Bound By His Blood

by Jennifer August

  At last, the feral intensity faded and she drifted back to earth. McCallister lay atop her, his lips gently caressing her throat even as his hands feathered along her sides.

  She shuddered and closed her eyes, smiling at the sheer impossibility of how damn good she felt.

  “You okay?” he murmured.

  She nodded, wincing only a little at the tenderness from his bite. “I’m great. You?”

  He lifted his head, met her eyes, and slowly pulled free of her still grasping body. They both groaned. “Fucking fantastic.”

  She grinned up at him. “I agree. That was a fantastic fuck.”

  He rolled to the side and gathered her into his arms. He rained kisses along her cheek and chin before settling lightly on her lips. “No,” he whispered. “That was us making love, not just fucking.”

  “Oh, McCallister.” Sheridan sniffled. “That’s very sweet.”

  His expression turned serious. “Thank you,” he said.

  She cupped his jaw, stroking his now familiar and beloved face. A surge of strength hit her, followed quickly by what seemed to be a movie featuring a young McCallister. Instead of the brief glimpses she’d had the first time, now she saw everything that happened to him from the moment he’d been born until he died and was re-born. It all collided so quickly, she grew dizzy from the mental assault.

  Tears formed in her eyes as she watched him triumph over his past and carve out a niche in the world under his own terms.

  When she blinked the tears away, she found him staring at her with a stunned expression. She figured it matched her own.

  He held her close and stroked her hair. “You’ll never have to worry again, Sheridan.”

  She realized he must have had the same experience and that he now knew all her memories, too. Oddly, the knowledge didn’t bother her one bit.

  “Neither will you,” she whispered and kissed him softly. “Now, McCallister. Now, we are Joined.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I have a question.”

  McCallister shifted on the pillow so he could see Sheridan’s face. Her skin still glowed with after-sex bliss which made him want to crow like a rooster from the rooftops. He put that look on her face. That sort of hazy, “where the hell am I?” look. Yep, he did that.

  “Okay, shoot.”

  Her pink tongue swiped slowly across her bottom lip and he was immediately distracted by thoughts of just how good and soft and wet her tongue felt sliding up, down, and all over his cock.

  “So?”

  He re-focused on her face. Wariness replaced the sensual haze. He glimpsed a bit of defensiveness in the depths of her blue eyes, too. McCallister pulled her closer, draping her over his chest. He slid one leg between hers and cradled one of her hands in his. “Sorry, sweetheart, you lost me as soon as that sweet tongue peeked out. You had me remembering all the wicked things you can do so well with your mouth. Would you mind repeating your question?”

  She jerked then giggled and scratched at his chest. But he noticed the wariness dissolved with her smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I am at that. So, what did you want to know? Nothing is off limits, Sheridan,” he said on a husky tone. “I’m an open book for you now.”

  “I know. I read that book start to finish, remember?”

  “Yeah.” He tweaked her nose. “Kudos for not completely freaking out.”

  She snorted. “Dude, if I were going to freak out, it would have happened a long time ago. Oh, pretty much when I realized you were a for real vampire.”

  He laughed.

  She winked then her face settled back into serious. “When I had the dubious pleasure of meeting with Desdemona, she said you’d never turned anyone. Is that true?”

  Of all the questions she could have asked, that was not the one he’d expected. He forced the lump of surprise and automatic revulsion back down his throat. “Yeah,” he said on a ragged rasp. “I wasn’t kidding when I told Barrett this world is a horror. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

  Sheridan plastered herself even closer. Her body warmed him, battling away the icy fingers of fear that tried to creep up on him. “Even after all these years? You haven’t gotten used to it?”

  “I guess I have but it doesn’t mean I like it any better. The hunger is constantly there and I think that’s the worst for me. I don’t want to feed but I know I have to because I want to live.”

  “What’s the hunger like?”

