by Cat Miller
Griffin had never been so jealous in his life. All he wanted, all he had wanted for nearly twenty years was to hold his mate, to kiss her, and whisper words of love and devotion. But he stood there afraid to move. If he went to Tessa, Sarah would make his life a new level of hell, deeper than the one he had been living since finding his lost family again.
Tessa was dying; maybe she was already dead on the sidewalk only two blocks from his home. His heart revolted against the months of stern control he had exercised in staying far removed from her. She had been so close but he stayed away for the sake of his family, for the children he’d brought into this world with Sarah, and for the pride and legacy of his family’s House.
Doc Stevens looked up and met Griffin’s eyes. He saw disgust glaring back at him. When Griffin arrived he had almost cut himself to feed Tessa from his vein. He was going to try to turn her in order to save her life. Doc knew what he was about to do and tried to hurry him along. Tessa was already his mate so it made sense for him to do it. He had no idea how it would affect his weak bond to Sarah, but at the moment he hadn’t cared. He was her only chance and he loved her so much his heart struggled to break free from his chest. Griffin raised his wrist to his mouth. He bared his fangs and was ready to open his vein. Sarah grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him from the limo. She had just shown up and caught him hovering over Tessa while Brandi was being carried to a waiting vehicle.
“What are you doing touching that piece of filth?” She sniffed in disdain and turned Griffin to face her.
“Let’s get our baby home. These people have done enough harm to our family. Let the others clean up this…” She looked at Tessa’s still form for emphasis, “trash.”
Griffin walked behind her halfway to the van and stopped. He had to maintain his relationship with Sarah. He was a councilmen and his relationship with Tessa had already brought undue attention to his family. His parents were pissed about the negative publicity. Fortunately, society didn’t believe a true bond was possible between a vamp and human so his bond to Sarah hadn’t been called into question. He was being looked upon as a man who’d had a wild youth and made a mistake. It was just like Sarah wanted it. She called it his “human phase.”
He stood there with his mate getting louder and nastier behind him, Doc Stevens passing judgment, and Tessa slipping away in front of him. Twice in his life he had failed the person he loved the most. Twice in his life he had let the woman he swore with a blood bonded oath to protect and cherish, die with no action on his part to prevent it. Danielle wouldn’t forgive him, any more than he could forgive himself. Griffin turned and climbed into the van, his heart a frozen block of despair, his face the picture of calm indifference expected of the leader of the mighty House of Vaughn.
THREE
“I need O negative hung and warm blankets now. We’re almost there.” Doc tried to speak in his usual calm tone to the nursing staff at the Enclave infirmary over the speaker of his cell phone. It was being held out to him by a Wrath warrior named Garrett because he was straddling his patient on the floor of the van performing chest compressions. He was known for being calm in the face of crisis, but the urgency pounding in his veins was seeping into his voice. The large crevasse opening in his composure was pissing Doc off. His hard won reputation was one of stony unflappability, but he was going to lose this patient if they weren’t prepared for his arrival, and she needed to live.
The van was overcrowded with warriors, weapons and the enticing aroma of human blood. Air, thick with the tension of restraint and need, choked him. The blood was a near irresistible temptation to the warriors now crashing from the adrenaline high of the previous hours. Doc’s fangs were filling his aching mouth, his hands covered with the bright red essence of a human woman that deserved better than she’d received. Tessa smelled so sweet, like warm vanilla and female. No. He couldn’t think of how delicious she smelled, or how it would feel to hold her to his chest, wrapped safely in his arms while the rich heat of her blood trickled down his throat, coating his tongue. Doc was also struggling with a rage that threatened to consume him after watching Griffin stand over his mate, the woman he had pledged to protect with his own life, and watched her dying. He could have started the change and it wouldn’t have done him any harm. They were already bonded and it would have saved her life.
