by TJ Michaels
She went down in a heap and landed with a harsh thud flat on her stomach. It knocked the wind from her lungs but she wasn’t out. Not by a long shot. Nobody got away with cold cocking her in the side of the head. She felt something both icy and hot rush across her back, but she ignored it and rolled over to face her assailant.
A strange face with a malevolent grin loomed over hers. A fanged grin? What the hell?
The stranger lowered his mouth to her neck. A gag caught in her throat from just a whiff of his rancid breath. Yuck! It reminded her of old rotting pork. She tried to use her arms to push him back and stretch away from him, but he was too strong. Fine, she might not be a vampire, but she was no weakling. She bent her knees and pulled her legs close to her chest, creating an effective barrier between her and fang boy. Kicking with all her might, her legs sent the man flying backward. He landed in the rose bushes lining the side of the driveway. Thankful she lifted heavy weights frequently, she rolled to her knees and was on her feet in a boxing stance, ready to get it on.
Three men approached out of the darkness. One of them she recognized.
“Aleth? What the hell is going on?”
“Hello, Dr. Carinian,” Aleth Sidheon droned, sounding bored with the whole business. “These are some friends of mine. It appears you’ve been snooping into other people’s research. We can’t have that, now can we?”
Her back was on fire where something wet seeped through her jacket. Her knees trembled as she fought for consciousness, but she had to know what this was all about.
“Snooping into what?” she asked with much more gumption than she felt. The two men flanked her now, and the one she’d kicked into the rose bush made his way back to their little party with several thorns sticking out of his face. He didn’t look happy at all. They were all armed with wicked-looking bowie knives, moving around her until they formed a perfect circle.
How the hell had Sidheon figured out she’d nicked some of his specimens? She cleared her mind and thoughts—Bix had told her she projected too much—and concentrated on finding a way out of this mess. Better yet, maybe if she screamed Bix’s name loud enough in her head he would hear her somehow.
“We didn’t mean to frighten you, Doctor. After all, death is nothing to be afraid of,” Sidheon said with a chilling, long-toothed smile. So, her reasoning that Bix was after the good Dr. Aleth Sidheon because he was a vampire had been correct. So not good. “Besides, I have some fun planned for us first.”
She laughed outright. Not a cute little chuckle, but a good belly buster of a laugh. As much as her vision began to swim, she just couldn’t seem to stop. When she finally caught her breath, she gathered a fat wad of spit in her mouth and let it fly. Damn, he dodged it. And now he was pissed. She could feel the anger radiating off him.
With a signal from Sidheon, Fang Boy lunged in synch with the other two. She was grabbed from behind and felt the tender skin of her neck ripped open from her chin down to her collarbone. But that pain was nothing compared to the continual blows to her face and body, pummeling her, rocking her until she tasted her own coppery metallic blood as it pooled in her mouth. She tried to kick out at the man directly in front of her, tried to get away from at least one set of hands ravaging her body. But her arms were wrenched behind her back and pulled tight until she thought her elbows would meet. Silver blades flashed in the moonlight and a fresh agonizing burn radiated from her stomach and expanded out along her ribs.
It was too much. She was dying. One more hack or cut and her life was over. Then she saw it, the blade poised to deliver the final stroke headed towards the left side of her chest in a perfect, lethal arc. Following the knife with blurred vision, Carin made her peace with God.
A furious, agonized roar vibrated the air. Had she been screaming? Her burning, scratchy throat felt raw enough. Suddenly there were no more hands pulling her arms from the sockets. No more fists striking. No more blades ripping. Only the welcoming coolness of concrete under her body. No, the coolness wasn’t welcome. She didn’t want to die. That was the sole purpose of the last ten years of her life—to prevent the very thing that had come for her tonight. Damned son-of-a-bitch, death.
The last thing she saw was Bix’s bare hands ripping Fang Boy’s throat out while a blond giant gutted another of the creeps who’d been gutting her. God was so cool. He’d sent her two avenging angels—Bix, dark as sin and hard as stone, and the other was just as tall and powerful, but blond and so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him.
