“Are you going to Maxwell’s after shift?”
I lifted my head to see two female nurses walking past the open door. “Yeah, of course. After the day I’ve had, I need a drink or five.” They laughed and kept walking.
Maxwell’s was a bar across the street and given the last three days, a drink was what I needed too. Once Dr. Young checked on my father, I was going to walk across the street and get a nightcap.
However, it wasn’t Dr. Young who came to check on my father.
“Ms. O’Bannion?” I looked up to see an older man dressed in a white coat walk in.
I stood. “Yes?”
“I’m Dr. Blumberg.”
“Hello.” I smiled warmly.
“Dr. Young’s off tonight, so I’m doing his rounds.”
“Oh, okay.”
Dr. Blumberg started to type on the computer adjacent to my dad’s bed. “I see there’s no change in your father’s condition.” I nodded, already knowing that was the case. “Like the last few nights, the nurses will continue to monitor him.”
“Thank you,” I replied. With every day that passed, I told myself that no change was good. That he was fighting and had a chance to recover. It was what I was holding onto, what gave me strength and stopped me from falling apart.
Dr. Blumberg left, and I went into the bathroom to freshen up before walking across the street, satisfied that my dad would be okay for a while. I needed to escape that sterile setting and gather my thoughts.
The noise of the packed bar was in stark contrast to the quiet hospital room I’d just left. I recognized a few of the nurses from the hospital as they sat at various tables, all of them laughing and having a good time. Laughing as though there weren’t people across the street within an inch of their lives. I didn’t fault them. If I were in their position, I would be doing the same thing. But I wasn’t. My father was in a coma, and there was nothing I could do to help him. I couldn’t even help find his attacker, and it made me feel worthless.
I shrugged out of my coat and waited until the bartender walked over. “What can I getcha?” he asked, placing a black cocktail napkin in front of me.
I looked behind him to the selections Maxwell’s had to offer and smiled as I saw the glass bottle with the black OBB label. “O’Bannion Burn on the rocks.”
The bartender turned to grab the bottle on the top shelf while I pulled out my wallet to grab my credit card.
“Hey, Mikey. Put Ms. O’Bannion’s whiskey on my tab.”
I stilled at the smooth, velvety voice I was starting to get accustomed to. When I turned my head, my gaze met the dark irises of Dr. Young. “No, I can’t let you do that.”
He reached out, and my gaze darted to where his hand touched my arm. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched me, but the first time I hadn’t been in the right state of mind to give my hormones the chance to go haywire.
“It’s the least I can do.” He licked his lips and then smirked.
“No really. It’s okay.” God, what I would do to feel that tongue on my skin …
“I insist. The heiress to the best single malt in the United States shouldn’t have to pay top dollar for it.”
“Heiress,” I whispered as I watched Mikey pour the amber liquid. I didn’t like that word. It was as though he knew my father wasn’t going to make it.
“No shit?” Mikey asked.
“Ms. O’Bannion’s father is the owner and creator of the O’Bannion Burn. Why don’t you pour me one too, Mikey?” Dr. Young asked as Mikey placed the whiskey on the napkin in front of me.
Mikey reached for another glass, and I took a small sip while he filled it with ice a few feet away and getting another customer’s order. “Thank you, Dr. Young.”
“Please. Call me Dra—ven.”
I balked, confused why he was using a different name.
He smiled. “I go by my middle name, Draven, except for doctor stuff.”
“Oh.” I smiled, understanding. “Well, thank you, Draven, but really, it wasn’t necessary.”
“It’s not a problem, Ms. O’Bannion.”
“Since you insist on a first name basis, please, call me Calla.”
Draven smiled, and instantly my insides warmed, and my heart kicked up a beat. “I’d like that.” He drank a sip of the whiskey Mikey had placed in front of him before asking, “How’s your father tonight?”
I sighed. “Same.”
He nodded. “Given the seventy-two hours—”
“Can we not talk about my father? I know you’re his doctor and all, but I could really use the break.” I took a sip of my drink.
Draven’s black gaze stared into my emerald eyes. “Hence why you came across the street tonight then?”
“That, and you weren’t on duty.” I blinked at my omission. Fuck, this whiskey was making my lips loose.
Draven chuckled. “I have tonight and tomorrow off.”
I turned my heated face back toward him. “What about my father’s care?” I knew Draven needed days off, but it worried me that he wouldn’t be there because he was my father’s surgeon.
“If anything happens, the hospital will call me. But he’s in good hands with all the other doctors on duty.”
“I hope so,” I muttered, looking down at my empty glass. I flagged over the bartender and ordered another O’Bannion Burn.
Draven turned in his seat to face me, which caused me to look at him again. As I stared into his eyes, they started to pulse, almost as though they were matching the beat of my heart. “Calla,” he breathed as I continued to be mesmerized by the rhythm of his irises. “Tell me about the man who attacked your father.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Athan and I watched Calla’s family leave the hospital as we formed the plan. I was to sneak into O’Bannion’s hospital room and compel Calla to tell me about the vamp who tried to drain her father once Blumberg made his rounds. There was no way I could do it while I was on duty because I had several other patients to attend to, plus any incoming traumas. Also, Calla was never alone.
