He closed his eyes and clenched his singed hands in an effort to stave off the wave of helplessness encroaching on him as Zarah and her team wheeled Kristin away. When had this mortal become more than just another assignment? His fear for her was real enough to make him ache marrow deep.
Dmitri? Zarah’s voice sounded in his head, clinical, emotionally detached, while inside him everything was a seething mass. She’s sustained
a few broken bones and has some internal bleeding. We are going to administer ichor to stabilize her condition. Do you know what blood type she
is?
Type O.
Thank God he didn’t need to speak to communicate with Zarah. As tight as his throat was, he wasn’t certain he’d be able to. As much as he hated the idea of her being infused with ichor without her consent, he knew it would heal her more quickly than anything else could. As long as too much wasn’t administered, she’d still be mortal. That was a big if. But he trusted Zarah implicitly. She’d make sure the balance was maintained.
There was, of course, nothing to be done with his hands. The burns had healed already, leaving his skin filthy, with new pink, quickly fading scars, but otherwise unmarked. After thanking the nurse for directing him to the restroom where he scrubbed his skin, he teleported back to the club.
Standing around useless like a lovesick swain wasn’t going to help anyone. Least of all Kristin. She was in excellent hands. Behind the closed doors of his office Dmitri phased in a set of signature sensors and programmed Vane’s imprint into their alarm code. If the vile bastard so much as curled a lip within walking distance of Sangria, he’d know in an instant. Kristin was protected within the confines of the clan complex. Vane would be unable to reach her there.
He paged Achilles. The head of security transported to his office, his chest stripped, his face half-shaven. “I’m assuming this is important or you would have called James?”
“Vane is leading the reivers. He just blew up my car in an attempt to kill the reporter.” Dmitri stuck to the facts. Achilles had no business knowing how his emotions were in a tailspin after seeing Kristin broken and bleeding. “If she dies …” He managed to speak without clenching his teeth with rage. “If she dies—especially now—it will look as though the Cascade Clan sought revenge for her articles revealing our existence. We’ve got to keep her safe.”
Achilles eyed him critically, phasing away the remaining shaving cream on his face and phasing in a clean black T-shirt. “So there’s nothing personal in this?”
“Exactly.”
“Glad to know. For a moment it sounded as if you were asking me to divert clan security from border protection to personal bodyguard duty just to protect your mortal plaything.”
Dmitri glared at him. Physically assaulting Achilles would accomplish nothing. “She is not a plaything.”
“But she is special to you. Admit it.”
“She is … important … to all of us.”
Achilles shook his head, then looked deeply into Dmitri’s eyes. “You are bonding with her, aren’t you?”
Dmitri looked away, not liking how keenly his mentor saw through him. “Not of my free choice.”
“That’s even worse.”
“Roman has threatened to sign an execution order for both of us should I fail in my duties.”
Achilles touched his shoulder, and they stared for an instant at each other, Achilles’s penetrating gaze saying far more than he ever would. Friends. Brothers. Warriors. Vampires. Achilles would stand by him when none other would, even if it came down to defending him against the clan council and Roman in a tribunal. “I’ve got three words for you, brother. Don’t. Screw. Up.”
“Sterling advice. Thanks.”
Achilles slapped him on the back. “How did you determine Vane was leading the reivers?”
“He’s the one who passed Kristin the note leading her to Balor’s body. He’s the one who had her car tagged. He’s the one with a personal grudge against me. It’s only a matter of time until he moves directly against the clan. Up till now, he’s been toying with us.”
“You should know.”
Dmitri grimaced. More than he hated having been made a vampire, he hated the fact that he shared a maker with Vane. It placed them on equal status. Two halves of the same demented coin. He’d been the cleric, Vane the aristocrat. He’d loved his human life. Vane had been grateful to be rid of mortality. He loved—He wanted Kristin safe. Vane wanted to destroy her.
His security phone buzzed with a message from the clinic. Kristin was awake. Zarah must have been too busy to reach him telepathically.
