by Joey W. Hill
“Just paid to do a job, mate,” the man whined beneath him. “Don’t know nothing. Just told me to blow the car, take out any who tried to help the driver. Odd blighter, too intense, but paid well.”
“Glad you earned a payday worth your life,” Stanley said shortly. He grabbed the man’s hair, pulled off the blindfold, and wrenched his head around so he came eye to eye with Stanley. The vampire unsheathed his fangs to full, gleaming length. “If you’re lucky, I won’t eat you before I kill you.”
The man’s eyes widened, his mouth opening on a scream, but Stanley thumped his head soundly on the ground first, knocking him out.
“Hopefully we’ll not need him. Don’t like to think of Ali having to use that arse’s blood.”
Nero drew her attention. “How’s he doing, Miss Nina? Stable enough to get him in the car, out of the open like this?”
“Yes,” she said shortly. “Will Donovan come check when his man doesn’t let him know it’s done? Bring vampires to help finish the job, like when they came after Alistair in town?”
“Don’t know,” Stanley said unhappily. “I don’t have Alistair’s age or strength to ferret it out. Donovan would feel me there in a heartbeat and gut my head.”
“We need to get Alistair back to the house, then.” She met Nero’s gaze, and received a confirming nod. “Let’s move him.”
As they helped her lift Alistair, she held his head carefully, easing him onto the car blanket they’d stretched out in the second seat. She climbed in with Alistair while Nero took the wheel and Stanley stayed in back with her, helping to keep Alistair as stabilized as possible. Though Nero put his foot down, wheeling the car around quickly to go back the way they came, she and Stanley kept her patient steady. Her mind was already reviewing the possibilities.
“Are there any other vampires nearby that can come to his aid, Stanley?” she asked. “Help protect him?”
“None as close as Donovan, and he’s an overlord. Region Master’s property is not part of no territory, but he sits smack on the edge of Donovan’s. Might as well be in it, and ain’t none of them going to go up against Donovan in his own territory.”
“You did,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I want a list, Stanley, of those who are most likely to help. There are those who will stand for Alistair, if for no other reason they know what happens if Donovan kills Alistair and he’s in charge.”
Stan clicked off names, and she logged every one of them, the same way she kept drugs straight in her mind.
When they reached the house, Mr. Coleman met them at the driveway. They took Alistair to the lower level, got him situated. There was a phone in his bedroom suite. She hooked up Nero to do the next blood donation and started calling the numbers of the vampires that Stanley had said might be sympathetic.
She had plowed through half, hooked up Stanley to Alistair next and was waiting for another servant to get his Mistress on the line with her, when she tuned in to a conversation going on between the butler and Stanley. It was Nero’s chuckle that caught her attention, a rare sound.
“Never heard no woman respond like that to being shot. Did she really shout ‘bloody fucking hell’?”
“Like someone had rudely interrupted her tea one too many times,” Nero responded fondly.
“She might not be the kind of InhServ those Europeans go on about,” Stanley observed, gazing down at the unconscious Alistair. “But I think she fits our style fine. And I won’t hesitate to tell any vamp just that.”
“Indeed.”
Nina straightened in her chair and grasped the phone. Donovan had planted doubts that she was a proper InhServ.
He was about to find out just how wrong he was.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was the longest hour of her life. After she did what she could, she had to give up worrying who was about to show up on their doorstep—friends or foes were equal concerns— and focus on the one thing that mattered.
They’d all donated blood, including Mr. Coleman, and drained the reserves. She’d given more of hers, until Nero firmly told her enough was enough, because he’d claimed she was turning the color of the bedsheets.
But Alistair was healing. She was sure of it. She was watching the mangled arm recreate itself, the harrowing notch taken out of his throat close and fill in. At a later time, when she wasn’t dealing with so many other emotions, the healer in her would be marveling and wondering at it. A species blessed with inexplicable miracles the human body lacked. All that was needed was human blood. A servant’s blood and a vampire’s—Stanley—were particularly rich sources for the healing power.
