The vampire stumbled, his vision distorted, damaged from her blood. Black infected blood oozed from the pitted wounds. Merrick still favored his back, so the injuries evened the match between them.
If Merrick missed one block, he’d get himself killed.
She cursed her lack of knife. Desperate to arm herself, she searched the room, her gaze falling unerringly to the stake a few feet away. Snatching it to her chest, she shuffled closer, waiting for an opening to strike, but the men were exchanging blows too fast to get near.
Hands grabbed her, and she struggled to break free.
“Don’t. You’ll only be a distraction and get him killed.”
Weston’s words halted her on the spot. She turned and saw him holding his gun at the ready. His eyes tracked the fight, but he refrained from firing.
When she followed his gaze, she saw why. The men were moving so fast there was no way to get off a shot without risking Merrick. And despite the fact a bullet wouldn’t kill either of them, the injury would slow them down and give the advantage to the opponent.
Heart in her throat, Trina bided her time. She shrugged away Victor’s hold, his touch irritating her skin. Her grip on the stake tightened, her knuckles white under the strain. Despite their warning, she waited for an opening.
Merrick slashed the vampire’s face, each claw laying open the flesh of his unmarked cheek.
Which left the underside of his arm and ribs exposed. The vampire struck hard and fast, raking his nails down the tender flesh of Merrick’s side.
Neither man flinched, each waiting for the mistake that would give them an opening to strike the mortal blow. Though Merrick was nearly twice the weight, they appeared evenly matched in strength. The vampire’s fangs were more delicate, designed to slice through flesh to feed, while Merrick’s fangs were thicker, built to rend flesh from bone.
Then Merrick stilled. Panic rose as Trina frantically scanned his body. She couldn’t see anything beneath the blood that would cause him to halt. The vampire flashed his fangs in triumph and struck.
“No.” Trina charged forward, dodging away from Victor when he grabbed for her. His fingers brushed her arm before she wiggled away.
But she wasn’t in time.
The gun belched, bullets sinking deep, but not lethal enough to stop the vampire. He latched onto Merrick’s throat. Her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach at the sight of that vermin feeding from Merrick.
Gut churning, Trina rushed forward and yanked the knife out of the vampire’s back, ready to plunge it in again when she saw Merrick raise his hands.
Claws sharpened then rested against the vampire’s back in a parody of an embrace. The nails dug deeper and pushed through flesh. Bones snapped, and Merrick’s hands disappeared as they sank inside the vampire.
Chapter Twenty
Merrick’s skin grew alarmingly pale in a few short seconds. When he withdrew his hands from the cool flesh, his fingers slipped free with a slurp. Gore liberally coated his hands so that it looked like he’d dipped them in red paint up to his wrists.
In his grip rested a heart.
Knowing what he wanted, Trina brought down the stake. The wood passed through the grizzled muscle with little resistance. The heart darkened and the firm flesh softened, turning to goo in his fists.
A rattle filled the vampire’s chest.
The smell of moss and earth thickened, turning rotten as he started to decay. Despite being dead, the vampire didn’t release his hold on Merrick’s neck. The suction slowed down, stopping after three more pulls. The body thinned even more, if that was possible. Muscles melted and darkened into a black mass that dripped to the floor.
Vampires were the very devil to kill, part of the reason why they were so hard to create as well. Mortality rate for those wanting to be turned was ninety percent, and only half of those survived the first year of madness after the change.
Trina stepped around the macabre couple, saw the vampire’s pale blue eyes turn hazy, and color bleed into them as the virus keeping him alive stopped healing his body.
So why didn’t Merrick release him?
She circled, studying the hold when understanding hit. The vampire’s fangs remained imbedded into Merrick’s neck. She didn’t have the strength to snap the jaw and remove the teeth without tearing more of Merrick’s vulnerable throat.
Blood gushed down the front of Merrick’s chest in a sickening wave. She dropped her stake and applied pressure, but the venom in the vampire’s saliva prevented the blood from clotting properly.
The only reason Merrick remained standing was because of his shifter heritage. And because he was one stubborn cuss. The angle made it impossible for Merrick to free himself without doing further damage. She waved Victor over to her side. “I need you to break the vampire’s jaw. Merrick can’t afford to lose any more blood.
“Weston, I want you to get as many towels as you can and then call the infirmary.” Merrick grabbed her arm, his fingers slippery against her wrists.
“You.” The word was mostly a gurgle, but very clear.
Part of her thrilled at his request while another part of her quelled. What the hell did she know about shifters? She’d only worked with a few of them. The staff here had much more experience.
When she didn’t immediately agree, Merrick pulled on the vampire’s skull, and she quickly grabbed his hands. “I’ll do it. The boy is hurt as well. I need someone to look after him.”
The boy, Drew, was seated at a nearby table, his face pale, his eyes wide, but he was awake and moving.
“Victor, now.”
Victor did as told. Bones crunched, powder sifted over them. She guided the fangs free from Merrick’s mutilated throat.