Dmitri turned back to Achilles. “I have signature sensors posted around the club, but I want 24/7 surveillance on Vane.”
Achilles raised a brow and squared his thick shoulders. “Is that an order, Trejan?”
“Yes, dammit. That’s an order,” Dmitri barked.
The trejan’s order was law within the clan. He was second in command; only Roman could gainsay him. And with the official order to watch Vane, he’d bound himself even tighter to Kristin. In fact, he’d sealed his fate with her.
Kristin blinked against the ultrabright glare of the overhead lights. She raised her hand to shield her eyes and found an IV taped to the back of her hand, one tube of a reddish-black substance and the other clear. She wrinkled her nose at the acrid smell of freshly cut lemons that seemed to permeate the room.
“Welcome back.” The confident quality of Dr. Al Kashir’s voice rubbed out some of the tension building behind Kristin’s eyes.
She struggled to focus. Wow. She could see every pore on Dr. Al Kashir’s café au lait-colored face from across the room, but couldn’t adjust to see her whole face. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and blinked again. “What’s—” She swallowed against the dryness coating her throat. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Close your eyes for a moment and I’ll adjust the lights.”
The lights dimmed, making it considerably easier for Kristin to focus properly. She scanned the room, instantly recognizing the wall of frosted glass with a gentle diffused light coming through it. She was at the clan’s medical center. Pristine sheets and a blanket covered her on the narrow bed.
She grasped the cut-crystal glass of water from the bedside table and sucked on the straw. Tepid water flooded her parched mouth and throat.
“Is that better?” the doctor asked with a slight smile. Her dark eyes were keen and penetrating, as if she could actually x-ray Kristin just by looking at her.
Kristin nodded. “Yes. Thank you, Doctor.”
“Please, as I’ve told you before, call me Zarah,” she said as she approached the bed.
Kristin frowned at a loud and unfamiliar sound. It was as if someone were rubbing a sheet of paper over a microphone inside her head. Could a concussion affect her hearing this intensely? It took her a moment to realize that the sounds she was hearing were those of the doctor’s lab coat rustling against her slacks as she moved.
Kristin covered her ears with her hands. “Why is everything so … intense all of a sudden?”
Zarah nodded, scribbling a note on the chart in her hands. “You were in an accident. Trejan Dionotte brought you to us. The effects of the ichor will wear off in time. Until then, your senses may be heightened.”
May be heightened? Her senses were on supersteroids. She could probably pick up interstellar radio signals if she focused on it. Instinctively she tried to connect the dots. She’d walked out to the car. Pressed the remote start button. But everything after that was a blank.
“How ba—” She swallowed, her throat still dry. She took another sip of water. “How badly was I hurt?”
“You had four broken ribs, a shattered vertebra and pelvis, a punctured lung, and assorted cuts and abrasions.”
Kristin glanced down at her body, her hands roaming over the hospital covers and gown. No body cast. No bandages covering stitches. How was it possible? Her eyes met Zarah’s in silent question.
“It’s the ichor. You’ve almost completely healed from your injuries, although I wouldn’t advise running any marathons or going rock climbing in the next week.” She grinned, her glance flicking to the monitors beeping and humming loudly just behind the head of Kristin’s bed.
“Healed? From all that?”
Dr. Al Kashir shrugged. “Ichor is quite powerful when administered properly.”
That was an understatement, Kristin thought. Wait until she told Beck. She’d be all over it.
She heard the slight brush of a footstep outside the door a few seconds before the tumblers in the lock clacked and clicked as the knob rotated and the door opened.
The scent of rich dark chocolate spiked with brandy filled the room, more intensely than she’d ever smelled it before, but it was underscored with something spicier, like chili peppers. Dmitri. For an instant Kristin’s vision shimmered and all she could see were his dark brown eyes. The room filled with the color, absorbing her completely.