When she was too antsy to sit at Alistair’s side, she prowled his room. Looked in his dresser and walk-in wardrobe not to pry, but for what she was sure was there. Weapons. Wooden knives with thick shafts and lethal points. Stakes with handles, essentially. Firearms. A crossbow she gave to Nero when he said he knew how to use it. She also gave him the rest to hand out wherever appropriate. He left only a small handful of the wooden stakes behind. She didn’t object, since she knew how to use a gun, but not as capably as one of them would.
When she went back into the depths of Alistair’s dressing room to make sure she hadn’t overlooked anything, she remembered the day she’d looked through here, found that trunk. She sat down on it now, and turned her face against the dress shirts hanging neatly above it. She inhaled Alistair’s scent and something trembled hard and low in her belly. She’d almost lost him. Could still lose him.
No. Not on her watch.
“Bloody hell. Nina.” It was Stanley, voice urgent.
She surged off the chest and was back into the bedroom in a heartbeat. Alistair was struggling between Stanley and Nero, snarling, fangs fully exposed, his eyes crimson. Fortunately, he wasn’t quite strong enough to do them harm or throw them off, but it was a near thing, as the panic in Stanley’s voice had indicated.
Heedless of any risk to herself, ignoring Nero’s barked protest, she ducked under Stanley’s grip and touched Alistair’s face, his chest, filling his vision with her leaning over him.
“Alistair. I’m here. It’s all right. We’re all right.”
Men who’d been wounded badly in battle sometimes came out fighting, particularly if they’d gone down the same way and it was the last thing they remembered. Seeing a woman usually derailed that train, told them something different was happening. She made her voice brisk, no-nonsense, firm, though she couldn’t help the little tremor when his blue eyes focused on her at last, saw her, and the fangs started to retract.
“What? What happened—” His voice was raw, like he had a cracked eggshell planted in his throat.
“It was a trap. Donovan blew up your car with you in it. A man he hired. You’re home. We got you back here.”
Now he was still struggling, but it was to sit up, not to fight them. The one arm still wasn’t working properly yet, no muscle strength, but it was no longer in shreds. She helped him. Nero and Stanley moved closer to join him again, but Alistair reflexively hissed, showed his teeth, the bloodred color still glinting in his gaze. She held up a hand, warding them off. Too soon.
He stared at her. Then slowly, his gaze went to Stanley. His mind was working, for certain. She shifted, blocking his view again. “No. He wasn’t part of it. Remember, you said it yourself. Donovan was anticipating what you might do. He planted the hospital idea.”
“Which he could do because the bloody idiot let him mark him.”
Nina could almost feel Stanley’s cringe behind her, but she kept her attention on Alistair. It was irritation in his voice, though, not homicidal venom, so she knew the male was safe.
“Born vampires are too damn good at the mind fucks,” Alistair muttered. He flexed his hand, stared at it. “Why’s it not working right?”
She gave him the quick rundown on all of it. His gaze lifted to her as she spoke. When she finished, she realized her voice was shaking. She squeezed his wrist. “Sorry. Been a crazy time.”
He reached up
with his other hand, cupped her chin, used his thumb to brush away the tear she hadn’t noticed on her cheek. “Been a bit of a bother to you today, haven’t I?”
“More than usual. And the Phaeton is demolished.”
“I’ve no chance of competing with Rick now at all, have I?”
“None,” she said staunchly, as another tear pooled on his knuckle.
He attempted a smile, though his gaze was still flickering with those hellfire sparks. He shifted his gaze back to Stanley and Nero, but to different purpose this time. “What’s our status? Buggered beyond all hope?”
“Not necessarily, thanks to Brigadier General InhServ here.” Stanley cleared his throat, nodded to Nina. “We’ve got about nine vampires guarding the perimeter, watching for him and his lot to show. He’ll come, I’m pretty sure. He’ll not have heard from his man, the one who blew you up.”
“Where’s he at?”