  Her soft question hit him with the impact of a bullet and he couldn’t repress a shudder. “It’s like being outside on the hottest, most sweltering and miserable day. Baking underneath a two o’clock sun and feeling every bit of moisture wrung from your body. All you want is a drink of water. Just a sip. Just enough to wet your palate and let you swallow. Your tongue is thick and your throat aches from being denied. It plays with your mind and soon all you can think of is getting that one drop of water until it consumes you. You will do anything for that single, sustaining sip.”

  He looked down. Her eyes were wide and tear-stained. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and a deep anguish showed in the azure depths of her gaze. He could see all the way to her tender heart and the way she hurt for him left him stunned and elated and humbled all at the same time. McCallister wiped away a lone tear that escaped the corner of her eye. “The worst part is that drinking never really satisfies the thirst. But like a nagging, constant back ache, you learn to live with it.”

  “Oh, McCallister,” Sheridan murmured. She scooted higher on the bed and kissed him lightly. “That fucking sucks.”

  He smiled at the fervent and soft-spoken observation. “Yeah, it does. There are other reasons, too. Insomnia, paranoia, a general feeling of being unwell, amplified senses, rashes.”

  “Rashes?”

  He winked. “Just seeing if you were paying attention. It’s funny, I’ve met several vampires who have never experienced any of the things I’ve just mentioned and others who’ve had those and scores more. I guess everyone is unique. But I know how I felt. It lingers in my mind like bad foot odor.”

  “Ew.”

  “Exactly.”

  She stretched and her breasts slid languidly along his chest. Her nipples tightened to hard little points and he growled as he caught one between his fingers. “I want you again,” he said.

  Sheridan settled her breast deeper into his palm even as her fingers stroked up his thigh and cupped his balls. “Good, ’cause I want you, too.”

  He grabbed her nape and pulled her down for a long, satisfying, and very wet kiss. When he broke off, they were both panting like they’d run a marathon.

  “Damn,” she whispered and wiggled fully on top of him. She stroked his brow, his cheeks, his lips and stared raptly down at him.

  “What?” he asked, feeling a bit self-conscious at her blatant admiration.

  “I noticed from the moment I saw you what a sexy guy you were.”

  He grinned. “You did, huh?”

  “Yep.” She peppered his lips with soft, tender kisses. “But there’s much more to you, McCallister. I’ve seen your horrors and I’ve seen the beauty that lies within you.”

  Another sheen of moisture clouded her eyes and she ducked her head to rest against his shoulder. He caught her slight sniffle and caressed her hair. For the first time in decades, McCallister was struck speechless. Sheridan’s emotions buffeted him with the force of hurricane strength winds, knocking down the walls he’d spent so many years erecting.

  Holding her close, he nuzzled her neck. “You make me that way, Sheridan.” His voice dipped gruffly and he cleared his throat. “Before you teetered into my life on those ridiculous high heels, I merely existed. Now...” He inhaled a shaky breath, afraid of admitting to the riot of tender feelings swirling in him but more afraid not to give voice to the miracle she created.

  “Now what?” she mumbled against his shoulder.

  “Now, I can’t imagine my life without you.” A sudden, dark pang ripped th
rough his heart and he gasped then trembled.

  There would come a time, he knew, when he’d have to say goodbye to Sheridan. He would not turn her, even if she asked him to do so. That would be the ultimate horror for them both.

  He pulled her head up and kissed her with a wild, frantic hunger, anxious to claim her once more. The future would wait. Right now, she was his.

  His soul mate.

  † † †

  McCallister buckled his belt and stared down at Sheridan. She lay sprawled in the bed, a tangle of sheets and tousled blond hair. Her blue eyes were once more sleepy and sated.

  “You going to stay in bed all day?”

  She rolled onto her back and arched in a stretch meant to entice. His cock banged against his zipper. Taking a half step forward, he barely jerked himself to a stop.

  God, how I want her again.

  His need for Sheridan bordered on obsession. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

  She dropped her shoulders and grinned. “Maybe. I have my laptop and food, so I don’t have to go anywhere. I can work on my story and be safe and sound in my own place, just like you want me to be.”

