“Hey?” Brendan sat next to me in a flash.
He placed his left arm around my waist and carefully helped me sit all the way up. My face hovered above his shoulder, and my focus immediately locked onto the steady beating of his jugular. The urge to lean over and bite into his thick, golden flesh ran through my sore body as he held me close and began moving the pillows to rest behind my back. The scent of iron rose from his skin, breaking through the fading cologne and pine, irritating the itch that crawled along my throat. I wound my left arm around his solid waist and clutched at his back. He tensed, but as I rested my right cheek on his shoulder, he relaxed into the embrace. The smell of blood rolled around in my senses, fogging my head. He pulled me closer; his head came to rest against mine.
“You had me worried for a while, Tough Girl,” he said softly. His voice vibrated right through to my marrow.
I shuddered.
I wanted to make a witty comeback, but couldn’t force the words up my throat. I slid my hand up his left biceps, along his shoulder and into his thick, copper hair. I inhaled the smell of him deeply into my body. The iron and pine flooded me; my mouth began to water.
“Heather?” His voice was firm as I touched my lips to his heated skin.
The feel of his quickened pulse vibrated against my tongue.
His grip loosened. His left hand travelled swiftly up my arm, and he gently pulled my fingers from his hair while his right hand slid under my mouth.
“No,” he said calmly as I fought to keep him close to me. “I don’t want to hurt you, Heather, so lean back and rest.”
He pulled away from me and moved off the bed.
My body screamed as I leant forward in a weak attempt to grab him. The tightness on my midsection clung to me. I sucked in a sharp breath and fell against the stacked pillows as the hot pain rippled through my entire body.
“Take it easy.” He opened the blinds slightly, then the window.
I breathed deeply through my clenched teeth, waiting for the agony to subside. The smell of fresh air and nature swam into the room, pushing away the already fading scent of Brendan’s natural odour and blood.
I stared at him as he sat back down. The muted sunlight cast a friendly orange glow on his face, outlining the exhaustion that dulled his emerald eyes. His hair, a tangle of copper, hung limply around his angular face.
He looks awful.
He watched me from under a heavy brow; concern sharpened his usually relaxed gaze, his plump, peach lips narrowed into a straight line, so unflattering to his natural good looks.
Why is he staring at me?
The fog in my mind started to clear as my focus on Brendan grew stronger. His jaw tensed, rippling his lips; he obviously wanted to say something.
Is he waiting for me to talk? Is he waiting for me to say thank you? Thank you would be a good start, but if he’s waiting for me to say it as if he—
The realization hit me. “Oh, Jesus, I wanted t’bite you.”
“It would appear you have a new fetish.” He dropped his attention to his hands. “If you didn’t have one in the first place. We never got around to talking about fetishes.”
He looked back up at me, the faintest of smiles on his lips.
“I smelt your blood and I wanted to—”
“It’s okay.”
I shook my head. Panic flared in my chest. My stomach knotted. “No. No, it’s not. I have never wanted to bite someone before, even if I could smell their blood, and the urge has never been that strong.”
“I shouldn’t have been so close to you.”
My chest tightened at the comment, and I suddenly couldn’t look at him, so I moved my focus to the oak wardrobe that faced the double bed.
“What happened to me? How did we get out?”
Brendan sighed heavily. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
“How about from this moment, backward?”
“You’ve been asleep for the last eight days. For six days, I had a tube in your mouth feeding you cranberry juice and blood. I didn’t think it would be wise to give you undiluted blood. I think that did the trick. Your wounds are almost healed.”
Funny, the mixture didn’t taste the same as before....
“I brought you to Carter’s house, a safe haven for all the Pack and any friends. This is one of the guest rooms. We are in Farr, Scotland. I woke up eight days ago. Lance had kept me sedated with monkshood. The effects have only just worn off, and I can function without the help of the Pack’s energy. Thankfully, Lance wasn’t as smart as he thought because he didn’t give me huge amounts of the monkshood, and once I woke up, I got thrown into a room with an Infected, or so I thought.”
At his sudden silence, my gut twisted. My mind filled with darkness and a cold room smelling of fresh blood. I had sat alone and I had been so thirsty, then the door opened. They pushed Brendan inside and locked him in with me. Instead of being grateful, or even, dare I say, happy to see him, I attacked him, because I craved his blood.
I blinked back the tears surfacing and swallowed bile, not wanting to think about his face as he stared at me in horror, or how he had talked to me, kept his arms locked around me so I couldn’t hurt either of us. For some reason, the image appeared so boldly in my mind, as if my darker side wished to taunt me. I had just wanted his blood, and nothing else mattered. Lance had force-fed me pure animal blood, then starved me, and for what? So he could see how “moral” the born Infected was? So he could time how long it took me to snap, like any other Infected?
“What is the secret, Heather? What do you take?” Lance had asked.
I wouldn’t tell him.
“Looks like I will just have to test my theory.”
Lance fed me the blood only to figure out how I managed to survive; it was just another experiment. Bastard. But how long had he starved me? How long did it take me to get that way? My body had been dehydrated, anyway. One taste of pure animal’s blood and I went loco.