She wanted to shout to the bad guys, wanted to yell, “That’s what you get, you punks.” But the blackness came too swiftly, giving her no time to form the words.
* * *
Bix sat in the middle of Carin’s driveway and hauled her gently into his lap. The air was thick with the scent of her blood. The knowledge of what those bastards had done almost sent Bix over the edge into uncontrollable rage. Any blood not given freely was a crime in and of itself, but the blood of a mate went beyond a crime. The blood of a mate was sacred.
Her face was a bloody mess. The gouges and slashes on her neck and chest bled profusely. Her coat was shredded and the T-shirt underneath was soaked with her own blood. Bix’s cry of anguish and utter hopelessness filled the night. Sidheon would have to wait. His woman needed him now.
Without a second thought, he bit the large vein at the juncture of his wrist and squeezed his hand into a fist several times until the blood flowed freely.
Bix forced her mouth open with his free hand. Her breathing was way too shallow, her pulse faint, and she wasn’t responding. His blood poured down his hand and mingled with the hot red liquid soaking her top. His blood wouldn’t do her any good if he couldn’t get her to swallow it.
Alaan ran back to the SUV parked halfway on the sidewalk, opened the back door and then returned to Bix’s side. He heard Alaan’s footsteps but couldn’t turn off the automatic snarl of warning, baring his fangs at his partner. He didn’t want anyone else to touch Carin, not even his best friend.
“Bix, we don’t have time for this. She’s on the verge. Snap out of the prime shit and let me help you with your woman.”
Alaan’s words cut through his feral reaction. Carin. She was dying. If she left him, he didn’t know how he would ever bear it.
“Alaan, help me. Open her mouth and hold it open.”
Alaan did as Bix asked and carefully inserted his fingers into the corners of Carin’s mouth, forcing her cooling lips apart. He held her mouth open while Bix shifted her weight, supporting her with one arm and flexing his bleeding arm. His blood trickled in and pooled in the back of her throat. She still didn’t move. Didn’t swallow.
Bix hauled back and slapped her hard in the face, wincing at the loud smack and the palm print etched into her swelling, bruised cheek. Her swift intake of breath, followed by a round of gagging as the pooled blood slid down her throat, told him she was conscious for the moment. She groaned and tried to turn her head away.
“Come on, sweetheart. Stay with me.”
“Bix? Where are you?” Her voice was faint, weak, and his heart ached at the sound of the misery in her very thoughts.
“I’m here, Carin. Come on, baby, I need you to swallow for me. Stay with me just long enough to swallow.”
“Head…hurts. Don’t want to die… Owww.”
“I know, baby, but I need you to do as I say. Now.”
“Bossy.”
“You have no idea. Now do it. Swallow.”
He held her head still while Alaan forced her mouth open until she’d taken several large swallows. Bix sighed with relief when she lifted her head a fraction and turned into his embrace, seeking the source of the warmth flowing down her throat. He pressed his wound more firmly against her bruised lips, thankful when she latched onto it and suckled until she fell into blessed unconsciousness.
Alaan disappeared into the back of the SUV again and retrieved a small first-aid kit. Bix held out his arm just long enough for Alaan to wrap some good old-
fashioned gauze around the puncture wounds and tape it securely.
With the power and grace born of a vampire, Bix was on his feet in a flash, cradling Carin’s huddled form against his body. Settling into the backseat, he wrapped his big body around her to shield her from as much movement as possible.
Alaan shut the door, grabbed Carin’s overnight bag off the front lawn and threw it into the front passenger seat. He returned to the driveway, tossed the dead vamp bodies into an inconspicuous corner of her backyard, then jumped into the driver’s seat. He slammed the vehicle into reverse and stomped on the gas.