But the plan was quickly changed when I smelled Calla outside. My gaze darted toward her scent, and I saw her walking across the street and straight into the bar. It was probably better this way, so I didn’t have to worry about being spotted even with my fast speed. No one in Alaska knew I was a vampire.
The moment I touched her arm as I sat next to her, heat lit my entire body. I hadn’t felt warmth like hers in ninety years. Her radiance was fueling my blood flow, and the longer I watched her pulse beat on her neck, the more I had to fight the urge to taste her. Taste all of her, and not only her blood. I wanted to run my tongue along every inch of her as she moaned my name. Wanted to fuck her against every surface of my house, causing the drywall to crumble to pieces from my strength.
Christ, the more time I spent next to her, the more I realized I needed to hurry and compel her for information before I compelled her to go home with me like some perv. I needed to be on my way.
The plan wasn’t to tell her my real fucking name, but I went with it knowing I could compel her to forget. Except, that wasn’t what happened when I tried to compel her.
“Calla. Tell me about the man who attacked your father.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I really don’t want to talk about it. I want to—”
“Calla,” I said her name so she would look into my pulsing eyes again. The moment her gaze lifted, I realized the compulsion didn’t take. How was that possible? She was human, and all humans could be compelled. I’d done it to hundreds of people before.
And no, not to go home with me. It was always after sex because the moment my dick entered their warm pussy, they knew right away I wasn’t human. I was dead, and my body temperature changed depending on the room’s temperature I was in, making them feel coldness as I slid into them—like I was
made of ice.
“Please, Draven. I know you’re his doctor, but I just can’t. I came here to take my mind off of it for a few minutes.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, still stunned. I needed to talk to Athan, who was hanging around the back of the room with a drink. He could read my thoughts because he was within range, so he immediately appeared at my side confirming he was listening.
“Are you going to introduce me to this gorgeous lady?” he asked, eyeing Calla.
She instantly blushed at his compliment, and then chugged the fresh whiskey the bartender had poured. I didn’t blame her. Before my turning, I was known to drink half a bottle of whiskey while playing cards. In fact, I would still drink that much after stressful nights at the hospital.
I slid my glass over to her, encouraging her to loosen up. “Calla, this is my friend, Athan. Athan, Calla.”
They shook hands, and then Athan kissed the back of hers. My cold, non-circulating blood started to boil as I watched his lips touch her skin. I could feel the tips of my fangs against my tongue reminding me that I needed to calm the fuck down. Athan stepped closer to her, his hand still in hers and stared down into her emerald eyes. “Calla, we need to know everything about the man who attacked your father.”
“Why?” she asked looking up at him.
He tilted his head slightly as though he realized compulsion wasn’t working on her. “So we can find him.”
“How can you find someone if I don’t even know what he looks like?”
“Tell us everything you do know,” he encouraged.
Calla was silent for a beat, and laughter pierced my ears. Laughter from my co-workers who were in their own world, not realizing that two vampires were in the bar trying to compel a human.
“I already told Draven everything I know.”
“You told her your real name?” he asked me telepathically.
“It slipped, and I thought I could compel her,” I replied telepathically.
“Not everything,” Athan said out loud to Calla.
Her gaze darted to me. “Why do you two want to know so badly? I already told everyone everything I know, and the troopers know nothing every time we call them.”
Athan stepped back, and we locked eyes. “She can’t be compelled.”
“I can fucking see that,” I remarked back. Then to answer Calla, I said, “We’re just curious. I live in Burn Falls too, and we want to know more about the attack, so we know who to look out for.”
“Well, if I knew anything else, you’d know it too. Don’t you think I want to find the person who is responsible for my father being in that hospital bed?” She waved her hand in the direction of the hospital.
“I know you do,” I said to Calla and then using my thoughts said to Athan, “I’ve got Calla. Go see if you can find anything in Burn Falls and I’ll meet you back at my place before sunrise.”
“Maybe the alcohol will loosen her tongue and give us answers?”
I turned to him and nodded, then said out loud, “Didn’t you have somewhere to be?”
Athan patted my shoulder a couple of times. “I do.” He held out a hand to Calla. “It was nice to meet you, Calla. I hope your father’s situation improves.”
She took his hand and shook it, but there was no feeling behind it. The smile she gave him didn’t meet her eyes. I knew that look, the numbness. The alcohol was starting to hit home.
“Another?” I asked, pointing to the third empty whiskey glass.
She looked down at it. “I better not. If something were to happen—”
“I’m right here with you. If anything happens, they’ll page me and then we’ll go right over.”