She snatched the towels from Weston and quickly applied pressure. Blood soaked the material in an instant. She added two more to the pile and waited. With her fingers tacky with his blood and the towels saturated, panic tried to crawl up her throat. After a minute passed, she carefully pulled back the makeshift bandage.
And was greeted by another gush of blood, though thankfully, not nearly as bad.
She wiped away the mess to get a better view of the wound. The carotid was in one piece, but with two very distinct punctures. He would heal…if she could keep enough blood in him. She reapplied the pressure.
As the excitement of the fight wore off, the events caught up with her. The room spun, and she half-feared she’d fall flat on her face. The energy to use bound magic had drained her. The only thing that kept her on her feet was Merrick. If he didn’t heal soon, she might be the only one who could save him.
Conscious of his gaze on her every move like no one else existed for him, she focused on his wounds. If she looked at him, she’d fall apart.
“Are you hurt?”
Tears burned her eyes at his words. No yelling at her for sneaking out or taking her to task for risking their lives, but an inquiry about her injuries while his blood still dripped on the floor in so many puddles that her throat thickened.
She cleared her throat twice before her vocal cords would function. “You’re not healing fast enough. He took too much blood.”
“I’ll be fine.” The gravelly quality of his voice made her chest ache.
She nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “What were you thinking? The vampire could’ve ripped out your carotid.”
Merrick snorted. “Vampires are too conceited, hiding behind their immortality. He wouldn’t have given up the chance to take shifter blood.”
“You risked your life on a gamble.” She wanted to smack him for endangering his life so needlessly.
“The vampire needed the extra boost of blood to heal and fight the other shifters who would’ve prevented him from leaving.”
Trina understood what he said. The logic was sound. That didn’t mean she liked it. People poured into the room, and she was grateful for the distraction.
“What do you have?” When Glenda approached, Merrick growled. She paled, but bravely st
ood her ground.
Trina didn’t like the thought of another woman anywhere near Merrick, but despite Merrick’s protest, Trina wondered if Glenda wouldn’t be a better candidate to help him.
Trina was too emotionally involved.
What if she made a mistake that cost him his life?
One thing kept her where she stood…what if she lost Merrick because she was a coward? Glenda had more training with shifters, but Trina knew Merrick and had a fuller medical background than the other woman. She did as her heart bid, feeling both relief and trepidation. “Why don’t you take the kid to the infirmary?”
Merrick relaxed at her words then his legs folded under him.
“Grab him!” She didn’t dare loosen the pressure on his throat and dropped to her knees beside him. Merrick resisted their touch, and she shushed him. “Relax.”
He was wounded because of her. And because of her, he was in danger. If he didn’t heal soon, his pack would learn about his secret, one she swore she’d help protect.
Her atheme had landed a few feet away, the blade sparking a daring idea that was reckless and could prove dangerous to both of them…and could perhaps be the only way to save his life.
“Do you trust me?” Part of her almost wished he’d say no even though the answer would shatter her.
“Yes.” Merrick didn’t hesitate.
“Then tell everyone to leave.” The room immediately emptied of all people but Merrick, Victor and Weston. Nerves jittered through her until she thought she would be sick.
If she did this, there would be no going back.
They would find out the truth.
She grabbed her knife, flipped the blade and caught the pommel. Merrick’s trusting, green eyes haunted her with everything that could go so wrong, and she bit her lip.
There was no decision.
If she didn’t do this, he would die. She couldn’t let Merrick suffer, not after everything he’d risked for her.
Cold metal pressed against her wrist, the sharp blade barely touching her skin before Merrick captured her hand.
“Don’t.”
Conscious of the two men at her back, she focused only on Merrick and the ever-increasing pool of blood beneath them. “You and I both know that you are not well. Your wound isn’t healing. Part of that is due to the venom in the vampire’s saliva.”
“But not all of it.”
Trina shook her head. “If you leave this room without at least partially healing, everyone else will know it, too.”
Trina dropped her gaze to her atheme and blurted out the secrets she’d sworn never to share. “You saw what the vampire looked like when you entered the room. I did that with only a few drops of my blood.”
“And you want to feed that to Merrick?” Victor’s low rumble made her flinch, and she did her best to hide her reaction.
Merrick saw it anyway, and his fingers gently brushed her wrists. “Do it.”
Her gaze snapped to his, uncertain if he really meant it. His warmth gave her courage. She didn’t know if she deserved his trust, but she wanted it so desperately that she ached. “You’re sure? I’ve never tried this before. It’s all a guess. If the magic in my blood destroyed his flesh, it should be able to aid in your healing. It’s a huge gamble.”
“You wouldn’t have suggested it if you thought there was any other way.” A flicker of a smile passed over his face, gone before she could be sure. “I trust you.”
“Merrick.”
Leo waved away Victor’s objection, giving him his best shut-the-fuck-up expression. He would not have them ruin this for him. “She’s right. It’s apparent that I’m not healing fast enough. I can’t leave the room like this. Hell, without help, I wouldn’t even be able to walk on my own two feet.”
“You just fought a vampire and won. One of the oldest known vampires. No one can say the same.”
