by Jackie Ivie
“How old are you?” she asked next.
“Thirty-nine.”
“Hmm. Fit. Mature. Nice. Very...very nice.”
She stepped closer. Looked right up at him. Even greenish-tinted through the goggles, her eyes were a font of allure. A well of mystery. Dark. Unfathomable. They dragged his gaze into contact. Warmth sparked within his chest and then spread outward, caressing his heart. It stopped his breath. He wondered if it was in response to locking gazes with her. Or how her voice had lowered. Or what had sounded like words of praise. He blinked and somehow eased a breath in. And then back out.
“What are you doing here?”
“Research.”
Another instant answer came from his mouth. As if she controlled his will. That should have been spooky. It wasn’t. The shiver that ran along his spine wasn’t remotely chilled or scared. It was enjoyable. But then her eyes narrowed. His heart did a strange stutter step before it resumed beating. Only this time the pace was a bit faster. It had a strange echo, too.
“What are you researching?”
“Ghosts.”
“Why?”
“It’s my job.”
“You chase ghosts?”
“Uh. No.”
Now, why – if he had to run into the most gorgeous woman on the planet – did she really need to have preconceived erroneous notions about his profession? That didn’t seem fair. That might mean luck was out of his probability factoring of moments earlier and this was a psychotic episode.
And that was a complete shame.
“No?”
He shook his head. Not only did that make a strange ringing start in his ears, but the goggles started fogging up around the edges, too. It took a few seconds for the ringing to subside. Another few before he could focus through the opaque mist that framed the scene.
This was getting ridiculous.
“What do you chase...Cameron?”
Oh. Shit.
His name had never sounded like this. Sexy. Illicit. Almost kinky. And for some damn reason, his groin got the message before he did. His eyes widened as he felt it. He almost looked down to verify. He could feel a flush creep up his chest. Enter his jaw line. Stain his cheeks.
He was blushing?
Oh. Double shit.
He cleared his throat. “I am a paranormal phenomenon researcher.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“All kinds of phenomena?”
“Yes.”
“How...fortuitous for us.”
He blinked several times, trying to force his mind to think. Didn’t do much. Her words didn’t make any sense.
“What are you wearing?”
“Khakis. Shirt. Socks. Shoes.” She frowned at his answer. He didn’t want that, so he quickly added more, making a question of the final items. “Undershirt. Boxers. Uh...belt. Wallet. Keys? Lip balm?”
“I meant these.”
She reached up and touched his goggles. She had a perfectly toned arm. Used an elegant gesture. Her dress only added to the entire package as the fabric shifted. The move was pure poetry in motion. A pleasure to watch. Another shot of electrically-charged stimuli hit his groin. He almost groaned. He’d never even imagined a woman with this kind of beauty, perfect body, astounding grace.
None of which stopped his immediate answer, however. “These are night vision goggles. Special made. Equipped with a camera.”
“Night vision.”
It wasn’t a question. He answered it anyway. “Yes.”
“Does that mean you can see me?”
And then some... He was actually surprised he hadn’t verbalized the instant thought. “Yes.”
“Take them off.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
“I won’t be able to see.”
She smiled. His entire frame lurched oddly, as if she’d touched him with a live wire. And the khakis that had seemed roomy and well-lived-in were now tighter across his hips than the strip of spandex he’d worn as swimwear in his high school years.
“I will. And I really want that.”
She could see in the dark? And why did he question it? It should be obvious. But that was impossible. Wasn’t it? He was outside his training, education, and experience here. He’d had contact with ghosts before. It had started in his teens. That’s why he’d become a researcher. But no ghost looked this real, sounded this distinct, and stirred all kinds of interest like this woman did.
He pulled down the goggles. He’d been right. Until his eyes accustomed, it was pitch black. He couldn’t see a damn thing.
“Oh, Cameron Preston. Oh, my. My. My.”
