Predatory
Page 25
What the hell?
He tried to open his eyes and found his lids too heavy to lift.
“Wake up, Richart,” Jenna whispered in his ear. Her delicate fingers delivered soothing strokes to one of his hands.
Had he fallen asleep at Jenna’s?
“Wake up, Richart,” she repeated in those same warm tones.
The buzz sawing grew louder. The pain in his head intensified.
“Wake up, Richart,” she said once more, amusement creeping in. “Because, if you don’t, I might have to smother Sheldon to get him to stop snoring.”
Had he the strength, he would have laughed.
Then her words sank in. Sheldon was here? What was Sheldon doing here?
Where was here? His mind was all foggy.
Had he and Jenna spent her night off at his place? All of the things he had planned to do to that lovely body of hers and he had fallen asleep? Sheldon must have laughed his ass off when he had gotten home.
“Wake up, Richart. I need to know you’re okay.”
That didn’t sound like he’d fallen asleep.
He tried again to force his eyelids open.
Her hand tightened on his as she combed her fingers through his hair.
“That’s it. Open your eyes for me.”
At last, he succeeded and tried to bring his surroundings into focus.
What was wrong with his eyes?
What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he think straight or hold on to a thought for more than a fleeting second?
As his vision cleared, he realized he lay in Jenna’s bed, a blanket drawn up to his waist, leaving his chest bare. His Second was sprawled in a chair across the room, legs straight, feet splayed, arms dangling over the chair’s arms, head back, mouth gaping as he emitted periodic snores.
At least I’ve located the damned chainsaw.
Daylight framed the closed blinds on the only window the room boasted. A discarded IV stand sporting an empty bag of blood stood sentinel beside the bed.
“Richart?” Jenna sat beside him, her hip a gentle pressure against his. Faint signs of fatigue lined her pretty face.
He curled his fingers around hers, still trying to find his voice.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
It took a couple of attempts to coax sound to emerge. “Like I have the worst hangover ever. What happened?”
She shook her head. “Sheldon wouldn’t tell me what happened before you got here, just that you were out on assignment and something went terribly wrong. John and I were having dinner here last night when you suddenly . . .” She closed her eyes for a moment. “It feels so weird to say this.”
“What?”
“You . . . teleported into the living room.”
Alarm surged through him.
“Sporting fangs.”
He clamped his lips shut.
“Drenched in blood.”
Holy hell.
“With glowing eyes.”
Every curse word he knew in every language he had ever learned paraded through his mind.
She knew. At least part of it anyway. “You called Sheldon?” he asked, avoiding her gaze.
“No. Your cell phone was shattered in whatever fight left you so torn up. He came looking for you around noon.”
She knew.
John knew.
She’d never forgive him.
Fear-induced adrenaline surged through him, finally resurrecting a few memories.
The ambush. The vampire king. The darts.
Grabbing the pillow from behind his head, he threw it at his somnolent Second’s slack face.
Feet flying up, Sheldon snorted and jackknifed into a seated position. “I didn’t do it!” His eyes sought and found Richart. “Oh, shit. You’re awake. Man, you had me worried.” He crossed to the bed.
Richart squeezed Jenna’s hand and pulled himself up into a seated position. The room tilted. Dark clouds invaded his vision and swirled around before clearing as the dizziness ebbed. “Étienne and Lisette?”
Jenna moved to sit at his side and wrapped an arm around him for support.
A tiny spark of hope flared. She wouldn’t do that if she hated or feared him, would she?
“As of half an hour ago, they still haven’t regained consciousness,” Sheldon said, “but their wounds have healed like yours.”
“Roland and Marcus?”
“They’re awake, but not at full strength.”
“Ami?”
The younger man’s gaze darted to Jenna and back. He raised his eyebrows in question, silently asking if he should speak freely.
“Just say it. I’m going to tell her everything as soon as you leave anyway.”
“The vampire king or one of his followers captured her.”
Dread flooded Richart’s stomach like acid.
“Bastien tracked their scents to Carrboro and lost them,” Sheldon continued, “but Marcus went after her as soon as he woke up and found her.”
“She’s alive?”
Sheldon nodded.
“In what condition?”
“I don’t know. Last I heard Darnell was heading over to Marcus’s place to check on her. I’m sure Seth has been called in by now to heal her.”
Richart dropped his legs over the side of the bed and braced his bare feet on the carpet. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Sheldon told him.
Richart shook his head. “I should have stayed. I shouldn’t have teleported that last time. I thought I could take her away from there.”
“If you had stayed, you would have died.”
And Ami still would have wound up in the vampires’ hands. The vampire-hunting profession was very good at producing no-win situations. “Go home and get some rest.”
“I don’t think I should leave you. You aren’t at full strength.”
“Go home,” Richart insisted, his tone offering Sheldon no wiggle room. “I’ll be along in a while.”
“What if you can’t teleport?”
