The Scarlet Deep

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “And Zara’s.”

  Murphy paused. “Is she as unbalanced as everyone says?”

  “I only know from what Oleg has said, but you heard him at the pub. From everything I have heard, I would likely diagnose Zara with severe antisocial personality disorder with narcissistic tendencies. Though obviously I have not examined her, nor do I have any plans to do so.”

  He smiled.

  “What?”

  “I love your clinical voice,” he said. “Have I told you that? It makes me want to provoke you and make you lose your temper.”

  “And you like that?” Men, she decided, were a mystery.

  “I do.” He pulled her across his chest while his hands went down to cup her bottom.

  “Making sure my bottom is still there?”

  “Yes.” He gave it a gentle pat. “Do you want to know my favorite part of your being a vampire?”

  “Eternal youth?”

  “No.”

  “No worrying about suntans?”

  “No, I’d say we worry more about the sun than the average human.”

  “Good point. Is it…” She lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest. “Having a partner in immortality? A lover to walk through this endless night at your side? A mate who adores you?”

  He kissed her forehead. “Those are all very, very important, my love. But my favorite part”—he gave her backside a squeeze—“is that while you might swim a thousand miles… this beautiful arse will never get any smaller.”

  Anne burst into laughter, surprised and delighted that her mate—a proud, strong, sometimes-vicious vampire—was still more than a bit of a scoundrel.

  And she loved him for it.

  HER arms and legs were strapped down, and the lines running from her arteries, though the taps, as she jokingly called them, had not been pulled. Murphy was on one side and her father was on the other in the cold white room.

  Murphy curled his lip as he looked around. “Wasn’t there a better place to do this?”

  Gemma’s physician raised an eyebrow. “Did you want to pour ten pints of infected blood down the sink in a five-star hotel? Where did you think we were going to exsanguinate her?”

  She squeezed his hand. “It’s fine, Patrick.”

  “It’s a morgue, Anne.”

  Tywyll sniffed. “She ain’t gonna die. What’re ye worried about?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He looked over his shoulder at Carwyn. “You’re sure?”

  “Lucien sent very detailed notes. As long as the doctor and Tywyll follow his instructions, everything should be all right.”

  “And the donor blood is ready?”

  “They’re standing by. She won’t wake until tomorrow night anyway.”

  Murphy smoothed a hand over her forehead. He’d already insisted on a hospital bed instead of the usual metal table. Then he’d replaced the institutional sheets with a higher thread count and put a down pillow behind her back.

  “Patrick?”

  He frowned. “Hmm? Are you comfortable enough? Shall I get you—”

  “I’m fine. Kiss me.”

  She could see his fussing for what it was. Even though they had a plan, even though the human doctor was present along with her sire, he was still worried. He’d been the one to reassure her the night before, now it was her turn.

  She tugged the end of his tie and pulled him down for a soft kiss. “I’m going to go to sleep, a chuisle. Just for a bit. And then my father will give me his blood and I’ll sleep some more. Then I’m going to wake up, and I expect you to be there.”

  “I will be.”

  “I also expect chocolate. And possibly a bottle of very good wine.”

  A small smile broke through his anxious mask. “So noted, Dr. O’Dea.”

  “Shall I keep making demands, Mr. Murphy?”

  “Not unless you want to embarrass your poor da.”

  The human doctor and Carwyn both laughed, and her father squeezed her hand.

  “Let’s get on with it, then,” he said. “And lad? Be prepared for her. I’m older than the first time I sired her.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Carwyn patted Murphy’s shoulder. “Older sire, stronger amnis. It means she’ll truly be kicking your arse this time around.”

  Murphy locked his eyes with hers. “I’m counting on it.”

  “Do it,” she said.