But no, the coward walked away in fear of his second mate’s anger. His family name and reputation were more important than the life of the woman that had spent the last twenty two years loving him in spite of his betrayal. Who even knew it was possible to have multiple mates? Of course he had heard of parents giving blood to their children, or siblings sharing blood in an emergency to save their loved ones lives. That would leave them with a permanent bond, but somehow their bodies knew the difference between a mate and family member. There must be a marker of some sort in the blood that runs in families. The giving of blood from one vamp to another instead of an exchange of blood could be the difference also. He would have to research that in the future, but for now he had to deal with saving Tessa.
Continuing to perform compressions and breathing deeply as if he could breathe for her, Doc willed her to live, to fight and stay with him awhile longer. Doc’s temper spiked at the memory of Griffin just standing there, looking lost while Sarah bellowed at his back, and spat insults at the mother of his child. Doc was sickened by the weakness of the man who everyone looked up to as a Council member and leader of their people. Griffin was no more than a puppet dangling from his parent’s strings. He danced to whatever tune furthered his house’s agenda and his position on the Council. This is exactly how he had lost Tessa all those years ago. His parents tied him in a knot so tight the love of his life and his daughter were strangled in the cords.
One of the warriors, he thought it was Troy, flung open the rear doors of the van as they turned onto the access road leading to the Enclave. Fresh air swept through the enclosed area, helping to clear his head. The gates stood open and the guards waved them through.
He checked her pulse again. It was so shallow. They had managed to revive her with CPR and fluids on the scene, but he feared the end was near. Restarting chest compressions to keep Tessa’s heart going, Doc prayed for the divine intervention he would need to bring her back around. When they came to a screeching halt on the curb of the Enclave, the warriors leapt from the vehicle, no longer able to tolerate the heavy blood scent permeating the van. A gurney was rolled over along with the blood and the I.V. pump he’d requested. Within moments Tessa was hooked up and he straddled her delicate body, continuing to assist her heart while the nurses wheeled them into the infirmary.
****
The damn beeping was getting on her nerves. Sam needed to turn off her alarm clock. She could sleep through anything and the noise was coming right through the wall to wake Brandi. She’d probably snuck out again. She likely wasn’t even in her room to hear the annoying sound that would wake the whole house. It would serve her right if it woke Daddy and he came to check on her.
Brandi, being the sucker she was, contemplated going to turn it off so her twin sister wouldn’t get into trouble, but decided not to. That was something the old Brandi would do. New Brandi wouldn’t be such a push over. But nobody had met that girl yet. Because… because she’d never made it to the bonding ceremony. She struggled with that knowledge. She knew something wasn’t right but the memories were just beyond her grasp. Why hadn’t she made her debut as the hip and fresh faced Brandi Vaughn that was lurking beneath her baggy clothes and high I.Q.?
The beeping became more rapid and she tried to get up to go shut it off. She’d had enough of the noise. All she wanted was to go back to sleep. But when she moved, pain shot through her chest and had her gasping for air. Her stomach rolled and the pain made her want to toss her cookies. In the distance she heard a husky voice.
“Get Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn. I think she’s awake.”
Footsteps brought the voice to her bedside and a h
and brushed her forehead.
“Hey there, Pixie. Are you ready to open those eyes for me? I’d love to see what pixie eyes look like. Can you hear me?”
The decidedly male voice was a deep rumble over her senses, soothing her back into sleep while simultaneously rousing her to find the source of the intriguing new voice. But was this voice really new? Had she heard it before? She struggled to recall the memory of a lifeline thrown to her from a distant shore. She had been floating away on a sea of pain when he came to haul her back in.
He’d held her and said, “Drink now, Pixie. Drink and come back to me.”
She had done his bidding and drank the hot life pressed to her lips. A warm, calloused hand stroked her face, down her arm, and back up to brush her hair from her eyes.