  McCallister waggled his brows at her. “Don’t tell me you’re choosing now to start obeying me?”

  She sat up and reached for her discarded T-shirt. The soft cotton shimmied over her head, covering her delectable breasts from view, and he sighed with disappointment.

  “Just trying to keep you on your toes, copper. I wouldn’t want you to get bored.” She scrambled from the bed and threw her arms around him.

  He laughed and hugged her close, inhaling the soul-deep familiar scent of lavender and roses. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I don’t think that will ever happen.”

  She kissed him then danced from his arms and out the door. “I don’t want to take any chances,” she yelled down the hallway.

  He followed her to the living room, watching as she perched on the sofa, her supple legs curled under her. She grabbed the remote and flipped the television on then hauled her laptop bag onto the coffee table. “See, I’ll be good. I’ll sit right here, watch a ton of home decorating shows, dig a little more into Vampire Dust, and be in this spot when you get home.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Honest,” she replied. As her computer booted up, she leaned against the sofa and frowned up at him. “Are you sure this Dust stuff is really something Barrett created?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “It fits. Barrett has always been interested in experimenting. If he can heal himself and become a super vampire, then he’ll do whatever it takes. You are the only unknown in all of this. Why is he targeting you? Surely there’s someone else out there with the same kind of DNA you possess.”

  Her throat worked a few times as she outwardly struggled with panic. Her nostrils flared and her head bobbed a little bit before she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. “I think it’s a good thing.”

  He glared. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She lifted her palm. “Think about it. If Barrett is focused on me, then we know he’s not going to go out and find someone else to pick on. Some innocent soul who won’t have a clue he’s in danger until it’s way too late.”

  His jaw went mulish. “I don’t want you in danger, either, Sheridan. Unacceptable.”

  She rolled her eyes, leaned forward and typed in her password. “I’m not going to put myself in danger, McCallister. I don’t have a death wish. I just think knowing his plan gives us the advantage. He doesn’t know we know, right? So, he’ll be less likely to suspect anything in the way of capture you guys can come up with.”

  “You’re making my head hurt,” he said.

  “Take an aspirin,” she replied. Her computer beeped and several windows flowed onto the screen. Sheridan stood and stretched again. He heard the pop of each vertebrae but his gaze was focused on the just-visible crack of her butt peeking from her tiny red panties. She lowered her arms and the T-shirt covered her butt again.

  Damn.

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” she said, a smile as wide as a football field on her full lips. “That is, if you’re done staring?”

  He kissed her then patted her panty-clad ass. “Sweetheart, I have a feeling I’ll never get tired of staring at you.”

  Her cheeks bloomed with pink pleasure. “Awww, that’s sweet.”

  “God, don’t say that where any of the guys can hear you. I’ll never live it down.”

  He headed for the door, aware of her trailing him. “Ooh, blackmail. I like it.”

  McCallister turned and pulled her close, this time smacking her butt with more force. Enough to leave his handprint, he was sure.

  She gasped and bucked beneath him. “McCallister!”

  He winked, kissed her hard and eased away. “Lock the door, don’t open it for anyone, and don’t go anywhere.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m a big girl, McCallister. I know how to stay safe.”

  He opened the door and stepped outside, turned and lifted a brow. “Close the door, Sheridan.”

  Her sigh was long and exasperated but she did as ordered. He waited until the tumblers rolled over and the chain rattled as she slid it home. “Go away, McCallister,” her voice filtered through the door. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

  He nodded at the peephole, turned and sauntered down the drive to his car.

  When you get home. Damn, I like the sound of that.

  McCallister realized he had to put a stop to Barrett and quickly. The man was a threat to Sheridan and that was absolutely unacceptable.

  † † †

  Having finished her assignments for the next day, and mind drained of any additional creative word wrangling, Sheridan plopped onto the couch and grabbed her remote control. She flipped through the channels a few minutes, settled on the latest baking challenge show, and scanned her emails. She’d deleted a good thirty messages before her computer beeped loudly.