A quick glance over his shoulder and Alaan’s heart broke. He watched his friend in anguish, stroking his mate’s hair as his body sheltered her from the slightest bump or movement of their vehicle. Bix looked up at Alaan with haunted eyes full of despair and his heart wrenched for his friend. He flipped open his cell and hit the speed dial. A sultry purr filled the line.
“Natasha. It’s Alaan. I need to speak with my mother right now.”
“Sure, what’s going on?”
Alaan glanced into the rear-view mirror. Bix was shaking his head resolutely. Nodding his understanding, Alaan spoke into the mouthpiece of the cell phone again.
“My mother, Natasha. While I speak with her, you will make arrangements for a plane to be readied at the private airstrip in San Diego. We also need a mop up of three dead vamps at 14362 La Jolla. Backyard. You have ten minutes.”
Natasha jumped off the line. Alaan held back a sigh of relief when a familiar, soothing voice replaced Natasha’s—the Matriarch, Alaana Serati, his mother. Alaan filled her in on as much detail as he could in the ten minutes it took to get to the private airstrip owned by the Council and the clans.
Carin was placed on the plane in a reclining seat with as many pillows as they could find to tuck up against her and around her head. In minutes they were headed towards V.C.O.E. North American headquarters in the mountains of Montana.
Chapter Eleven
God, she had a splitting headache, and a splitting everything else. But at least something pleasantly warm and hard was pressed close against her body. She longed to reach out and touch it, but that meant she’d have to wake up. No, never mind. The way the pain leached through her semi-conscious mind, she knew if she fought to reach the surface of lucidity she’d regret it terribly. She’d never been big on pain.
A quiet, deep voice rumbled through the hard warmth next to her. Was the warmth speaking to her? No, it spoke to someone else a bit farther away. Now there were two voices, one she thought she recognized. Oh, please be quiet, she thought, wishing the talking would stop so she could fade back to the calm and pain-free blackness.
As she listened to the voice, she remembered the concrete coming up to meet her face as her own blood soaked through her clothes. And Bix crashing onto the scene looking like a dark avenging angel with his black hair standing on end. It was the first time she’d seen his fangs bared in anger, but she hadn’t been afraid of him. She knew he was there to take care of her. Then she’d floated in a weird sort of limbo, no voices, no sound, just a soothing calm. Until now.
“She’s lucky, Bix. There’s no way she should be alive.”
“What’s the extent of her injuries, Doc?”
“A couple of broken ribs, numerous lacerations on her neck, arms and across her chest, all stitched. We also stitched her up across her stomach and right shoulder where the knives penetrated. Most stomach wounds are fatal, but somehow her attackers missed her lungs and intestines.”
Bix shook his head as he listened to the laundry list of injuries Carin had sustained. And all because he hadn’t been where he was supposed to have been. With his mate. Would she ever forgive him?
“She’s also got a nasty bruise on the back of her skull. No concussion, but the bone of her cranium is bruised a bit. And of course the black eyes and facial wounds.”
“Damn,” Bix muttered, kissing the top of Carin’s head. He tightened his arms around her, determined she would never leave his bed again. She whimpered in her sleep and he loosened his hold.
“Is there anything I can do for her?” Hell, why was he asking that question. He’d already done, or rather not done, quite enough.
“She just needs rest and plenty of nutrients. She’s on a liquid diet with plenty of sleep aid and pain meds mixed in. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to put a little of your blood in with her meds. It’ll speed up her metabolism. She can come off the IV in a few days if she continues to improve.”
“What’s the bottom line?”
“She’ll heal. No scars. No problems. And…” The doctor paused, walking around to the other side of the bed to wrap a tourniquet around Bix’s free arm. “I can smell you on her. You know both the blood and semen of a prime male have regenerative properties for humans. She was fatally wounded and even the sex you’d had only hours before wouldn’t have been nearly enough to save her. If you hadn’t acted quickly and forced her to drink some of your blood, she never would have made it.”
