by Prince, DD
“No, Sam.”
“Sorry, darling. You haven’t much choice. He needs you.”
He went to lean over and lift her but she screeched and tried to struggle.
He sighed and put her down and backed up. He put his hand over his forehead a second and then lifted his phone from his jeans pocket and tapped the screen, then put it to his ear, “Tristan. She’s resisting. Yeah. Alright. Okay.”
He glanced at her, “Word of advice. Not a good idea to struggle against a vampire who is already fighting his predatory urges. Okay? You’re teaching an old dog patience; you know that?” And then he left.
She was alone. She took a few slow calming breaths and another sip of the orange juice on the bedside table.
Not long later, she was still wondering what the heck was going on and wishing she had the strength to run, but then Sam was back.
She felt strong enough to stand. She put a hand up to block him,
“Stay back. I’m not going anywhere with you!”
“Sweetheart, save your strength. Here. Take this dagger. I ran to fetch it. If I get out of line, shove it in me and then carry it with you. Any vamp gets near you, poke him or her and they’ll be out like a light. Okay?” He passed it to her.
She held it up and inspected it. It felt heavy, old, and like power emanated from it, which was an odd sensation.
“For how long?”
“Stick it in, just a quick jab, yank it out and they’ll go down long enough for you to run away if you’re quick about it. A few minutes. Stick it in and keep it in and they’ll stay down until it’s removed. I’ll carry you. Faster that way and less exposure for you to others.”
She was hesitant, “Why don’t you carry Tristan here?”
“He’s a vampire but he’s still a guy. The only way a guy’d let another guy carry him is if he were unconscious.”
She chewed her lip. She didn’t have a good feeling about this.
“Alright, I hate to do this to myself but jab me quick and then wait so you can see it works and know you’ve got the upper hand. Just not the heart, please. That would be the end of me. And don’t think about going it alone without me. You need me. If you want, call Tristan to confirm---” before he finished she jerked forward and jabbed him with the dagger quick, poking him in the ribs with it. Barely any force at all and it jabbed him as if she’d plunged it with all her strength. He grunted and went to the floor and was out.
She leaned forward and got into his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone and went to the last number dialed and hit it.
“What now? Fuck, just grab her and hurry!” was how he answered but his voice sounded weak, exhausted.
“Tristan?” she gasped.
“Baby?” his voice was a song in her heart.
She let out a big breath.
“What’s happening? Why are you calling me?”
“I jabbed Sam with the dagger and he’s out.”
“Shit. Where?”
“In the bedroom at the cottage.”
“No, where on Sam?”
“His ribs.”
“Okay. You need him. Take the dagger out.”
“It’s already out. I just poked.”
“Okay, then you have to wait. Wait for him to wake up and he’ll bring you to me.”
“Tristan you said never ever trust any vamp alone, even Sam.”
“I know, princess, but I have no choice right now. I’m depleted. Sam’s medicated. Medicated to lethal levels to get you to me without hurting you. And he and I are good. Some things have come to light. We don’t have a whole lot of time before it wears off. When he comes to, get to me.”
“Should I come alone now? Try to…”
“Wait for Sam.”
“Okay.”
“Fuck, baby…”
He let that hang.
“Yeah,” she choked out, in agreement.
They were both just holding the phone then.
And then Sam started to stir.
“He’s moving.”
“Watch him when he wakes in case the medication has worn off. It shouldn’t, but…”
“He’s awake. He isn’t trying to attack.”
Sam gave her a sour look and got to his feet slowly grunting, “Damn, that smarts.”
He lifted the hem of his t-shirt and rubbed the spot, which had a puncture that wasn’t bleeding, strangely, and then it faded before her eyes to a bruise, and then he dropped the hem of the shirt and held his palm out at her.
“Your chariot, mademoiselle…” Kyla held tight to the dagger and said to Tristan, “I’m on my way,”
“Okay,” he said softly and then she handed Sam back the phone and took his hand.
He jerked her forward and hefted her up into his arms and then zoomed out of the room, down the stairs, and out the wide open front door. He wasn’t as fast a whoosher as Tristan but they were to the main house quickly.
He set her on her feet as he opened the door.
“Slip that dagger into your sleeve and be casual. No eye contact,” he said. “You’re strong enough to walk?”
She nodded.
They walked through the front foyer, which was empty and instead of walking down the hall toward Adrian’s office or that big lounge area that led to the staircase, they walked in the opposite direction down an identical hallway jutting out in the opposite way.
There were several doors along that hallway and thankfully they hadn’t seen anyone so far. They got to the end of the hall and Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a key card and pressed it against the reader. It clicked and the light flashed green. He opened and held a glass door. She went ahead.
They were in a tiny alcove that had two more glass doors: one to the left and one to the right. He put the key card against the reader on the right and it clicked, turned green, and he opened it for Kyla. She stepped in.
She glanced back, feeling something prickle on the back of her neck and saw a man standing there behind the glass door that was on the left. He put his palm against the glass and leaned forward, his forehead against the glass and it hit her like a ton of bricks that he looked exactly like Jackson. EXACTLY like him. Blond curly hair, big brown eyes, big shoulders.
