worries me, I have to admit. I wanted to talk about it when you came back, but you were busy with your human.”

  His human. He listened, focusing in on tracking the sound of her voice, and was relieved to hear that she was in the kitchen with Mrs. C, undoubtedly still pelting the housekeeper with questions.