Merrick only lifted a corner of his lips in a parody of a snarl. “And I would be in the infirmary or in the ground if not for her. I won’t leave her unprotected. In the two days she’s been here, she’s almost been killed three times. How can it be that she was safer on her own than in the protection of the whole northern region pack?”
No one had an answer to that. Merrick struggled to sit, brushing away helping hands. He tossed away the towels, exposing his neck. Small incisions from the vampire’s teeth dotted his throat. The puncture wounds still wept blood, continuing its sluggish dribble down the strong column of his neck. She watched the trail of blood and, for the first time in her career, thought she would become sick at the sight of it.
Weston interrupted, “Are you sure you’re strong enough to help him?”
Trina glared at him, wishing he were closer so she could kick him when Merrick’s gaze sharpened on her.
“What does he mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Trina—”
“It’s none of your concern.” When he made to grab for her, she quickly scooted out reach.
“It is my concern when I’m supposed to be protecting you.” The stubborn jackass narrowed his eyes as if he’d found her lacking, and she hated it. If she thought her legs had the strength to hold her, she would’ve removed herself from his judgmental stare.
How could she admit to Merrick that she was a failure as a witch? That her powers were so different and volatile that other witches had shunned her.
“I can heal you if you let me.” The slight shake in her voice annoyed the crap out of her.
“Answer my question first. What did Weston mean if you were strong enough? Were you injured?” He searched her body again, detecting nothing but a few bruises. He found no open wounds. It pissed him off that he wasn’t able to stand and inspect her without passing out and falling on his face.
He’d never hated his weakness more now that it was so blatantly exposed in front of her. When he’d seen her dangling from the vampires grip, he reacted instinctively to protect what was his.
It didn’t matter that she was their property. She didn’t want to go and that was enough for him.
But something wasn’t quite right with the story the vampires gave him.
The facts didn’t match.
They didn’t outright lie, but Merrick suspected he hadn’t asked the right questions. If the vampire truly owned her, he would’ve just ordered her to return. Instead, Trina had fought him, something no slave could do without being inflicted with crippling pain.
Fought him and was losing. If he hadn’t made it in time…he cut off that thought.
The vampire had been stronger than he expected. He could’ve dragged out the fight and maybe won the battle by strength alone, but the need to tear the vampire apart in front of Trina wouldn’t let him play cat and mouse.
Now he was paying the price.
She had seen him bulk up and literally rip a man’s heart from his chest. Instead of running screaming from the room, she’d taken a stake to the bastard and finished him off.
Now, as he looked at her beneath the coating of his blood, he saw the paleness of her skin and the slight tremor she tried so hard to hide. He wanted to attribute them to the aftermath of battle, but he couldn’t dismiss them that easily, not with Weston’s words burrowing in his chest like poisoned darts.
If she was hurt or in further danger, he needed to know. She was his concubine. It was his right as her champion. But he recognized the stubborn expression on her face, the obstinate tilt to her chin. If he pushed, she would run and he was in no condition to protect her, let alone chase after her if she thought to leave him.
Pain spasmed in his chest, and he clenched his fists to prevent himself from snatching her up and refusing to release her.
Ever.
So he relented. His lion protested and slashed at him, but he ignored the beast, too. Soon, though, she would understand. “Will you be in any danger?”
“Danger? No.”
The evasive answer concerned him more, but what choice was left to them. “Do it.”
<
br /> Her gaze flicked up to his in surprise and gratitude. Merrick would take that, anything to indebt her to him.
She inched closer as if leery of him.
Maybe she should be.
The lion in him wanted to pounce and claim this proud warrior who would battle an ancient vampire on her own to protect the pack even when she had to know she had no hope of winning.
As she lifted her blade and touched it to her flesh, he halted her. He lifted her wrists to his lips, watching her all the while, waiting for any sign of fear.
He only saw trust.
Trust he didn’t deserve if she knew what an offer like that meant to shifters. But damned if he would tell her.
Not until the deed was done.
Her skin was warm against his lips. Unable to help himself, he licked her wrist. He saw her shudder and, despite his injuries, if he thought she wouldn’t have protested, he would’ve tried to take her there and then, audience or not.
He and Beast was in agreement in that regard. As soon as he got her alone, he would put thought to action. His fangs lengthened and sank into her delicate wrist.
The first taste of blood spilled into his mouth. He was prepared to fight Beast for control. Instead, his body hardened with lust so potent that had he not been on his ass already, the taste of her would have knocked him there.
She flinched as his fangs sank deep, but held steady. He was a bastard for marking her this way without her knowing what it meant, but he couldn’t give up the chance to claim her as his own.
Permanently, for all of the pride to see.
Chapter Twenty-one
Trina expected pain.
She expected to catalogue the results in a clear, analytical matter.
Merrick stared into Trina’s eyes while his fangs pierced her flesh and it was the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced. Each pump of her heart sent more blood rushing through him, and she felt the very core of him.
His desire to find that special someone, the deep yearning to be mated matched her own so closely that it knocked her for a loop. He was so imposing, so demanding that she would’ve never guessed part of him felt so alone.
BloodSworn Page 14