Her voice went even lower. It gained a presence and then reached out to his lower abdomen with a tight grip. That caused Cam to do something completely out of character. He stood straighter bumping his head, tightened every muscle at his command, and actually stuck out his chest. Like he preened for her.
Oh, man.
He might have gone insane, but what a way to go.
“Look at you. You are a handsome man. Very handsome. I am so lucky.”
The whispered words filled the space. Her breath caressed the skin just below his ear. Her fingers touched his cheek, lifting barely-there stubble as she slid along his skin. He reacted with tremors that strengthened as she neared. Closer. His breath held. His heart stopped. His entire being shook, caught up in a grip of unbelievable expectancy. Anticipation. Impatience.
She licked his throat. Did something more. And sent shards of ecstasy shooting through his veins. Cam groaned and rocked backward. His legs gave him trouble. He locked his knees before he dropped. He no longer cared if he’d gone mad. His body was a riot of instant euphoria. Intense satisfaction. Absolute bliss.
Light bloomed from somewhere. The woman immediately reacted and pulled back. That stopped the pleasure she’d been dealing out. It had the effect of a slammed door. Cam could barely see. Function. And his analytical skills took over. He didn’t question how or why. He didn’t have time. Gather data. Evaluate. Respond.
Light source: Stairwell.
Probable cause: BPRG idiot with a flashlight.
Action: Face the threat. Protect the woman.
He stepped forward and pivoted, shoving the woman behind him. The man on the steps wasn’t using a flashlight. He had a headlamp. With a high LED rating. And worse, the jerk had his crossbow up, and pointed directly at Cameron.
“Get out of the way, Doc!”
The voice identified him. Scott. Footsteps pounded across the floor above them, sending dust particles into the spotlight. A couple of moments later and Cam was facing another BPRG asshole, this one aiming at them with his squirt gun.
“Move! That’s an order!” Scott yelled.
Shit!
Cam heard a hissing sound from behind him. Got doused with a stream of water that sent him back several steps. He hadn’t known their squirt guns had that kind of power. Cam collided with the woman. Grabbed her about the waist with his left arm and hugged her into his back, while he swiped liquid from his eyes with his right hand.
And that’s when the asshole in front released his arrow.
CHAPTER FIVE
Everything went into slow-motion. Extreme slow-motion. Sound stopped. The guy with the squirt gun’s expression reflected horror. He couldn’t tell about Scott. His headlamp was too bright. Everyone seemed to watch the arrow slam into Cam’s solar plexus. He did, too. As if it happened to someone else.
Anyone else.
That changed as pain hit and then intensified. Cam forced his mind to cancel it. He needed to stay sharp. Clear. Focused. He had to deny the physical. It was an instantaneous reaction. It’s how he handled pain. He’d broken bones. Suffered contusions. Lacerations. Trauma. He knew if his mind stayed on task, it helped control the body’s response to injury. Reduce trauma. Absorb agony.
It wasn’t working.
His chest was turning into a mass of solid fire. The arrowhead must have exit
ed out his back, almost reaching the woman behind him. He looked down. The shaft still trembled where it impaled him. There wasn’t much blood. Not in front, anyway. His knees wavered.
List damage, Cameron!
He had flesh trauma. Pierced lung. Potential broken rib(s). He couldn’t tell heart damage. He concentrated. His heart was still beating. It sent a throb of pain with each one, but it was still working. He might actually survive this. He had to count heartbeats. Then he’d know for certain.
He started.
One.
Two.
He took a breath. It was a small gasp. Sounded like it contained bubbles. Felt like hell.
Count, damn it!
Three.
Another arrow flew past his left ear, taking a chunk of something with it. Cam didn’t feel any pain. He sensed the wetness as blood slid down his neck. And that’s when the sense of slow-motion ended, turning the place into complete and utter chaos.