“Living Vampire.” His amused voice rang in my head.
Vampire. Of course, I snapped so easily. I’m as bad as the rest of the bloodsuckers. He got to see how long it took me to snap. I bet he enjoyed every minute of it.
If he had continued to feed me blood, would I have been okay? Would I have functioned as easily as they do, needing to feed only when hungry? If Lance hadn’t starved me, if he had just fed me diluted blood, would that have worked? Would I have still attacked Brendan?
My head throbbed.
I’d been out of it for eight days, but despite the sudden urge to rip Brendan’s vein open, I felt okay. The burning thirst that usually came after I had skipped my mix didn’t sear my throat. He had fed me for six days straight, though.
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
I didn’t realize he heard me, until he suddenly sat at the bottom of the bed facing me, far out of reach. His intent gaze burned a hole in my forehead, but I kept my blurred focus on the wardrobe.
I had attacked him twice, maybe more since my memory was a little patchy at the moment. And here I sat, with tears in my eyes like some weak and stupid little girl.
“You asked me to kill you if you became one of them. You’re not one of them,” he finally said.
No, I’m something a lot worse. I am what they want to be: a living Vampire. How fucked up is that? I dropped my head and stared at my shaking hands. “I told you t’kill me.”
“I know.”
“I told you if anything happened t’me, you should kill me.”
“You have been....” he took a deep breath. “You have been what you are since birth and you have controlled every sick little impulse; those bastards have not. You are better than they are, stronger.”
“I’m not.” I shook my head, hating the way my voice cracked.
“You are, Heather. You have fought this thirst, this craving, for your entire life. You are more human than Vampire. More human than an Infected. I didn’t kill you because I refuse to believe you can’t fight it.”
>
“That wasn’t your choice to make.” I rubbed my hands over my face, pushing away any tears that may have escaped.
“Well, I’m sorry, Slayer, but that’s the choice I made. I promised I would keep you safe, and I failed.”
I looked up at him. “You didn’t know that we would get—”
“I should have known something. I didn’t even sense the Leeches in that damn blood house until it was too late.” He moved off the bed and walked to the window. “I also promised I would keep you alive, so if you’re gonna drop dead, do it on someone else’s watch.”
“I am not your responsibility,” I said to his back.
“I made a promise.”
“Promises can be broken.”
“Not this one.”
The comment confused me, but before I had time to ask him what the hell he meant, he continued talking.
“If I hadn’t gone to London, you would have died that night. Carlson would have killed you.”
“Yes, he would have, and maybe that’s what should have happened. I should have died, and then at least Lance wouldn’t have tested me and got whatever results he had hoped for, so he can now revive all those Infecteds that are sedated within the facility.”
The large room slammed into my brain, the rows of patients, their heart monitors beating in unison.
“There are Infecteds in the facility?” His shoulders tensed at the news.
“Yes, about a hundred. He wants to make them like me. That is why he fed me blood. I wouldn’t tell him how I had survived this long without taking the same road most Infecteds do. So he conducted another test.”
“You should have told him.”
“What, so he can do the same to the others?”
“He’s still going to use the results he got from both of us on them. If you had told him, you wouldn’t have had to go through all that pain.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. I didn’t tell him, and he tested his feeding theories out on me, and now he wants to use his knowledge on those Infecteds.”
“I’ll speak to Carter.”
I couldn’t leave them there. I had to do something. Despite what Carter might say, I had to do something. I had to help them.
“This shouldn’t have happened.”
“But it did.”
“If you would have just let Carlson kill me, then that would have been that. I would be dead and you wouldn’t have gone through all the shite you did at the facility; stuff you shouldn’t have gone through in the first place. All my problems have nothing to do with you. My Gran shouldn’t have brought you into this.”
“Well, she did.” He looked in my direction, his arms folded across his chest as he leant against the windowsill. “If you die, you can’t kill Marko, remember? That’s what you want. That’s what is important to you.”
“It’s not the only—”
“You’re not dead, and we both had fun at the facility. So instead of getting angry and moaning about what’s already happened, forget it.”
“No. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.” The skin on my forehead tightened as my hands balled into fists. “I fucking attacked you at the facility, Brendan, and I just tried to bite you.”
The left corner of his lip curled up slightly. “Maybe you’re starting to like me.”
“This isn’t funny.”
His small grin disappeared, and his face darkened.
“I’m trying to apologize and you’re cracking jokes.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Heather,” he said slowly. “Lance did this to you. It wasn’t you. You didn’t slip. You were pushed. He starved you and left you in that room. I have no idea for how long, but you didn’t have your mixture for the entire time we’d been kept there, and you said yourself that you need to drink four litres a day to help you function. So, it wasn’t your fault.”
I nodded and gulped back the sob burning in my throat.
“I mean it, Heather. It was not your fault.”
The mattress dipped as he sat beside me. His warm hand rested on mine.
“Go away.” I moved my hand from under his. “I don’t want t’hurt you.”
Light laughter invaded my ears as his hot breath skated over my left cheek.
“Liar. You’ve wanted to hurt me since we first met.”