“I’ll call you and you can drag your ass back and give me a ride. Or, if the sun has set, I’ll walk.”
Nodding, Sheldon grabbed a piece of paper and pen from the bedside table and scribbled something down. Once finished, he handed the scrap to Jenna. “Here’s a number where you can reach me. If he needs anything, call me.”
“Okay.” Jenna took his Second’s hand. “Thank you, Sheldon.”
Bobbing his head, Sheldon gave her hand a squeeze, scrutinized Richart one last time, then backed out of the room. The front door opened and closed, then they were alone.
Chapter Five
Silence descended upon the room, heavy with things unsaid.
“It belatedly occurs to me,” Richart began rustily, “that I should have asked you if you wished me to leave.”
“No.” She added nothing more. Nor did she move away, sitting close behind him on the bed.
Richart found himself at a loss. He didn’t know how to do this. How to reveal all of his secrets. How to coax a human into accepting him without fear or loathing. A human whose scorn he couldn’t bear to face.
“Why won’t you look at me?” she asked.
Richart rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping it would help clear his head and ease the pain it housed. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Done what?”
“Tried to find a way to tell the woman I love that I’m not human.”
She drew in a sharp breath.
“Tried to find the right words to convince her not to fear me or revile me after letting her see me at my worst, covered in blood, with my damned eyes glowing and my fangs bared. What you must think of me . . .” Rising shakily, he braced a hand on the wall.
“Are you okay?”
He winced. “My head is fucking killing me.” He cupped his throbbing forehead in a palm. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to speak so crudely.”
“I’ve said worse, stuck in traffic.”
His lips twitched. Only Jenna could make him smile when things looked so damned grim. It was one of the reasons he loved her despite all of the monumental obstacles littering their path. “You know what the ironic thing is?”
“What?”
“If this battle had not taken place, I would have told you everything last night.”
The bedding rustled as Jenna rose on the other side of the bed.
“I know it sounds like I’m just saying that to cover my ass, but it was your night off. If we couldn’t be alone here, I was going to boot Sheldon out of my place and . . .” He shook his head. “I wanted so badly to make love to you, but didn’t feel right doing so without first telling you the truth.”
Jenna circled the bed and stood no more than a foot away from him. “Is that why you held back whenever we . . . ?”
“Kissed?” He studied her beautiful face, following the lovely line of her neck down to her full breasts. “Touched?” Despite the lethargy that plagued him, Richart felt his pulse leap and his body harden as memories of slipping his hands beneath her shirt, unfastening her bra, and filling his palms with that soft, silky flesh flitted through his mind. Dragging the cloth up and closing his lips over the tights buds. Hearing her moan and feeling her clutch him tightly in response.
Squeezing his eyes closed, he turned his head aside.
“Richart? What’s wrong? Is it your head?”
He shook his head. “It’s my eyes.”
“Are they hurting?”
This was so not the time for his nature to assert itself. “No, it’s . . .” A huff of frustration escaped him. “They glow when I’m in the grips of strong emotion and—trust me when I say I realize now is not the time for this—but just the thought of making love with you . . .”
He jumped when her small, cool fingers touched his jaw and turned his face back toward her.
“Let me see,” she coaxed.
He did as bidden.
Her hazel eyes brightened, illuminated by the amber glow emanating from his own.
She raised her other hand, cupped his face in both, and studied him with such painful intensity that he forgot to breathe. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered.
A lump rose in his throat. “Don’t fear me, Jenna.”
Amusement lit her features. “It’s kind of hard to be afraid of a vampire who apologizes for using harsh language in front of a lady.”
Could he really be so lucky? “I’m not a vampire.”
“And I’m not a lady.” She motioned to the bed. “Stop worrying about how I’ll react, sit down before you fall down, and explain all of this to me.” She started to step back, then paused. “Wait. Scratch that. I need to do something first.” Slipping her arms around his waist, she pressed her face to his chest and hugged him close.
Heart pounding, Richart wrapped his arms around her.
“There was a moment last night,” she murmured, “when I thought you were dead. You lost consciousness and your chest stopped rising. I couldn’t find a pulse.” Her hold tightened. “I’ve only felt that overwhelming despair and helplessness once in my life, when police showed up at my door and told me John’s father had been killed in a car accident.” She burrowed closer, her breath warm on his chest. “I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”
Richart buried his face in her hair. “I’m sorry.”
Many long moments passed while they clung to each other.
Sighing, Jenna loosened her hold and looked up at him. “Feelings that deep aren’t going to dissolve overnight because I found out your eyes are prettier and your teeth are sharper than I thought they were.”
Richart dipped his head and captured her lips with his own, pouring everything he felt into the contact until both were breathless.
When she placed a hand on his chest and applied gentle pressure, he reluctantly withdrew.
“I need you to explain everything to me before we get too distracted.”
Nodding, he sank onto the bed, stretched his legs out, and leaned back against the headboard, then pulled her down beside him, catching and holding her hand.