Jackson who had jumped off a bridge, been put on life support, and was to have the plug pulled causing her to flee Ottawa to Toronto, to head toward what would eventually lead her right here.
He sucked on his lower lip and looked at her longingly and her heart seized for a split second.
“Sam?” she looked ahead at the back of Sam’s head for a quick second.
“Hmm?” He was a good ten paces ahead of her in a long door-lined hallway that had a set of double doors at the end.
She looked back over her shoulder and whoever had been at the other door was now gone.
“Sam?”
He turned around and looked at her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Who was that?”
“That who? Who was who?”
“At that other door,” she pointed, “That door back there? It looked like…” She shook her head.
It couldn’t be. Could it? The lip sucking was even characteristic of Jax.
She said it out loud, starting to walk again, “No, it couldn’t have been.” It was like Jackson but cleaned up, healthier-looking. Not strung out. Not hooked up to tubes and machines and…
Sam blew out a long breath and Kyla’s heart skipped a beat.
“It was,” he said. “That conversation’ll have to wait for later.”
Oh…My …Fucking…
What?
She didn’t have time to process that thought, though, because he pressed his thumbprint and the key card against panels on the next door and opened it and a light flashed red on the panel so he grabbed her hand, put her thumb against the panel, and then it turned green and he motioned for her to go ahead. She gave him a quizzical look.
“It sensed two bodies. I have to identify the second body for the database or it’ll trip t
he alarm.”
She nodded and moved ahead into a big room that looked like a lab. There were was a long counter littered with microscopes, cabinets along one wall filled with bottles, and a long desk with several computer monitors. There was a glass wall with a glass door beyond the desk and Sam opened it and she walked in to an area that what was set up like a bedroom.
Adrian was on the floor, unconscious, his face beaten to a bloody pulp. Behind him was a double bed and Tristan was in it. Her heart seized at the sight of him.
He was sitting up against a red suede headboard, dark blankets around his waist. He was bare chested, unshaven, looked a little pale, and his eyes were bloodshot. But he looked, essentially, like himself. Sam leaned down and hefted Adrian up over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold.
“We’ll give you two some privacy,” Sam left the room with him, saying, “call when you’re ready and I’ll let you out.”
Kyla’s eyes met Tristan’s. The world stood still as he stared at her.
“Get over here,” he said hoarsely, almost in a whisper. His voice sounded pained.
She moved in what felt like slow motion and then collapsed on top of him. His arms wound around her and he pulled her close.
She closed her eyes, let out a breath, and absorbed the feel of him, the smell of him, the strength of him. Weak or not, he still felt so solid, so real.
God, he felt so good.
She could feel him inside. His teeth weren’t even connected yet but she could FEEL him and what she felt made a sob tear out of her as her arms went around him.
The room started to spin. Her blood started to heat up. Her body started to tremble, and then his nose swept up the length of her throat, his teeth elongated into the curve of her throat, and as the skin was pierced, BAM! Fireworks.
An explosion and an overwhelming sense of peace at the exact same time flooded. Like this is where she needed to be. In his arms, nourishing him. Him nourishing her. She felt like she was getting healthier and healthier by the millisecond. So was he.
He drank just a bit and released her throat. He sighed loud. She looked at his face. The colour was returning.
But then emotions started to rise in her and they were hers and they were his, too and there was so much of it that she didn’t know if she could handle it all. Her brain was a jumbled kaleidoscope of emotion. And then evidently she couldn’t handle it at all because everything faded to dark as she got dizzier and then passed out in his arms.
-10-
Kyla woke up. She was back in that cottage, back in that sleigh bed she’d been in for the last week without him. Again, she was without him.
She sat up straight, hearing a commotion of glass shattering and yelling. She dashed out of the room and got half way down the stairs and saw Tristan, Adrian, and Claudio all standing close and, it appeared that they were all in one another’s faces. No. Tristan was in both of their faces and both men appeared to be trying to reason with him.
Kyla felt fear straight down to the marrow at the vibe coming off Tristan. His eyes darted up to her.
“Back upstairs, Kyla,” he demanded and then he grabbed Adrian’s shirt with both hands and hollered, “Out!” and threw Adrian toward the door.
Claudio headed toward the door as Adrian rose to his feet.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“We won’t. I’m done,” Tristan said. “As soon as that dagger he promised me is ready I’m taking it and I am gone. Have it to me early, Constantin. I fuckin’ mean it!”
“Sleep on this and let’s talk in the morning. Don’t be hasty,” Claudio said.
“Hasty? Are you kidding me, Claude? After what you’ve both done? I’ve been fed a trough of shit about how I’m the one to lead, to be a change agent for us. To help us move forward. But you’ve both manipulated things from the start. I’m sure you get why I’m ready to call this whole thing quits after what you’ve done. You’ve stolen from me. You’ve stolen something from me that I can’t ever get back…”
Kyla’s heart hurt so bad. So bad. She choked on a sob.