Bix watched the doctor finish drawing from his ropy vein and inject the rich, red blood directly into Carin’s IV drip. He let out a pent-up breath and dropped yet another kiss into the riot of curls on top of Carin’s dark head.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. I should have been there sooner. If you never forgive me, I’ll understand. You mean so much to me, sweetheart. Thank you for not dying on me. Even if we’re never together again, just knowing you’re alive is enough for me.”
But was it? Losing her would rip his heart out, but it no longer mattered what he wanted. The only thing important to him was her happiness and safety. If it meant she wanted a future without him in it, he would accept it.
Bix thought he felt an answering call from deep inside Carin’s mind, but it faded to nothingness. He looked up and saw the doctor injecting pain medicine into her IV. If she had been close to consciousness, she wouldn’t be in about six seconds. After all, vampire pharmaceuticals were the best.
He lay next to her wishing he could will her awake just to look into her soulful brown eyes, but she needed sleep to recover. Though they were both naked under the covers, he was reluctant to touch her again now that he understood the extent of her injuries. Easing away from her battered body, he carefully left the bed. He didn’t want her out of his sight, but she’d be knocked out from the pain meds for several hours. If he was going to answer the Council’s summons, now was as good a time as any.
He showered in record time, threw on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, padded into the living room in bare feet, and eased the bedroom door closed behind him. His boots, filthy with caked-on blood and dirt, were in the same corner he’d kicked them into in the dark hours of the morning while the surgeons had worked on Carin right there in his apartment. Passing up the boots for a pair of comfortable sneakers, he slipped a warm sweatshirt over his head and strode out of his apartment. Two steps into the hallway, he stopped short. Alaan was waiting. They clasped hands but said nothing. The two of them hit the end of the hallway with long strides and descended the wide, cedar-planked staircase, headed for the Council Chambers on the first floor of the sprawling rustic mansion.
“Jon, wait.”
Damn it. “Natasha, I can’t talk to you right now.”
“But why did you bring that woman here?”
“I don’t believe it’s any of your business,” Bix snapped impatiently. “But since you’re are a Council’s Liaison, I’ll indulge you just this once. The woman is Dr. Carinian Derrickson.”
“Your target?”
“The same. And she’s mine.”
“What? You’re claiming your target? How dare you bring her here.” Natasha’s long black hair swung from side to side as she spewed bitter displeasure.
She jumped when Bix’s hand shot out and grabbed Alaan’s arm, holding him back. Fangs bared on a snarl, his partner promptly put the female in her place.
“You will not address a prime or a Seeker in that tone,
woman,” Alaan hissed.
Natasha took a step back, the shock on her face as easy to read as an open book. In fact, Bix was a bit surprised himself. He couldn’t recall Alaan or himself this worked up over a woman. Any woman, except Sher. The sounds emanating from both their throats brought a picture to mind—feline males fighting to protect their territory and their females. The truth hit him square in the gut. In no time, Carin had them wrapped around her little finger. And Bix didn’t want to be wrapped any other way.
Natasha lowered her head in deference to the prime males standing before her. She located an interesting spot on her shoe to study. But it wasn’t good enough. He expected, and would have, her submission. Council Liaison or not, she was subordinate to him and every other elder prime’s authority. Only the females of Clan Serati were immune, but even those warrior women showed proper respect to their males.
Bix crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. Hard. She’d let her mouth get away from her, and now she had to eat crow for it.
“I am waiting, Natasha.”
“I apologize, prime male Jon Bixler, prime male Alaan Serati,” she mumbled the proper and formal apology.
Bix felt her anger pulse and grow like a psychic cancer as she turned and slunk away. He had a feeling he hadn’t heard the end of this. Damned female.
* * *
Several hours later, Carin hovered on the edge of consciousness. Muzzy brained, she was sure her body was mired under several layers of wet blankets. She didn’t open her eyes, but knew something or someone was in the room with her. Something malevolent, evil. Something that wished she’d never wake up. Forcing the cotton from her mind, Carin willed the gears in her brain to start turning a bit faster. She had to wake up. She just had to.