“Ciao, tesoro.” The deep timbre of his voice resonated through her in a completely new way, making her feel as though he’d stroked her intimately. Her toes curled under the sheet, and her heart picked up a rapid, excited beat. “How do you feel?”
She couldn’t stop the goofy grin that widened across her face. “Much better. Especially now that you’re here.” Oh, God, had she said that? And in front of the doctor? Her pulse sounded unnaturally loud to her own ears, like the roar of the ocean. It mixed with the rumble of conversations she could hear in the hall and in the room next to hers. When she didn’t see the doctor’s mouth move, but heard her voice as if she were talking to another person, she suspected she was hearing thoughts too. Holy crap. She shook her head, trying to escape the wave after wave of new sensations assaulting her senses.
Dmitri grasped her hand gently. She felt the brush of his thumb over the back of her hand all over her body, focusing her senses on him alone. Good grief. This must be what that girl donor she’d interviewed had meant by feeling as if you were some kind of superhero. Ichor was certainly heady stuff, but far too intense for her liking.
Kristin knew one thing for certain. She was sincerely glad she didn’t have to deal with this sensory overload on a daily basis like vampires did. God, if this was what being a vampire was like, they could keep it. It was hard to think when every sound was amplified a hundredfold. Even more impossible to concentrate when a simple touch aroused her like foreplay.
“How do you deal with this day in, day out?” she asked.
Dmitri’s eyes narrowed. “Deal with what?”
“All this.” She slipped her hand from beneath his and felt her body contract with need. “The intensity of the light, the overwhelming smells, the loudness of sound, having to block out other people’s thoughts.”
His gaze flicked to the doctor, questioning.
“It’s only temporary. Once the ichor has been impacted by her immune system it’ll readjust to her normal levels,” she reassured him.
He gave Kristin’s hand a small squeeze. “It’s different for a full vampire. We have the ability to control our sensory input.”
Kristin shut her eyes, suddenly exhausted by trying to cope with so much at once.
“Her reaction is slightly elevated.” Kristin could feel the doctor’s gaze lingering on the twin puncture marks near her collarbone that were nearly healed. She also swore she could hear gears moving in the doctor’s brain during the long stretch of silence, and the minute cracks as her spine stiffened. Kristin shifted uncomfortably at the sudden tension in the room. “Feeding has left her more susceptible. She needs to rest until the effect is more normalized.” The pen scraped and scratched against the paper as Zarah made several more notes on her chart.
“I want her moved to my quarters when you feel she’s able.”
Kristin cracked an eye open. “I want to go home.”
Dmitri’s face turned so dark that both Kristin’s eyes popped open as she felt the blast of heat he radiated. “Not until we apprehend Vane. I’m not taking another chance on you being easy prey. You’re under protection of our clan now.” The bitter edge to his voice caused a sudden tightness in her chest, making it hard to breathe.
She swallowed reflexively against it.
“It will be as you wish, Trejan,” Zarah said, inclining her head in a bow.
Kristin’s head was now throbbing so badly she wished she could just wrap it in a big fluffy towel and stick two or three pillows over it to block out all light and sound. Tears swam in her eyes as she tried uselessly to block the cacophony assaulting her senses.
Dmitri’s brow furrowed as if he sensed her pain. “Is there anything you can give her?”
Zarah nodded and fiddled with the tubing attached to Kristin’s IV. Like a warm blanket being slowly pulled over her, a soothing relaxation claimed her little by little until she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
When she woke, she found herself in the center of Dmitri’s massive bed. It was pitch-dark, but her eyes were still able to see clearly. She listened intently, wondering if he was still there. When not a whisper of sound reached her, she threw off the comforter and staggered out of the bed, her legs far weaker than she’d anticipated.
“Running marathons. Very funny. Right now I’ll be lucky if I can stumble to the bathroom.”
After brushing her teeth and drinking a little water, she decided she might be able to make it to the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled loudly as the scent of fresh doughnuts and coffee tweaked her nose, giving her a burst of energy.
