Dalton, Tymber - Love and Brimstone [Brimstone Vampires 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Tymber Dalton

“Matthias!”

  She realized what it was about them. They had the same smell as Babson, the same smell as someone at the meeting that morning, but it was hard to tell at first because with the geysers and hot springs, they blended right in. She didn’t know if she could outrun them and decided she might have to stand and fight. Would they be susceptible to her powers?

  * * * *

  “Matthias!”

  He pushed himself harder. “Taz, I’m here! Run!”

  He raced through the museum, pushing past people and down the trail on the other side. Now he knew where she was heading and could meet her.

  “Taz, run!”

  Albert and Robertson followed close on his heels, both feeling through Matthias what was happening, not wasting breath on words. They followed him down the path toward Steamboat Geyser.

  * * * *

  Taz heard Matthias close by and pushed herself.

  Then she stumbled.

  Every horror movie she ever saw flashed through her mind. She knew she couldn’t outrun them, so she took a deep breath and turned. Reaching out with her mind, she saw into their thoughts, knew what happened.

  The shorter demon panicked, knowing they couldn’t take her in a fair fight. He raised the gun and fired. She heard the noise, and by the time it registered he’d shot her, the bullet plunged into her chest.

  It knocked the breath out of her. Everything moved in slow motion, and she screamed Matthias’ name again.

  The demons closed the distance, oblivious to the dozen or so tourists who’d turned at the sound of the shot. The taller one nervously approached her splayed body, watched her gasp for air.

  “Shit, man. What do we do now? She’s not dead.”

  The short one raised the gun. “What the hell do you think?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Her scream hit Matthias so hard it knocked him down. Then he heard the shot.

  “Go!” he yelled, “Run!”

  Albert and Robertson raced past him, and he scrambled to his feet. “Hold on, Taz,” he moaned, in agony with her, “I’m coming!”

  Albert rounded the corner first and screamed. The demon looked up as he fired again and missed, the shot kicking up a cloud of dust to her right. The guards, now catching up from behind, tackled the two daemon pulverem and disarmed them. Matthias stumbled down the path and tossed the sword to Robertson, who quickly dispatched the demons.

  Matthias fell to his knees beside Taz and pulled her into his lap.

  She couldn’t talk, every breath a struggle. The chest wound bubbled, sucking, and her eyes rolled in her head. He was losing her, felt her slipping from his mind.

  “Hang on, Taz. Please, hang on.” Matthias tore at his wrist with his teeth, forcing the ragged and bloody wound against her lips. It couldn’t be too late. Please, God, it can’t be too late!

  Robertson and Albert dropped to their knees beside them, helpless.

  Her eyes closed. She wasn’t latching on.

  “Come on, Taz, please,” Matthias begged. “You have to drink, you can’t leave me.”

  She didn’t move.

  * * * *

  From somewhere in the dark room in her mind, Taz thought she heard Matthias’ cries, pleading with her, begging. She was so tired, hurt so bad. She could just close her eyes and rest, and then it would feel better.

  She looked around and saw a new door in her mental room, one she hadn’t pictured before. From around its edges seeped a beautiful soft, bluish glow. She reached for it. Through it, she instinctively knew, was a calm, soothing peace.

  “Taz, please! Drink!” Matthias cried in her mind.

  She wasn’t thirsty. She was tired, and she hurt.

  If she went through the door, she could rest. It wouldn’t hurt anymore. Her hand touched the doorknob and found it cool, comforting.

  Then she tasted something warm and sweet. Blood.

  Matthias’ blood.

  She thought she heard a voice and looked around. In the distant corner of the room, a shadowy figure emerged. It didn’t scare her. It actually filled her with peace, like a lost, familiar friend.

  “Taz baby, sweetheart, don’t leave him. Please. Don’t open that door. You need to drink. You have to drink. For both of us…”

  * * * *

  The bodyguards tried to keep people back. Matthias sobbed, begging, pleading, pressing his wrist against Taz’s mouth, rocking her. “Taz, Anastazia, don’t leave me, you can’t leave me.”