“Come now. Open those eyes for me.” He was checking her pulse, the large hand at her neck made her turn and snuggle her face into the warmth of it. Brandi was cold in spite of the feeling of being buried under a thick layer of blankets. A low growl emanated from above her and the voice came closer while a thumb stroked her cheek.
“I suppose this means sleepy pixies like to be petted? Are you ready to talk to me yet, Nymph?”
Brandi groaned and slowly opened her eyes while snuggling deeper into the comfort of his palm and froze. Inches from her face, a pair of jewel-green eyes peered back at her. Beautiful, unearthly green beacons pulled her from the depths of sleep. He smiled at her sharply indrawn breath. Sandy hair lay over a tanned face with several days growth adorning a square jaw. Was it right to call a man beautiful? It had to be, because handsome just wouldn’t do it. Uncertain, she raised her hand to his whiskered cheek to see he was real and not a dream as she told him what she thought in one word.
“Beautiful.”
His eyes widened and New Brandi was proud. She had shamelessly, if weakly, given her approval of him instead of blushing and hiding from the man. And he was a man, not one of the boys she had dated in the past. Feeling a bit smug at having surprised him, she turned her head and pressed a kiss of thanks into his palm. She knew he had been there with her. He had saved her. Darkness drifted over her again and Brandi relaxed back into a deep sleep feeling safe and protected by her unknown guardian.
****
The pixie had kissed his palm and nuzzled him like a lover. Such a gentle gesture had sent heat rocketing straight to his groin. Damn. She had called him beautiful and stunned him with the brush of her soft rosy lips. Beautiful? Really? Some men may have taken offense at being called such a feminine thing, but Greyson wasn’t at all offended. He was secure enough in his manhood to take the compliment as it was intended. He didn’t necessarily agree, but far be it from him to dissuade the pixie. It was so damn good to see some color in those lips and her cheeks. She had been so pale and lifeless just the night before. He sat by her bedside all-night, pulling double duty as a Wrath guard and a doctor.
The ride from the limo where he and his Wrath brethren had found her, along with her half-sister and a human female, had tried his patience. He was working feverishly to stop the blood,which two humans on the scene had so kindly donated,from exiting her body through the holes in her chest and back. With little light and a bad made for TV movie running in the background… Oh, wait. That wasn’t a chick flick. It was the pixie’s mother screeching at her father about a dirty human whore and her gold-digging daughter while the father stonily ignored her and held up his cell phone, utilizing the handy flashlight app to give Greyson more light for his work.
He couldn’t wait to get the whole story on this dysfunctional bunch. If he hadn’t known for sure that the man leaning over the other side of the vampire pixie was Griffin Vaughn, the widely renowned and respected Councilmen and head of the House of Vaughn, he would never have believed it. The image of the perfectly dignified Councilmen and his perfect upper-crust family image did not jive with the scene playing out before Greyson.
There was a bullet still lodged in the pixie’s upper chest near the clavicle. He hoped it hadn’t nicked the artery resting very near the site. Without an operating room, the proper tools, and a couple of assistants, he wouldn’t be able to fix that injury in time to save her life. The bullet was preventing her naturally speedy healing processes from taking over and clotting up the hole. It had to come out now and he had to concentrate in order to make that happen.
About the twentieth time he heard the beautiful but nasty blonde say, “I don’t know how you could touch that filthy mongrel!” or some variation of that theme, Greyson snapped. He leaned across the narrow space in the back of the van and grabbed the woman by the wrist, yanking her toward the doors behind him. He got right in her face and snarled.
“If you don’t shut your nasty hole I’m gonna toss you from this moving vehicle. Do you understand? I’m trying to save your daughter’s life and you’re worried about a human that is already dead.”
A sound of anguish slipped from Griffin and the woman screeched even louder at his rough handling. Blood ran from his glove covered hand down the woman’s arm and she watched it drop from her elbow. Suddenly she looked at her daughter as if she had just noticed the pixie in the van with them was bleeding out and dying.