“He gave us blood and information, and that was all the use he had for us,” Stanley said matter-of-factly. “Think your landscaping bloke took the body off to grind it up for fertilizer. Expect it’ll do wonders for your spring plantings.”
“Time?”
“It’s about three hours until dawn, my lord.” This from Nero.
“Yeah. He’ll come,” Alistair agreed. He’d gripped Nina’s hand, was thoughtfully rubbing his thumb over it. “He’ll want to install himself in my home, as acting Region Master, before dawn comes.” His gaze moved to the table, where the handful of stakes were left. “Raided my closet, I see. Ready for an invasion, are you?”
“Just wanted to have some things at hand,” Stanley said. “Gave most of them to the blokes handling guard duty. Assumed you wouldn’t mind. Told her to leave the pearl-handled pistols in their box in your wardrobe, though. Know those are your babies and you wouldn’t want anyone else handling them without your say-so. Never thought you’d feel that way about anyone living.”
His gaze shifted back to Nina. Nina realized then that Alistair’s eyes had left her only for those brief movements between the two men, to check on the status of things. Each time, his attention came back to her. He didn’t seem like he planned to let go of her hand anytime soon. The pressure of it was almost too strong, but she took the pain as reassurance that he was alive and regaining his strength. But it was also an indication of other things, the way he was staring at her face.
“Why did you call her Brigadier General?” her Master asked.
“Because she marshaled the troops. Called up half the local vampires I thought were pretty loyal to you, got their arses here in record time. Think she talked to most of them direct. Told their servants she didn’t have time to dick around with the help.”
Alistair lifted a brow as Nina flushed. “Did you now?”
“I think I put it far more diplomatically than that,” she said.
“Actually, I was cleaning it up some,” Stanley said. Nero hid a smile as Nina shot him a severe look.
“I’ll have a moment with her, then. Let me know if anything changes up top.”
He and Stanley met gazes once more, and this time Nina sensed more to it. A muscle flexed in Stanley’s jaw. “You know any of us here will go to bat for you, Alistair. I’ll make good on what I buggered up. Best I can.”
“It reassures me to hear that.”
Another prolonged moment, and then Stanley sighed and left the room. Nero followed, giving Nina a look that she had a feeling was trying to tell her more as well, so once they’d both departed, she brought her attention back to Alistair. “I do hate it when men do that,” she said. “The whole silent male code thing.”
“Women have a similar one, though it almost always translates to ‘This bloody man doesn’t have a clue, girls. We’ll just get it done the way it needs to be and leave him out of it.’”
She wanted to smile at him, but the uneasiness in her stomach, quickly supplanting her relief that he was on the mend, wouldn’t let her. “Whereas the male code is ‘I have to do it this way, no matter how stupid it is.’ You’re going to fight him when he gets here.”
“I must,” he said simply.
“No, you mustn’t,” she snapped. “You have a near dozen vampires here, plus Coleman and Nero. Unless he brings his own army, he’ll back down.”
“Those vampires are to back down his army. But he and I must face each other. They will all expect it.” His expression hardened. “I’m Region Master, Nina. He’s attempted to kill me, has attacked my servant, my home, my property. I tried to work with him, far more than he deserves. He’s done.”
“Seems redundant to single me out, since I’m your property too, aren’t I?” she said tartly. She didn’t mean to be shrewish, not now, but all this had been hell on her nerves. First the attack on her, then the attack on Alistair, and now he was about to plunge into it again. She resisted him when he curved the hand up around her skull, her nape, and drew her in to him, but he wouldn’t be resisted.
That arm was fully functional, more than capable of bodily overcoming her resistance. Once she was close to his upper chest, she couldn’t resist her own needs, either. She pressed her face there, her hand resting on his bandaged abdomen. Beneath, she knew the tissue and muscle had mostly reknitted, because she could feel the smooth ridges she was used to feeling there.