  Video call from Bert.

  She grinned as she muted the TV, picked up the laptop, and settled back to the couch to answer. She pressed the answer button and waited for the image to focus.

  All she saw was a hazy dark screen. “Bert?”

  A slight noise sounded off-screen then Bert shuffled into view. His normally spit-shine appearance had given way to frazzled hair, a black eye and a blood-spattered white shirt. The normally rosy hue of his face morphed into wan, drawn lines. She bolted upright, jostling the computer.

  “Bert! What’s going on?”

  He shook his head, mouth working but she couldn’t hear anything. She checked her volume and found it up to normal.

  A large hand settled on Bert’s thin shoulder and the older man suddenly slumped forward. Sheridan gasped and grabbed at the monitor with both hands. “Bert. What’s going on? Where are you?” He was slumped down. She saw the pink crown of his head and the slats of a chair behind him. Squinting into the murkiness of the room beyond him, all she could see were some kind of long tables.

  Bert’s head slowly lifted and she heard his soft exhalation. “Sheridan, I’m in a bit of trouble here.” He sat back, smoothed a trembling hand over his head and grimaced. “I need your help.”

  A sick feeling filled the pit of her stomach, rising on a tidal wave of bile to clog her throat. “Where are you?” she whispered, afraid she already knew the answer.

  “Barrett’s compound.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Shit.”

  “Yeah, thought the same thing myself.”

  A voice too low to hear snapped a command at the old man. He sniffed and stared into the camera. She could tell he didn’t want to tell her anything, didn’t want to ask her for help, didn’t want to endanger her. But she also knew he would because Bert wanted to live.

  “Tell me,” she said. “It’s okay.”

  He hesitated then his shoulders slumped. “Barrett says he’ll let me go if you come here. I don’t know what he wants with you but it’s not good.”

/>   A fist shot in-frame and clipped the old man on the jaw. He rocked sideways.

  “Bert!” Sheridan yelled.

  Her old friend listed to the left, shaking his head and wiggling his jaw.

  “Listen to me, you fucktard,” she bit out. “You hurt him again and I will end you. Got me?”

  Harsh, mocking laughter filled her living room. “Not scared of you.” The words were hard, guttural, and barely intelligible, but she understood.

  Red rage filled her vision and she broke the shell of her mouse, she gripped it so hard. “You should be. Tell me where to come.”

  Bert shook his head again but she ignored him, speaking to the douche bazooka hiding in the shadows.

  “Where is Barrett?”

  “Ask Cly-pee Jones,” the voice said. “Two hours then he die.”

  The video call ended.

  Sheridan threw the computer to the side and leapt to her feet. Sprinting to her bedroom, she yanked on jeans, a bra, and her sneakers.

  “Where’s my phone? Where’s my damn phone?” She tossed the covers and sheet off the bed, trying to keep hold of the panic choking her.

  The phone wasn’t in the bed.

  She checked the bedside tables, the bathroom, the kitchen, and the cushions of the couch.

  “Son of a bitch, where is it?” she shouted to the living room.

  The urge to throw things grew stronger with every breath she took. That would not do. Half the stuff in her house was an heirloom of some sort.

  “Calm down. Breathe. One. Two. Three.” The absurdity of talking herself off the ledge actually helped her rein the wildness a little bit. She flexed her fingers, took one last, deep breath, and sat on the couch, hoping to re-trace her steps.

  She’d come home from the office, stormed into her house, threw her laptop bag on the couch, and her purse into the closet.

  She rose, opened the closet door, and found her cute red purse upended on the floor. Her phone lay innocuously on top of her lipstick and wallet. She snatched up the cell and frantically found McCallister’s number.

  Pacing the length of her living room, she counted each ring. Pain radiated between her shoulder blades as the tension once more grabbed hold of her like a sumo wrestler in a championship match.