“Kyla, get the FUCK upstairs!” he shouted. There was a chair sitting beside him with a side table sitting beside it and they both moved, like they had gotten caught up in a gust of wind and landed at the bottom of the stairs, blocking her ability to get to him. Or maybe blocking Claudio and Adrian from her. She wasn’t sure. Adrian stared, wide-eyed at the furniture and then looked up at Kyla. Tristan moved in front of the furniture, his back to the staircase, to her, blocking them.
Kyla ran for the bedroom and slammed the door. The lock turned on its own. She stared at it, hyperventilating. His rage was inside of her, worse than snaking spiders, worse than the artic chill of his angry eyes when she’d tried to leave. She was bawling so hard it was as if the tears couldn’t come fast enough, couldn’t pound down hard enough. The emotion that tore out of her acid-filled stomach was gut-wrenching.
Tristan was downstairs and he was horrifying. The look on his face, the hate in his eyes. The energy coming off him. The feelings inside of him. She still felt them.
She heard a slam. And then she heard a series of bangs, crashes, and more slams.
She tried to catch her breath. She braced, waiting for him to come in. But he didn’t. She got her breathing under control and spying a bottle of water on the dresser top that was unopened, she guzzled it down.
She opened the door and quietly made her way downstairs. He wasn’t there. She moved the chair and table away from the staircase. The couch was tipped over on its face, the coffee table against the front door. Framed art pieces that’d been on the walls were on the floor. The place looked like it had been in the eye of a twister.
She wandered the main floor checking the other rooms. He wasn’t there.
Where was he? She carefully opened the front door. No one.
She closed it and walked back to the kitchen and opened the door that was there and looked outside. She saw him. He was walking. She ran back upstairs and got her shoes on and then ran back down and out and tried to catch up. She couldn’t see him. She followed the path and it led to that meadow with the swing. He was against the tree that held the swing and he was staring out at the pond. He looked over his shoulder and saw her.
“Go back to the house.”
She froze in her tracks. He wasn’t looking at her.
“I need a minute,” he said, still looking the other way.
Excruciating pain tore straight through her. She ran back to the house and up the stairs and threw herself on the bed. Her already broken heart wasn’t being glued back together by him. Instead, it shattered further.
Feelings. Fucking feelings. Fucking her over. As usual.
~~~
She woke up cocooned by his arms. It was dark and he’d just gotten into the bed. She tried to pull away, anger gripping her. His arms tightened.
“Don’t,” he whispered and held tighter.
She stayed still there for a minute, quick and shallow angry breaths coming out fast but he held tight, saying nothing.
“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered and that unleashed absolute agony inside of her. Her agony and his braided tightly together and they both felt it. All of it. She let him hold her and stroke her hair and rain kisses on her face. They said nothing. They didn’t need words because they were in some sort of mind meld.
Her pain and his pain, two mirrors facing one another, showing one another an infinite spiral of hurt.
Eventually she fell back to sleep, their hearts beating in perfect time together.
~~~
Sunlight streamed into the room. She was alone. She was alone physically but she felt like she was also alone in every way possible. She couldn’t feel him. After having felt him and not feeling him now, she felt like part of her was missing.
Panic gripped her. Was he okay? Was this what he’d felt for all this time whenever they were apart?
She got up and saw that the bag and folded tall pile of clothing were gone but t
here was a clean outfit sitting there for her. She took it to the bathroom and took a shower. When she got out she dressed in the black walking shorts and purple t-shirt and then she put on her black t-strap sandals. She headed down the stairs. She smelled coffee.
He met her at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in jeans and that cyan blue tee he’d worn the night he found her in Victoria. He had shaved, too.
He handed her a coffee cup, “Grab the rest of your things from up there and put them in our bag.” He motioned to the sofa where their things were stacked.
She took the cup and nodded and turned back around on her heel.
He hadn’t tried to kiss her, hadn’t smiled, hadn’t really made eye contact. Her heart twinged with pain.
She heard voices as she came back down the stairs with her bathroom things and what she’d worn the day before. Adrian was just inside the door and Tristan didn’t sound happy. She felt his anger, like hot bubbling liquid inside her brain.
“Don’t try to keep us here another day with your stall tactics. You told me it’d be ready today so get it to me so I can fucking go.”
“It would have been ready, Tristan, if you hadn’t repeatedly injured me, putting me at very limited capacity. It should be ready tomorrow.”
“Give me yours then.”
“I will not.” Adrian’s voice got louder. “Just one more day. I’ll do my best to have it finished.”
Kyla took a sip of her coffee and walked by them toward the kitchen, feeling them both watch her go.
She drank her coffee staring out the back door. Sam was standing there smoking a cigarette and sipping from a coffee mug. He gave her a little smile.
She opened the door half way but didn’t step out.
“Are you safe for me to talk to?” she asked.
He nodded, “Adrian developed a slow-release patch.” He patted the back of his shoulder, “Seems to be working so far. Though I’d feel better you talking to me if you had one of those daggers in your hand.”
She gave him a half-hearted smile, “It’s nice that you seem to really not want to hurt me.”
He returned the smile, “I really don’t.”
“Thanks for the help yesterday,” she said.