I shook my head. “I wanted to kill you for breaking into my house and dumping a load of impossible information on me. And possibly for talking non-stop and maybe for letting Luca get away.”
“Like I said, you’ve wanted to hurt me since we met.”
I looked at him through blurred vision. “You can be seriously annoying.”
“Part of my charm.” A small smile emerged on his lips. “Besides, it’s not like you can hurt me anyway, remember? I’m a Werewolf.”
I offered him a faint grin. “Werewolf or not, I could still kick your arse.”
A tiny spark of emerald burst in his dulled eyes. He laughed. “Maybe, but you’re not attempting it today, Slayer.”
His gaze wandered across my face. My heart ran up my throat as we looked at each other. Small specks of gold danced around his irises. He ran the pad of his thumb across the top of my hand; the heat from his skin travelled up my aching, weighted arm.
“So....” I pulled my gaze from his and looked at the bedroom door. “I’m in a house full of Werewolves?”
“At the moment, yes.”
“Well, that makes me feel so much more comfortable.”
His deep chuckle vibrated up my arm and down my spine. “You’re safe here.”
“I know.” I certainly felt it, more so than I did in my own house. Perhaps I just felt safe with him? And that thought terrified me.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked, moving his hands from mine and standing up. “Or do you want to go back to sleep?”
“At the moment, I would really like to use the bathroom; six days’ worth of liquid in the system is rather uncomfortable.”
Brendan pulled back the covers. Cool air beat against my sensitive, bare legs. He offered me his hand. After I stared at it for a moment, he laughed.
“Just take my hand, Heather.”
I pulled myself gently out of the bed, and then placed my hand in his.
“You have been off your feet for a while, so I don’t know how steady you’ll be.”
I nodded and pushed myself off the bed; slight licks of pain travelled up my calves and thighs, irritating the bruised muscles as I stood. At my whimper, Brendan wound his right arm around my waist.
“Are you okay?”
I hissed as a duller pain throbbed up my right side.
“Shit. Sorry.” He loosened his grip.
“It’s okay. I just—” I took a deep breath, then exhaled. “I’m a little sore, that’s all.”
“Do you want me to carry you?”
“No. No, thank you.”
“Well, the bathroom is just through the door next to the dressing screen.”
We slowly walked across the room.
Pins and needles shot through my legs with every step. Surprisingly, my teeth hadn’t cracked from the pressure of them grinding, since I’d clamped my mouth tighter than a lid on a jar.
Brendan pushed open the mahogany door, then switched on the light. The white-washed bathroom felt as impersonal as the bedroom. Fresh white towels hung neatly from a silver heating rack; a full bottle of lavender hand soap sat on the counter. My focus settled on the giant tub and the assorted soaps neatly arranged on a small shelf beside it. I walked to the white ceramic sink and placed my hands on the bowl while Brendan stood awkwardly beside me.
“Would it be okay if I used the bath?” I asked, gulping through the fading licks of pain.
“Sure.” He plugged the drain, then turned on the taps. Next, he picked up a pink bottle and popped the cap. He tipped the liquid under the hot, running water. I smiled as the scent of strawberries f
loated up with the tendrils of steam and filled the dry, scentless air.
“I don’t need you to help me with anything else.” I laughed lightly as he eyed my clothes. I still wore the male’s shirt from the night at the blood house, and my underwear; my jeans and boots had vanished, but thankfully, the dark, filthy shirt stopped mid-thigh. I smelled the stink of dry Vampire blood, dirt, chemicals, and sweat. I felt so dirty and sore.
“I didn’t fully undress you this time,” he said with a smile.
“How sad you must have been.”
“I’m sure there will be plenty of other opportunities.”
“I wouldn’t count on it, Wolf Man.”
“Will you at least let me help you take your bandages off?”
I stood straight and pulled up the shirt. Tightly-wrapped bandages covered my entire midsection. A lick of heat surfaced in my cheeks as I realized I had just flashed my knickers at the man. Not that it really mattered, since he had apparently seen my personal items one too many times before.
I nodded hesitantly, and he walked over to me.
“Another souvenir.” I tried to joke as he stood close to me. His hands gently slid around my back as he unclipped the bandage and began to unravel the cloth. “Do I want to be reminded of why I hurt in this general area?”
He looked down at me through golden eyes. “You...you had two of your ribs cracked.”
“Ah.” I shivered slightly as the steamy air touched my sensitive flesh.
“Graham, the Pack doctor, sorted you out.”
“Please don’t tell me you all spat on me?”
The smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips. “No, we didn’t spit. Cracked ribs on an average human take a week’s rest for the pain to settle and seven weeks to heal. You heal quicker than that, especially when you have your mix.”
He’s been paying attention, at least.
“I’m no mathematician, but since you drank your mix for six days straight, I would say you will be as good as new in just over a week.”
I took a quick breath as his hot fingertips brushed over my abdomen. His scent mixed with the smell of strawberries and the sound of his breathing echoed in my ears. The sheer awareness of him made goose bumps rise on my arms and back.
“But, that is, if you don’t over-exert yourself, which, knowing you, you probably will.”
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