“I thought you said she was stable?” she keened. Great, now she was crying and getting hysterical.
“I said she was stable enough to move. I need to remove the bullet from her chest.” He barked in her face. He had to get it out before he moved her again. He needed her body’s natural clotting and healing to help him along. The van came to a sudden and jarring halt. The side door slid open and two warriors, along with a host of other people in tuxedos and gowns, greeted him. Greyson turned back to Mr. Vaughn.
“I’m sorry, but we need this bullet out now.” He forced the blubbering woman into the arms of the warriors standing by and slammed the van door shut, locking it. The warrior that had been driving turned around and added the light from his phone on the spot Greyson need to see. He’d never been so glad to have a well-stocked med-kit. Using the long tweezers, his fingers, and a Hail Mary, Greyson dislodged the bullet from her chest. Almost immediately the blood stopped flowing. He packed the site with gauze to protect it until he could get inside and stitch her up.
Griffin Vaughn stayed with him through the entire ordeal, acting as his assistant and nurse. In the immaculately clean and brightly lit kitchen of the Vaughn estate, on a steel table meant for food prep, Greyson cut the clothes off the pixie and thoroughly cleaned the area around the exit wound. Griffin stripped to his undershirt and scrubbed his hands and arms in the deep sink. He grabbed a pair of gloves from the med-kit and stood ready for direction.
The past crept up on Greyson for a moment and he fought to hold it back. The entire situation, the making do with what he had, the stress, the blood, and the near death condition of his patient took him back to his days as a field surgeon in Vietnam. For a split second he was up to his elbows in blood, standing over the body of a twenty year old kid. The handsome kid hadn’t known he’d seen his family for the last time, hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to his troop, or write one last letter to the sweetheart waiting for him at home in the states. He had died, in a foreign country on a metal table, with his chest blown apart.
Shit. Now was not the time to deal with his demons. Griffin stepped up and they set to work. Griffin never once complained about the strain of bending over the table, or winced at the blood and gore. He followed orders and, in the end, Greyson came away with a renewed respect for the Councilmen.
During the surgery, a gurney, along with all the other equipment he needed, had been brought in from the Enclave. That made transporting the pixie to her room and monitoring her vitals much easier. The heart monitor had beeped reassuringly all night and into the next day before she had finally stirred for a moment. He still sat there with her face pressed into his hand after she slipped back into sleep. The door pushed open behind him and Greyson reluctantly withdrew his hand. Her parents, along with her twin who looked nothing l
ike her, rushed into the room. The twin went directly to her sister’s bed, knelt on the floor to hold her slack hand and whispered to her reassuringly. He reassured them that she was doing well, and had awakened for just a moment, but that was a very good sign. She had seemed lucid and not in much pain until she moved to get up.
“Dr. Drake, why don’t you let us make you up one of the guest rooms so you can get some rest? There are two guards at the door and a nurse on duty to monitor Brandi. You must be exhausted. Our family is indebted to you for the service you provided. ” Griffin shook Greyson’s hand and pulled him in for an uncharacteristic man hug, pounding Greyson on the back the way men do when they’re fond of each other.
“Please, call me Greyson. I haven’t been Dr. Drake for a long time.” He smiled a bit weakly.
“If you don’t mind, sir, I would prefer to continue monitoring Brandi myself.” That was actually the first time anyone had bothered to mention her name in front of him. He liked it, but felt like pixie or nymph was going to stick.
“I’ve been taking regular combat naps and the blood and food you sent up hit the spot. It’s been a while since I’ve had such a critical patient. Nowadays I usually don’t do more than patch up my teammates on the fly out in the field.” Okay, so he was making excuses to stay with the pixie. So what? He could admit that. To himself. Maybe.
“You still feel like she’s critical, Dr. Drake? I thought you just said she was doing well.” Mrs. Vaughn challenged him, but had the grace to look sheepish after her performance the night before.