“You do belong to me,” he said quietly. “But not just because you are my property. You are also my heart. He attacked my heart, caused her harm. By attempting to kill me, he would have killed you. And that earns him a death sentence. I’m not cruel when I don’t have to be, Nina. I didn’t kill Stanley for his infraction. Thanks to you, admittedly. But this is one that can’t be excused or worked out any other way. Not if I’m going to hold this Region, keep it safer for those like Stanley. For all of us.”
She spread her hands out along the sides of his rib cage, her mouth against his pectoral, the smooth heat of it. His heart. He’d called her that. He was warmer now, so much warmer. He’d been cold before, terrifying her. “Does it never end, then?”
He paused, and she sensed something moving below the surface. Regret, pain, a shadow she hadn’t meant to disturb. “Maybe it will, eventually,” he said. “But not today.”
“Fine then.” She sat up, thrust her wrist at him. “Then you drink once more. Take as much strength as you need from me. If you insist on doing something this utterly stupid, I’m going to make sure you are as prepared as possible.”
He closed his grip around her wrist, but only to hold her still as he framed her chin in his other large hand and leaned forward, holding her still as he tilted her head away from him, breathed a tendril of air along her throat.
“You’re worried for me. But there’s no need. When this is over, we’re going to discuss your disrespect for your Master.”
She closed her eyes as his fangs stroked her. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. But for the first time she saw that third mark mortality link as a boon. If he fell, she wouldn’t have to grieve him. She’d die with him. It was the most reassuring thing she’d ever heard.
“I expect you’ll chastise me for my male foolishness on the other side of that veil,” he said.
“Count on it,” she said unsteadily.
“Sshh. Quiet now.” He pressed his lips to her throat, held there. Her fingers tightened on his sides, and she realized she was crying quietly, her throat hitching on little sobs. He realized it too, curving his arms around her now to bring her in close, hold her tightly.
“You do love me,” he said quietly.
“I don’t want to.” That was sort of a lie, but he had her at a disadvantage. Still, she saw shadows in his eyes as he lifted his head, looked at her.
“I know.” I don’t need any more of your blood, Nina. Keeping you alive is the only incentive I need to vanquish my enemy. You’re too pale. When this is done, you’ll have some of my blood, so you can get those soft roses in your cheeks I enjoy so much.
As her tears fell again, because she seemed
to have a limitless amount when it came to him, he held her even tighter to him once more.
Sshh…I’m all right. Thanks to you, I’m all right.
She helped him dress, which did nothing to alleviate her worries, when she had to help him guide the right arm into the sleeve of his pressed shirt. Though he was expecting a fight, he chose clothing as if he were going to a dinner party. Dress shirt, slacks, vest, coat. He didn’t wear a tie, though, and his shoes were not slick-soled Oxfords, but shoes with a heavier rubber tread that still looked gentlemanly stylish. He combed his hair, flexed the arm and kept flexing it, working it so the muscles would kick in, use the blood he’d been given to embrace full strength and flexibility. It was improving, but far too slowly, and she knew his torso was still sensitive, the abdomen and chest showing pink scarring. When she touched them, the epidermis was not yet smooth and firm. It felt more like paper, and as easy to tear, exposing the innards beneath.
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’m fine.”
“Course you are,” she said stoutly. “Fit as a bull. Twice as hard headed.”
He caught her to him with a swift arm to the waist, pulling her full against his body with a decisiveness that took her breath. He brushed his lips against her mouth. “When you play the stern and cranky nurse matron, it makes me want to put you on your back and bury myself in the sweetness between your legs all the more. I’ll be attending to that shortly.” He eased her back and ran an appraising eye over her. “Especially in that outfit. What did you do with my practical Nina?”
Despite how much time she’d spent resisting InhServ training, the mind that was able to remember every detail about a ward full of patients had forgotten none of what she’d been taught. Though Alistair had bought the extensive selection in her wardrobe, she’d been certain it was The Mistress who had sent him the list of appropriate things to buy, in all the right sizes. As a result, she was dressed as an InhServ would be expected to dress. By embracing it, she felt much as she did when donning her nurse’s uniform—properly prepared for what lay ahead.