“Now they’re even brighter,” she said, her eyes locking on his with fascination.
“You do that to me,” he admitted. “I’ve had a hell of a time hiding it from you.”
Swiveling to face him, she sat with her legs crossed and toyed with his fingers. “So . . . how old are you?”
He grimaced. “Two hundred and thirty.”
She shook her head. “I feel so stupid for making such a big deal out of being older than you.”
“Please don’t. I was the one who feared you would reject me if you knew my true age.”
She offered him a small smile. “I won’t lie. If you actually looked your age, I wouldn’t have given you a second glance.”
He laughed. “I don’t blame you.”
“How can you be so . . . ?”
“Old and young at the same time?”
She nodded. “And not be a vampire? I mean, the fangs . . .”
“I’m infected with a virus. A very rare symbiotic virus that behaves like no other on the planet. We don’t know where it originated. We know only that it first conquers, then replaces the immune system, lending those infected with it far greater strength, speed, and regenerative capabilities. It heightens our senses, causes extreme photosensitivity, and . . . we don’t age. Essentially, we are immortal, and call ourselves such.”
Jenna stared at him, her thoughts reeling. “A virus.”
“Yes, one that can only be transmitted through a bite.”
“Do you drink blood?”
“I do require frequent infusions of blood. The virus depletes my body’s supply as it repairs damage. But I don’t drink it. During my transformation, I grew a pair of retractable fangs that function like IV needles. When I bite into a blood bag, my fangs siphon the blood directly into my veins.”
“Do you ever bite people?”
“We all did before we were able to collect and store blood donations in our own blood banks. But we never frightened or killed the donors.” He grimaced. “Well, not unless they were fiends who preyed upon the innocent.”
“So you’re an immortal, not a vampire.”
“Yes.”
“But Sheldon mentioned a vampire king, so vampires do exist.”
“Yes. I was different from other humans even before I was infected, as were my brother and sister and all of our immortal brethren. We called ourselves gifted ones. We didn’t know it then and still don’t know why, but our DNA is more advanced—a great deal more advanced—than that of ordinary humans.” He shrugged. “It’s why I can teleport.”
“That isn’t a result of the virus?”
“No. I could teleport as a child. My brother and sister are both telepathic. Some can heal with their hands. Others can move things with their minds. The eldest of us can do far more.” He toyed with her hand. “As you said, vampires do exist. They are ordinary humans who have been infected with the same virus. They lack our special abilities and, without the protection our advanced DNA affords us, suffer progressive brain damage that causes a rapid descent into madness. They prey upon humans, inflicting upon their victims every monstrous impulse.”
“How have I never heard of this?” she asked in disbelief. “How have none of us ever heard of this?”
“Immortals hunt vampires and destroy them. It’s what we do, every night, to eradicate the threat and to prevent the public from learning of our existence and theirs.”
“But, why don’t the vampires’ victims report it?”
“They have no memory of the attacks.”
“You erase their memories?”
“No. Small glands above our fangs—and the fangs of vampires—release a chemical that behaves much like GHB under the pressure of a bite. If the victim lives, he or she will have no memory of what happened.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just having
a hard time believing that.”
He looked away. “Do you remember the first night we met, Jenna?”
“Yes. You came into the store and asked me where to find Krazy Glue.”
When next he met her gaze, his eyes had returned to their usual brown. “That wasn’t the first night we met.”
“What do you mean?”
“A few weeks before that, I was hunting in the area—”
“Hunting vampires.”
“Yes. And found . . . you. You must have just come off your shift. Four vampires had swept you behind the building and cornered you.”
Her blood went cold. “What?”
“You fought and pepper-sprayed one, but were bitten by another before I could wrest you from him.”
Horror filled her. Somehow this revelation was worse than anything that had come before it. She had been attacked? By vampires? And had no memory of it? “That isn’t possible.”
“There was a night, was there not, a few weeks before we met in which you couldn’t remember leaving work the night before, driving home, or putting yourself to bed?”
Oh, crap. There had been. She had awoken in her bed, still wearing her work clothes, and hadn’t been able to remember how she had gotten there. It had all been a blank. She had ultimately chalked it up to exhaustion.
“I was attacked by vampires?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” How could he keep something like that from her?
“Jenna—”
“I was attacked, Richart! You should have told me!”
“How?” he asked helplessly.
“Easy. You should have said, Jenna, I know this is going to sound strange, but you were attacked by vampires and I rescued—okay, I see your point. I would have thought you were off your rocker.” She rubbed a shaking hand over her face. “I can’t believe this. Did they . . . ? What did they do to me?”
“Other than the bite, you were unharmed. They must have just taken you when I came upon you.”
“Am I infected?” If all Richart had said was true, she would turn into a psychotic vampire if she transformed. She didn’t have the special DNA needed to make her immortal. She couldn’t read minds or teleport or see the future or whatever else they could do.