  She took a long, ragged breath and lay still in his arms.

  “Matthias,” Albert said quietly, “it’s over. She’s gone.”

  “No!” He tore at his wrist again, drawing more blood, and pressed it against her lips. “No! I won’t let her go!”

  Robertson fought his own despair, knew Matthias was on the verge of losing his mind. He started to reach out to Matthias when he saw Taz’s lip twitch.

  Matthias looked, dropping his forehead to hers. “Drink, you have to drink, you have to. Please, don’t leave me, don’t leave me, you can’t leave me. I love you.”

  They watched her lips move, and Matthias squeezed his arm with his other hand, trying to force more blood into her mouth. “That’s it, you can do it, Taz, you can do it.”

  * * * *

  It was blood! She looked around, knowing she had to find the source. She backed away from the door, and it disappeared.

  She heard Matthias’ voice in her mind, stronger, pleading. “Drink, you have to drink, you have to.”

  She turned to look for the figure and—

  Her eyes flew open as she gasped for air. It hurt like hell, her lungs on fire, every breath an excruciating effort. Suddenly, her mouth was full of Matthias’ blood, and she was so thirsty, thirstier than she’d ever been in her life.

  Albert and Robertson grabbed each other. They watched Taz working at Matthias’ wrist, and he rocked her, encouraging, begging. She managed to bring a hand to his and press his wrist against her mouth, her fingers clutching at him.

  “That’s it,” Matthias sobbed. “You can do it.”

  Her eyes closed again, and she sank her teeth into his flesh, moaning in pain. He closed his eyes and didn’t care if she stopped in time or not. She was taking him, she would be okay, she would heal.

  He tried to hold on to consciousness, but he heard Albert and Robertson’s voices spinning down behind him as the world went grey then black. Before he lost consciousness he heard her voice in his mind.

  “Matthias.”

  * * * *

  Matthias’ limp body was sprawled on the trail. Taz tried to sit up, disoriented, shaky. Robertson pulled her into his lap while Albert tended Matthias.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Robertson ignored decorum and ripped open her shirt, found the slug, misshapen and mushroomed, caught in the fabric of her sports bra, next to her skin. There was a hole in her shirt, a hole in her bra, and everything soaked with her blood. But the pink welt in her skin was already fading to white before his eyes.

  She looked at him. “What happened?” she asked again. Then she saw Matthias.

  He was pale and still, his wrist torn and bloody. She threw herself at him, pushing Albert out of the way. “What happened?” she screamed.

  “You were dying.”

  “Matthias!” She grabbed the front of his shirt, shaking him. “Why won’t he wake up?”

  “He fed you,” Robertson said.

  She pulled Matthias to her, listening. His breath was shallow and weak. “Did I take too much?” she sobbed.

  Albert nodded. “He was too distraught, too panicked. There wasn’t time for him to prepare.”

  “Do something,” she screamed at them, and Robertson shook his head.

  “We can’t.”

  She looked around. A uniformed Park Service volunteer watched them, his jaw slack with disbelief. He had a Leatherman tool holstered on his hip, and she threw herself at him, ripping it from his belt before he could react.

  With t
rembling fingers she tried to open it and fumbled. Robertson took it from her, and while Albert steadied her wrist, Robertson made the cut for her. She pressed it to Matthias’ mouth.

  “Please, please, please—”

  “Please, please, please,” she begged with her mind. “Drink!”

  His lips moved, tasting, and she sobbed with relief. She collapsed against him, feeling him take back what he needed.

  Then her world went black.

  Again.

  * * * *

  She woke up alone in the back of a speeding Land Rover. Behind the wheel, Robertson glanced at her in the rearview mirror when he realized she was awake.

  “Where is he?” She noticed Moe in the front seat next to him.

  “He’s okay, Taz. They’re behind us. We had to get you out of there before Park Service Police showed up. He made me take you out first, wanted you safe in case any other daemon pulverem showed up.”