  Anne felt the soothing brush of her father’s amnis on one side, her mate’s on the other, then the almost imperceptible tug of her blood leaving her body. Her amnis spiked, rushing over her skin until her sire and mate calmed her. Anne’s mind clouded as the minutes passed. There was a clock ticking on the wall. An odd hum coming from the next room. Soft voices and whispered questions surrounded her.

  Seconds dragged into minutes dragged into…

  A shallow breath soughed through her lips.

  Was death so quiet when he came for her again?

  She thought she heard an old lullaby her mother had sung when she was a babe. But when she listened closer, she realized it wasn’t her mother, but her sire. Tywyll’s reedy voice surrounded her as she sank into the deep, his energy a gentle blanket over her.

  Anne closed her eyes and died.

  “NO!”

  “Step back,” Carwyn told him, pulling at his shoulders. “Murphy, you’re going to break the bed.”

  She was gone. Gone. Her amnis, the glowing life within him, had gone dark. Her face was slack, her skin almost translucent.

  For long minutes, he’d felt it fading, but he’d held onto it, held onto the thread until…

  Gone.

  “Anne!” He clutched at Carwyn’s arm as the other vampire forced him to a chair and away from her body. “Let me go!”

  “She’s not gone.” Carwyn brushed a hand over Murphy’s hair as the pain exploded within him.

  It hurt.

  Physically. Mentally. Murphy’s heart ached with the lack of her. The sound that came from him was a groan of rage and pain and loss. A dying sound wrenched from the depths of his soul. Carwyn held him by the shoulders, the vampire’s ancient bulk the only thing holding him back.

  The human physician removed the lines running from Anne’s thighs, arms, and neck.

  “It’s done. I cannot remove any more.”

  “Tywyll?” Carwyn asked. “Do you have her?”

  The old vampire leaned over his daughter, ripping open his wrist with his own fangs, holding her limp body in his arms as he tilted her head back and forced her mouth open.

  Thick red blood dripped into her mouth, but Anne’s lips did not move.

  Murphy felt the gathering rage. “Carwyn…”

  “Hold, lad.”

  Each second was an eternity. Anne’s father stroked her neck, working the blood into her system, forcing more down her throat even as Murphy saw the color draining from his face. Carwyn snapped at the doctor, who opened the ice chest he’d brought with him and tossed Carwyn a bag of human blood.

  He handed it to Tywyll, still keeping a wary hand on Murphy. “Drink.”

  Tywyll bit into the cold plastic with a grimace, but he did not move his wrist from Anne’s mouth. He kept ripping open the wound to feed her again.

  After a dark eternity of minutes, Murphy felt it.

  The first creeping tendrils of energy snaked from her body toward her sire. Her neck arched imperceptibly, and her mouth fell open as bright fangs grew in her mouth.

  A snarling noise came from her throat, and she latched onto Tywyll’s wrist, biting hard into the old man, who wrapped an arm around her back and smiled.

  “There’s my girl,” he said, brushing the hair back from her forehead. “There’s my Annie girl.”

  Murphy let out the breath he’d been holding, and his shoulders slumped.

  She was back.

  ANNE woke with a burn in her throat. She felt Murphy at her side, helping her to sit, holding a glass to her lips.

  Ambrosia.

  She g
ulped down the first glass, then the second. Fresh blood. Cool, but still pulsing with life.

  Three glasses.

  Four.

  “Keep going,” he murmured, stroking her back. “There’s plenty more, love.”

  Anne felt some spill over her lip. “Murphy?”

  He kissed her chin, lapping up the spilled blood and kissing her stained mouth quickly before he pulled away.

  “I’m here.”

  She felt her fangs lengthen and ache. She wanted to bite. Wanted to suck. Wanted to sink her teeth into his neck. His chest.

  Anne pulled him closer, throwing her leg over his.

  Murphy chuckled. “Someone woke hungry. Take a break now. You can drink the rest at a slower pace.”

  “Want you,” she rasped. “Need…”

  “What do you need, love?”

  “Bite.” A wave of her amnis spiked outward.