He got showered with another burst of water, mainly dousing his head. The woman gave a cry of pain. One of the BPRG men shouted. The other cursed. An extremely loud, unbelievable feral shriek came from somewhere close. It was followed by a flash of something metallic. The primary light source went flying across the cellar with a zigzag motion. Cam’s eyes subconsciously followed as it smacked a far wall and just rocked in place. It took a second to realize it was the headlamp. Another second to realize there was a severed head attached to it.
His legs buckled. He dropped to his knees. His heart gave another beat. This time, it was extremely painful. Protracted. And heavy. He couldn’t recall if it was the fourth since he’d started counting. Maybe the fifth? He tried concentrating again but his chest was being overtaken by fire. It licked its way along his skin and roasted his innards. And it just kept growing.
He had to get the arrow out.
No. He had to leave it there. It was the only thing keeping him from bleeding to death.
Screw that. The pain was unimaginable. He could roast marshmallows with the level of fiery agony overtaking him. He had to get the arrow out.
Cam sent the message to his limbs. His left arm didn’t respond. Great. He’d use his right. He gripped the arrow shaft. Pulled outward. And howled with the agony.
A high-pitched scream came from the stairwell, overpowering any sound he made. Cam huffed through another gasped breath. His heart gave another beat. He looked up.
“Oh, Cameron! No! Stop! Leave it there!”
Something resembling entrails and limb pieces spattered through the area in his immediate vision range. The woman came into view. She was covered in blood and looked like she’d been through a meat grinder from the neck down. Her face hadn’t been touched, but it was twisted into a torturous expression he didn’t wish upon anyone. His heart reacted with an agonized thump. And he’d thought it pained before.
For some reason, the knowledge that she’d suffered such grievous injuries made his pain seem paltry. Small. Nothing hurt worse than a burn. And she looked like she was suffering the third degree kind. She knelt beside him. His brain continued gathering data while his eyes grew moist. Her dress hadn’t been affected. That was weird. Had they used some kind of acid? Those bastards. She tossed a hatchet down to the floor beside him. Cam looked at it. Then back at her.
She’d used a hatchet?
Where the hell had that come from?
“Don’t pull it! That shaft is stopping blood loss!”
“I...know.”
He choked on the last word. Froth came with it, moistening his lips. He licked at it. Tasted the metallic tang of blood. Yep. He had a punctured lung. Maybe both of them.
“We have to leave! We can’t stay here!”
“Right.” Cam would have chuckled if his body would support the reaction.
“I don’t know how many Hunters there are!”
“Hun...ters?”
“We have four hours! Maybe a little more. You don’t understand.”
Four hours? She was being optimistic. He doubted he had four more minutes.
“Oh. My. This is going to hurt.”
Cam stiffened. “W-w-worse?”
She rubbed her hands together. He watched her struggle through two gasped breaths and for some damned reason, he mimicked both of them.
“I have to carry you.”
He chuckled. Absolute hellfire jerked that reaction to a halt. More froth bubbled out of his mouth. Cam mentally cursed.
“You’re covered...in Holy Water.”
She inhaled a large breath and held it. He did the exact same thing. She didn’t look like she enjoyed it, and his was a complete inferno of pain. And then she grabbed him to her.
The move jostled the arrowhead at his back and Cam lost control. He bellowed in agony. The sound almost drowned out her moan. Then she was moving. Rapidly. Almost sickeningly. The scene of carnage in the cellar became a blur of blood and bone. A red wash colored the entire area. And he smelled something horrid.
Burning flesh?
Her arms tightened about his waist. She pivoted, pulling him as they moved backwards. They flew past the ladder. She hit into the double doors, smacking them open. The arrow got jostled again, but for some reason it didn’t seem to pain as much. That could be due to victim trauma. He knew a body could only absorb so much pain before nerve endings cut off sensation. Then again, he could be dying. They said pain ebbed when that happened as well.
He’d like to think it was due to the instant cool feeling of being outside. The BPRG leader hadn’t exaggerated earlier. It was definitely raining. The wetness relieved some of the burning sensation as they moved, the speed of their passage creating their own wind.