  Taz sat up and spied the other Land Rover following a short distance behind and gaining ground. She rested her head against the back of the seat and sobbed.

  “I know what they are,” she said. “I saw what they did.”

  “What?”

  “I saw it, before they shot me.”

  When they reached the cabin, she ran to the other Land Rover and pulled at the door, crying when she saw Matthias. He stumbled into her arms, and they leaned against the car, trembling and relieved.

  “I saw him, I know what happened, I saw him—”

  He held her at arm’s length and looked her in the eye. “Calm down,” he said firmly, trying to steady her despite his own shaky legs. “Tell me.”

  She couldn’t talk. She sent the thought to him, and his eyes narrowed as he pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair. “Okay. We’ll take care of it.”

  The guards checked their room before Taz and Matthias went in and collapsed on the bed. He pulled her ruined shirt off and ran his fingers over her chest, touching the fresh scar, ripping her bra off and kissing her, ensuring she was okay—

  “My beautiful, beautiful love.”

  Exhausted, they fell asleep clutching each other.

  Matthias panicked when he awoke and she wasn’t beside him. He found her in the shower, sobbing, trying to scrub the dried blood off. He pushed into the shower with her, clothes and all.

  He kissed her, apologizing, grateful she was alive.

  Finally he looked at her, his hands on her face. “Please don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispered.

  “I promise.” She threw her arms around him, and suddenly he was out of his clothes, had her pressed against the shower wall, and was inside her. His hands pulled her hips against him, her lips on his, both of them moaning.

  “Matthias, I love you, I love you, I love you,” she chanted in his mind. When he came, she supported him until he got his breath back and could stand again.

  He shut the water off, scooped her up, and took her to bed. He trailed kisses down her stomach to taste her, assure himself she was alive and well. In a few minutes she was cresting her own climax, her fingers wrapped in his hair, trembling from the power of the sensation.

  He folded his arms around her and pulled the blanket over them, wanting to hold her, feel her, protect her.

  She pressed herself against him, still shaking. “You saved me,” she whispered.

  He kissed the top of her head, pausing to smell her hair, savoring her scent. “I cannot lose you. I will not lose you. Not like that.”

  “I understand,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “I meant to ask you back in Florida, after I…you…” She shuddered. “When I was recovering, you told me Rafe”—it was hard for her to say his name—“might not have been able to save you, but I could because of my heart, and because you couldn’t refuse me.”

  He kissed her again. “Yes.”

  “I understand. I heard you. I had to come back.”

  He tipped her face so he could look into her eyes. “You have my love, Anastazia. I give it willingly, even back then.”

  “I felt you calling me back, trying to keep me here.”

  He nodded. “As I heard you.”

  “It would have been so easy to walk through that door,” she admitted. “To just go to sleep and not wake up.”

  And there had been something else, a figure…wasn’t there? Or was that just part of the stress and pain?

  “We make the hard choice to survive,” Matthias said. “Death is easy. Living is difficult.”

  She kissed him. They made love again, slowly, tenderly. As he slipped inside her, he kissed her, whispering her name over and over.

  She stroked his back, meeting his slow thrusts with a gentle roll of her hips. He buried his face against her neck, and she whispered to him, “Matthias, my love.”

  He moaned, climaxed, and lay still.

  Taz wrapped her legs around his, her arms around him, holding him, not wanting to let go.

  Exhausted, they slept.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  They ventured out later that night, past midnight. The park was quiet, shrouded in darkness. No lights on in any cabins, and the moon played peekaboo behind the clouds.

  They’d waited until late to do this, the guards keeping an eye on Rafe’s movements while Matthias and Taz rested up.

  They didn’t want any witnesses.

  Albert and Robertson met them at the corner of the cabin, and the sword briefly flashed in the moonlight. Taz held out her hand for it. Albert looked to Matthias. He nodded, and Albert passed it to her.

  She hefted the sword. It felt unwieldy in her hands, but she could manage it for what she had to do.

  This is my mess, and I have to take care of it.