  “Well, that hasn’t changed. Careful now,” he murmured. “Your influence is a lot stronger than it used to be.”

  Murphy pulled her closer, letting his amnis meet hers. A wave of his desire and longing. He was as naked as she was. His body had been the one warming hers in the darkness. His arms had been her armor.

  “Murphy?” Her voice came out high and needy. She pressed a hand to her belly. “Please.”

  “Shhhh,” he murmured, drawing her head toward his neck. “I was worried. You were out for two nights, not one.”

  She scraped her fangs along his neck, drawing a thick red line that made his back arch.

  “Bite me now,” he commanded, pressing her mouth to his neck.

  She bit, and the rich taste of his blood only stoked the fire growing in her. She pushed him back, sliding her body down his until she could feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against her.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “Now. Take me.”

  She slid down, hungry for him to fill her as she drank from his vein. Murphy wrapped strong arms around her and rocked, pressing a hand to the small of her back to control her movements, gripping her hip as she began to come.

  Their loving went on for hours, but her hunger was not sated. Anne hungered for and feared his bite, still uncertain that her blood was clean.

  “No,” she said, pressing him back when he kissed her throat.

  “Anne—”

  “Wait for me,” she begged him. “Make sure it’s safe. I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you, Patrick.” Her emotions ran wild, and the tears slipped down her face. “Please.”

  He kissed her, sliding his tongue against hers in a luxurious caress.

  “I’ll wait,” he said against her lips. “For you, I’d wait an eternity.”

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  MURPHY STRODE THROUGH THE OFFICE, ignoring Angie, who was asking him to sign papers about… something.

  Something far less interesting than what he held in his hands.

  “Patrick, you have got to stop and—”

  She almost ran into him when he came to a halt in the hallway. He spun and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it before he lifted it high.

  “This is fecking brilliant!”

  Angie’s mouth dropped open, and he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. His smile was laughter and wickedness all at once.

  “And we’re going to make a fortune.”

  “Patrick, the Reedley papers. They’re ready for you to review before the final signatures.”

  He waved a hand toward his office as his eyes went back to his new toy. “Fine. Just… set them on my desk and I’ll— Wait! No.” He did a small dance in the hallway. “E-mail them to me, Ang.” He held up the electronic tablet in his hand. “I have a PDF reader.”

  “Oh,” she groaned. “You’re going to be as bad as the young people now. Christ help us if you get a mobile phone.”

  “That’s next!”

  Murphy kept walking. He had to show Anne.

  He took the stairs two at a time down to street level and walked the few blocks to her office, glad that he’d had the foresight to buy the small building. It was close enough to easily secure, but far enough that her immortal clients still felt comfortable visiting.

  Part of what he’d predicted had come to pass. Anne didn’t have as many immortal clients since she’d publicly taken her place as his consort. But there were still plenty of vampires who trusted her. Many who were not active in politics didn’t care if her offices were in Galway or Dublin. And her human patients cared even less.

  He tucked the precious tablet under his arm and whistled as he walked down the sidewalk, glancing at the clock—a digital clock!—on the front of the screen to check the time. It was late, and he was hoping to catch her between clients. Or, if he was very lucky, she’d be done for the night and he could tempt her home.

  He’d heard the good-natured teasing among his men, but he ignored it. Murphy wasn’t a regular at the club these days, though he made a point to come in every now and then to keep everyone on their toes.

  What could he say? Home had become infinitely more interesting once Dr. O’Dea had taken up residence.

  He pushed through the door and spotted Anne’s very efficient assistant, Holly, holding up a finger, which meant his mate was with a patient.

  “What’s that you have there, Mr. Murphy?” the girl asked in a subdued voice.

  Murphy smiled and held it up. “First prototype of a new device.”

  “Oh, how clever.” Holly’s eyes lit up. “How does it work, then? You don’t break it at all?”