“I don’t want to be drunk if anything—”
“You don’t need to be drunk,” I interrupted. “You can just numb the pain.” I knew that she was going to be drunk. She was almost there. But I also knew that Miles was never waking up again, and there was no point in her hurrying back. The machines were only giving her false hope.
“Okay. One more,” she agreed.
I flagged down the bartender and ordered two more. “Your father’s whiskey is remarkable,” I told her as I took another taste. The alcohol burned through my bloodstream, and I edged closer to her. She had this pull on me. A pull I’d been fighting since the night I met her in the waiting room at the hospital.
“It really is,” she agreed, taking a sip. “It’s the caraway seed mixed with cinnamon.”
“Caraway seed? Never heard of it.”
“It’s in the carrot family, but looks like fennel or cumin seeds. It actually has a liquorice flavor.”
“Really?” I smiled, still having no clue. Plus, I couldn’t remember the last time I had a carrot or liquorice.
“Family recipe.”
My gaze trailed down her soft curves, noting the swell of her breasts. What was it about Calla that made it hard to resist her? I hadn’t had those feelings since Mary, and then it was only because I was a horny twenty-four-year-old. Over the years, I’d had my needs met, but there had been nothing to spark my un-beating heart.
But now …
Now I wanted to know everything there was about Calla O’Bannion.
She tilted her head toward me. “Do you come here a lot? I figure you see a lot of bad things in your line of work.”
“I come here from time to time. Not often.”
“How do you manage it then? The bad news. Having to tell families that their relatives have died, or are seriously injured. Do you get immune to it?”
My brows creased at her quick turn of questioning.
“Forget I asked that.”
“No. You want to know. I’ll answer.” I took another sip. “When patients arrive, I’m given their injury and then my focus is on their body. They aren’t a person to me at that point, more of a machine that needs to be fixed. Then once I step back from the table, I become all too aware of how human they are, especially when I meet their families. I feel a loss if we lose a patient, a sadness if someone has to live the rest of their life with a disability. That’s why you’ll find us in here occasionally, some of us more often than others.” I gestured to the people who sat around chatting and laughing. “We have to let loose somehow, or the job will break us. I live an hour away, so I typically go home before I have a stiff drink.” I needed to get home before the sun rose.
She smiled tightly. “I understand needing the alcohol to forget. And thank you for reassuring me that my father’s in good hands.”
I reached out and touched her arm again. “There’s not much more we can do at this point. It’s your father’s body that needs to make the decision for him,” I lied. I hated lying to her, but that was all I could do at this point.
“What do you mean?”
“Remember I told you and your family that the first seventy-two hours are the most crucial?”
She nodded. “Right. It’s been longer than seventy-two hours now.”
“Just barely, but yes, we would have hoped to see some signs of improvement now so we could start to lessen the anesthesia.” We sipped our whiskey in silence, and I wished I could compel all of her hurt away, make her immune to the sadness that I knew was coming her way. “Let me give you my number in case you need me tomorrow before I arrive back at the hospital.” I took out a business card from my wallet, wrote my cell on the back with the pen sitting on the bar, and slid the card over to her. “Call me anytime.”
“Thank you. Is it wrong that I’m enjoying sitting here talking to you while my father lies fighting for his life across the street?”
“No, Calla. It’s not wrong to live your life.”
She slid her glass away from her as though it was about to bite her. “I shouldn’t be drinking. What if he needs me?”
I understood her fear and the fact she kept worrying about abandoning her fa
ther, but she wasn’t. There was nothing for her to do. “Trust me. There are plenty of doctors and nurses on duty if anything were to happen to him or there’s a change.”
We were silent again as we consumed our whiskeys.
“Are you married?” Calla blurted.
I looked over at her and smirked. “No, I’m not. Are you?”
She sighed, and it was then that I realized the alcohol was finally working. “My mother said that no man will want me if I’m overweight, and look at me,” she gestured to herself, “I’m a heifer.”
I turned my body back toward her and placed my hand on her knee. “I am looking at you. I haven’t been able to stop since we met four days ago.”
“Draven,” Calla muttered. “You don’t need to tell me what you think I want to hear.”
“I’m not. I’m telling you the truth.”
She stared into my dark eyes. “Are you flirting with me?”
I grinned. “I am.” I’d never been in this position before. It was unethical, but now I didn’t care.
“Why would you want to flirt with me when you can have any woman in this bar?” She looked around as though she was going to find me my next conquest.
“Something tells me that you’ll taste like heaven.” I was talking about her blood, but by the way Calla’s eyes became huge, I realized that she thought I was talking about her pussy. I was almost certain that would taste even better.
She blushed, and her heart started to beat faster. If she gave me the okay, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. Instead, she slid off the barstool. “I’ll just—” Calla stumbled as if all the alcohol had gone to her feet, and I reached out to steady her.
“I think I should get you home.”
“I need to get back to the hospital,” she slurred.
I stood and looked down at her. “What did I say about trusting me?”
She swayed as I held her up. “There would be no change tonight.”
Burn Falls Page 4