  She still didn’t know how she’d tell Matthias what happened between her and Rafe, but she knew it was her fault. In the pit of her stomach, she knew the repercussions were worse than she ever imagined.

  They followed her across the compound to Rafe’s cabin on the edge of the woods. She knocked.

  Rafe didn’t turn on the light, but they all heard him get up. Finally, he came to the door.

  He stared at them for a moment. “I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

  Matthias watched as Taz closed her eyes. They all felt her reach out, not gently, walking through Rafe’s mental barriers as if they weren’t there. She opened her eyes and fixed Rafe—the daemon pulverem using Rafe’s form—with her gaze. She touched him with her mind and knew the truth.

  It wasn’t him.

  When she spoke, her voice sounded hard and cold.

  “You’re not Rafael.”

  “What?”

  Matthias reached out. She held the creature’s mind captive, forcing it open and giving Matthias access. Was there any end to her powers? With her gaze on it, the daemon pulverem couldn’t move. She was right—it wasn’t Rafael. Matthias searched and found what he needed.

  “I have it, Taz,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “You can do it. We’re done here.”

  She nodded and hefted the sword. “This is for Rafael,” she sobbed, and ran it through him.

  The daemon pulverem exploded, the dust settling on the doorstep.

  * * * *

  They found Rafe’s body hidden in the woods several yards behind his cabin. The marks she’d seen that morning in the gravel were made by his heels when the creatures dragged his body out.

  Matthias tried to get Taz to return to their cabin, but she insisted on watching the Stooges retrieve him. They carefully shrouded him in a blanket and gently loaded him into one of the Land Rovers. Before they left, she pulled the blanket from his face.

  Rafe looked peaceful, at rest. And she felt empty, like a piece of her was now dead, too. Despite the reasons behind what she’d done, she hoped she’d given him some pleasure before he died.

  Taz didn’t know how they killed him. She didn’t want to know. Whatever they’d done, it was soon after she’d left him. She knew tha
t from what she saw in the daemon pulverem’s mind. She remembered giving Rafe release and withdrawing, wondering now if she left some vital defense unguarded by handling him so roughly.

  And she wondered if the bad dreams she had later foretold his death.

  Taz closed her eyes and silently wept, apologizing though she knew he was beyond the realm of even her considerable reach.

  I’m so sorry, Rafe. I didn’t know this would happen. I’m so, so sorry.

  Matthias’ words in the cafe in Gardiner haunted her.

  “What you and I can do can literally kill people or get people killed.”

  Even though she knew she didn’t kill Rafe, she still felt responsible. He was here to help her and Matthias. He’d been distracted, his guard down, because of games she played because she was pissed at Matthias.

  Because she’d been an immature brat. And it hurt. She’d never hurt so bad. The guilt, the pain—this was her fault.

  “It’s okay, Taz…”

  Now if she could just get that phantom voice out of her head.

  She found Rafael’s right hand. He still wore his ring. The daemon pulverem wasn’t able to reproduce it exactly when he imitated Rafe. And the creature didn’t know about Rafe’s nervous tic.

  It slid off without resistance.

  She slipped it on her right hand, and it fit, cool, but soon warming to her flesh. He had a thinner build than Matthias, his fingers about the same size as her own. The yellow stone winked at her in the moonlight, and she looked at Rafe.

  I love you, Rafe. I don’t know why, but I do. I’ll never forget you. I wish I could have given you that chance. I’ll look for you first in our next life. I promise you have dibs. I don’t know how, but I will.

  Anastazia touched his hand, his flesh cold, and tucked it under the blanket. She kissed her fingers and touched them to his lips, remembering their kiss on the boardwalk, their dinner, and how much they shared in such a short amount of time.

  Taz felt Matthias’ hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault.” His voice sounded hoarse, full of barely restrained grief. Matthias put an arm around her, and with his free hand replaced the blanket over Rafe’s face. “You didn’t kill him.”

  “I feel like I did,” she whispered, her voice breaking.