  “Not so far.” He pulled a chair over and began showing the girl the different features, including the case made out of a new type of nonconductive polymer.

  She humored him. The young woman was the daughter of one of his software engineers and had recently graduated from Trinity. No doubt Holly had something far more sophisticated at home, with a much sleeker case. Murphy didn’t care.

  It worked.

  “That’s brilliant, sir. I have to admit, I can use the keyboard regular, but I do prefer the voice software you gave me. It’s very convenient.”

  “What do you like the best?”

  Nothing like a little market research to pass the time. He might send Declan around to question the girl more. The Nocht software had been in testing for four months within their organization. Combined with the tablet, Murphy and Declan were hoping that it would give vampires a smooth platform for running most home computer programs, security systems, and mobile applications. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it was a start.

  “What time did her patient get here?”

  “Oh, I don’t know if she’s strictly a patient. Dr. O’Dea said you had a meeting with her and her husband later tonight. I think they might be getting acquainted is all. She asked not to be disturbed.”

  As if on cue, the door opened, and two laughing women exited. One was human, clearly pregnant from both her scent and her appearance. She had curling red hair that looked right at home in Ireland, though she spoke with an American accent.

  “Murphy!” Anne said with a smile. “Are you finished with work?”

  He held up the tablet. “It works.”

  She clapped her hands together, grinning as she held out her hands. “Show me!”

  Murphy hid it behind his back even as he bent to kiss her cheek. “You have a guest, love.”

  “Sorry, yes.” Anne didn’t look sorry; she looked happy. “I’m a very bad politician.”

  “But an excellent hostess,” the American said, holding out her hand. “You must be Patrick Murphy. Thank you so much for meeting with us. I’m Natalie Ellis, Baojia’s wife.”

  He took her hand and shook it. “My apologies. I didn’t expect to meet you until later this evening.”

  “I have to thank Anne for indulging me. Our oldest son is two, and he is not the best about going to sleep away from home. Combine that with jet lag…” She rolled her eyes. “My husband is attempting bedtime while I make myself scarce. If Jacob sees me, all
bets are off. I called Anne, hoping to find someone to hang out with at this time of night.”

  He put an arm around his mate, who promptly swiped the tablet.

  Murphy laughed and said, “I hope your accommodations are comfortable.”

  “They are, thank you. Carwyn and Brigid are awesome hosts. And Brigid’s Aunt Sinead has Jake completely charmed. We might end up stealing her and taking her back to California.”

  It was unusual for vampires to have families, but not unheard of, especially if they took human mates. It wasn’t biologically possible for immortals to breed, but modern technology had proved helpful in some areas.

  Murphy’s nosiness about the arrangement grew from pure curiosity. Baojia’s deadly reputation had crossed oceans. It was hard to imagine the vicious killer coaxing a small child to bed. Murphy wondered if Baojia had remaining blood relatives or whether his children’s biological father was anonymous.

  None of his business really, though it did make him grateful that his mate was already immortal.

  There were no tests for Elixir in the bloodstream, but Anne’s appetite was as voracious as a newborn. While that caused its own set of problems, especially since blood restrictions were still in place, it did reassure them that the transfusion from her sire had been effective. If Elixir had still been in her system, a lack of hunger would have been the first symptom.

  “I don’t suppose,” Murphy said, “that you can tell me why Baojia requested a visit?”

  Natalie opened her mouth, then closed it. “I think I need to leave that to him. I try not to poke my nose into official business too much. I can say I think it’ll be welcome news. I tagged along because I’ve never been to Ireland. Well, and my husband has a hard time letting me out of his sight while I’m gestating.”

  Anne blinked. “I suppose he would.”

  “Is your family Irish?” Murphy asked. She certainly looked it with her red hair and smattering of freckles.

  “My dad was, but a long way back. I’m from Northern California.”

  “It’s a beautiful part of America.” He reached over and grabbed the tablet from Anne. “My toy.”