Because they were flying.
Oh. No way, Cam.
This was impossible. Unbelievable. Mindboggling. To an infinite degree. There was no way this could be happening. He had to face facts. Reality. Universal law was just that – universal. But that didn’t stop any of this.
None of it might be real, but that sure didn’t cancel any of it. And he was going to die.
~~~
Tessa had never changed a human over. She remembered how. She’d paid full attention to everything Akron had taught her. The timing was the crucial part. The human needed to hover at death. Take their last gasp. Their heart give a final beat. Only then, could a change work. They needed to ingest a vampire’s blood. A taste first, and then enough to replenish and resuscitate. But how much was that? And once she gave him her blood, was his change instantaneous? And if so, would she still have enough strength to control him? And what would happen if the sun came up? She had a little immunity. She could handle weak sunlight. Especially if it was raining. She’d be fine, if a bit weakened. But she had to consider Cameron Preston. Her mate. The one and only.
Oh. This was impossible! She couldn’t risk changing him. A new vampire would be extremely vulnerable. But...if she waited too long?
She tried to move faster. Raindrops diluted the Holy Water that had drenched them. Made the pain bearable. Her skin was already healed as they cleared the dock area. Raced along the waterfront. Reached the opening to her particular bayou. She moved quicker, becoming a blur of movement. Held Cameron as close as possible. Her arms and legs enwrapped him, as if that would will her strength to him.
It wasn’t enough.
He wasn’t going to make it.
Death had a grip on him. She could tell without looking. He wouldn’t make it to the Dark Plantation. She needed at least thirty more minutes. Or a hiding spot. Dark. Private. Secure. She scanned the ground but rotting trees, wildlife, and swamp filled her vision. The sky grew lighter. Dawn was moments away. She was going to fail. Lose her one chance at love. Companionship. Physical mating.
Tessa began shaking. Tears filled her eyes. Weakness entered her newly awakened heart and then leached into her limbs. She wasn’t capable of doing this. She didn’t have enough training. No experience. She was going to fail and lose again – just like the still-birthed babe that spe
lt her doom...
They dropped several feet.
Her toes skimmed water.
And then everything hardened.
No. That had been the old Tessa. She wasn’t a scared young woman, pulled from her bed and ordered to attend a brutal birthing. Forced to watch the woman suffer and the babe die because she didn’t know what to do. And all while the overseer stood in the foyer below.
...with his whip.
And then she saw it. A fallen log. With a large dark interior. Hollow-enough. Above the water. Dry. Dark. Tessa held Cameron with one arm while she scooped the area clear. It wasn’t perfect. But it would work. And it was about to get worse. She couldn’t turn him with a wooden stake through him. Tears fogged her vision as she snapped the arrow from the shaft where it protruded from his back. She blinked them back. She didn’t have time for emotion!
Cameron coughed. It was a barely-noticeable gesture. Frighteningly weak. She yanked the shaft from his chest with a swift gesture. His body jerked. He didn’t make a sound. Tessa enfolded him and slid backwards into the enclosure just as a shaft of sunlight pierced the area they been in. It illuminated the man in her arms. The sight was heart-stopping. Terrifying. His skin was ashen. There wasn’t much blood from his wound, either. It was a mere trickle of wetter darkness on his shirt.
She had moments.
Maybe.
Tessa concentrated and her fangs responded, going to piercing length, killer sharpness.
“Cameron?” she whispered.
He gave what looked like a wince. He didn’t breathe. She couldn’t remember when she’d last experienced a heartbeat. Tessa slashed a canine across her wrist and had it above his lips before the blood welled. She twisted her arm. Blood started dripping. Dark fluid coated his mouth. Slid down his cheeks. Dropped uselessly to the wood beneath them.
“Cameron!”
She hissed it against his ear. Jostled his body against hers. She couldn’t be too late! She’d done everything that was required. Even the timing felt right.