Dmitri sat at the kitchen table reading the evening edition of the paper. He looked drop-dead gorgeous in a crisp burgundy shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his strong, muscled forearms, the collar open, giving Kristin a tantalizing view.
“You look far too normal doing that,” she said, leaning against the door frame as she looked her fill at the gorgeous, sexy vampire in front of her. There was nothing normal about him, or their relationship, or about her attraction to him.
He looked at her over the edge of his newspaper, his espresso eyes dark and inviting. “Better than Taylor Lautner?”
“Oh, you have it way over him.”
A killer smile broke his face and melted her heart as he folded the paper and placed it on the table. “I intended to bring you breakfast in bed.” He stood up and pulled out the chair beside him.
Kristin padded closer, her bare feet whispering on the floor. “Careful or you’ll spoil me. Those doughnuts smell good.” She sat in the chair and shivered as he gently pulled her hair aside and kissed her lightly on her nape. Arrows of need shot straight through her. Her breasts tightened, begging for his attention.
“Not as good as you smell, I assure you.” His murmur tickled the edge of her ear. The telltale flick of his fangs extending caused a delicious shiver to race from head to toe. He wanted her.
She leaned her head back to gaze up into his eyes. “I take it you’re hungry for breakfast too?”
Bold desire darkened his features, bringing the angles of his face into stark relief. The power of him swirled around her like a living thing. “I’m hungry for you.”
He held out his hand and she slipped hers willingly into his, her skin so much paler against his Mediterranean complexion. The friction of their skin set off sparks inside her. Raw need sizzled and snapped along her nerve endings as he drew her up against him. She gasped, spreading her hands out along the broad plane of his chest, reveling in the feel of his muscles under her fingertips. His sculpted firmness fit her softness to perfection.
“After breakfast I’m giving you a bath.” The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. The thought of being naked with him made her skin burn.
“Let’s skip breakfast,” she managed to whisper roughly before he covered her mouth in a swift, possessive kiss that shook her to her core. Without effort he lifted her into his arms. Her body became one giant heartbeat, each pulse throbbing throughout her entire frame as she clung to him, her arms
around his neck.
“As my lady wishes.”
Rather than transport them, he carried her slowly, gently, as if she were some kind of fragile porcelain doll that could shatter at any moment. Endearing as it would normally be, right now all it did was piss her off. She didn’t need protecting from the fire raging inside her. She wanted to revel in it and know that she was alive. She wanted to feel all of him now. Hard and fast.
She leaned forward, rasping her lips over the tantalizing roughness of the light shadow covering his jaw. Possessed, she bit his bottom lip, suckling it for a moment. He growled, the sound vibrating deep within him, his eyes locked on hers. The heat inside her spiked.
“I’m not going to break.”
“But the accide—”
She crushed her mouth to his, cutting off his concern. When she pulled back she gave him a feral smile. “You talk too much.”
He gave her a devastating grin in return. “Must be the ichor,” he muttered, sounding almost bemused by the heat of her passion.
“Who the hell cares?” She tightened her arms around his neck. “And why am I still dressed?”
Dark fire blazed in his eyes. An instant later it wasn’t an issue. He’d phased away their clothing, leaving them both tantalizingly naked. Skin against bare skin. He let her slide down the naked length of him, feeling every ridge and ripple of his body, until her toes touched the floor. A tortured breath hissed slowly between his fangs. “God help me, woman, but you are the devil’s own temptation.”
Look who was talking. She’d never seen him naked, only imagined what he looked like. Reality far surpassed any fantasy. He was like a marble statue of some Greek god personified, all rock-hard, perfectly sculpted muscle brushed with sleek, dark hair and touchable skin. She tipped her gaze at the arrow of hair trailing down the firm ridges of his abdomen and bit her lip.
“Wow. Just wow.” She grazed her fingers along the thick length of him that jutted proudly, flexing under her exploration. Dmitri’s head fell back, his eyes closing. He groaned.
The Truth about Vampires Page 14