She swung the door open and ran right into the wide expanse of Slade’s chest. “What the hell—”
“Exactly the response I was expecting.” His eyes peeled off her clothes and drifted beyond her narrow shoulders into the studio. He couldn’t have made his thoughts any more transparent. “Mind if I come in and talk to you for a minute?”
Her traitorous body responded by flushing heat to her center. “I don’t think so. If you want an easy lay, you’re gonna have to check out the single ads in the Crimson Times. And I don’t have a copy on hand, so if you’ll excuse me . . . ”
His chest was a massive wall she couldn’t maneuver around. She stepped one way, he mirrored. She stepped the opposite, he followed suit. Then he pushed past into her studio.
He scoped the place from the worn sheepskin rug to the scattered tabletop. “Quaint, isn’t it?”
“Do you mind?” she asked, stomping through the room, picking up pieces of clothing and shoving them into her closet. “I told you not to come in. You do speak English, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but I’ve got a problem and I need to know what I can do about it before Savage breathes down my neck again.”
“What are you talking about?”
He picked at the callus on his hand like he was debating answering the question truthfully. Lying sucker. Okay, so he was a gorgeous lying sucker. Still didn’t deserve her time, especially by the way he’d treated her back in the Hole. Being proud of his Newborn Representative status was business. As the one who prepped him, she was entitled to be a little proud. His negative attitude toward her, however, was personal—something she wouldn’t get over anytime soon.
“I, uh, have a problem feeding, it seems,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. “After Induction we were taken back to the khiss’s kitchen to feed. I was supposed to kick things off as the damn newborn Induction rep or whatever, and I . . . couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. So I skipped out.”
“You mean you haven’t filled up yet?”
He shook his head. God, his eyes were too red. Liquid lava swirled around the black of his pupils.
“If the problem’s a flavor thing, we have all types available. If you’re a shy feeder, you’re able to take bottles back with you after your second exposure. All I know is whatever’s holding you back, you better fix it fast. Otherwise you’re gonna be in a world of hurt. Savage doesn’t tolerate any type of defiance, passive included.”
“Tell me about it. They said if I don’t feed within the hour they’ll have to run all sorts of tests to make sure my genes are normal variety. I was hoping you could tell me a way out.”
“Of the tests?”
“You got it.”
“Not likely,” she chuckled.
“Why?”
“Because I’m the one who gives them. I own ReVamp. It’s a facility off Fell Street that helps struggling vampires with their urges. We’re also responsible for the blood work of khisses in the area. So, if you don’t feed, like, now, you’re gonna end up coming with me. I just don’t understand how you’re so controlled. Most newborns are crazed with hunger by now.”
“I guess you were right. I’m different. Now let’s work on making me the same so I can blend in around here and get Savage off my back. If I go with you to this ReVamp place, will you help me?”
What if his vampiric genes were mutating, going through some sort of undiscovered latency period instead of changing right away? The last thing she needed was a bloodlusting newborn male on her hands with the sexual prowess of a . . . she couldn’t think about that. Not now.
Damn it, she really shouldn’t help him. “Fine,” she said, striding for the door. “But it’s only because I’m expecting a delivery and have to head over there anyway. We’ll get you something to drink and I’ll vouch for your second exposure. If you can’t or won’t feed, don’t think I won’t strap you down to the table and take your blood by force.”
“Sounds like my kind of fun.”
Dylan took that as a yes, ignored the mental image of him lying naked on her exam table, then pushed past him and headed toward the back of the warehouse to where she parked her Jetta.
She kept up the pace so as not to run into Erock again. She hoped he was too busy blabbing about her defiance to his daddy that he’d miss her sneaking out, and that his daddy was too busy playing Primus to care about his son’s ego.
As she pushed through the back door, her skin crawled. Her stomach balled into knots. She checked the roof of the warehouse across the alley for therian movement.
Nothing.
She scanned the street, eyeing dumpsters, stacks of flat crates. Looking for anything out of the ordinary. Slade must’ve felt it too. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes following hers.
Someone was watching them.
“Come on, let’s go.” he said, his voice rough, his eyes dead-set on a cardboard box across the alley. “Which one’s yours?”
A dozen cars and SUVs littered the street. She pointed to her Jetta, the only one parked underneath the blacked-out umbrella of a broken streetlamp. Figures.
He reached a hand under her elbow and guided her to the car. His touch sent chills scattering up her arm that lingered even as he released her to open the driver’s side door. She slipped into the car, watching him circle the front, still eyeing that same deflated box.
The feeling they were being watched stuck with her. Something wasn’t right—except for the first time in her life, she felt like if something went down, she’d be fine. She wouldn’t have to worry about fighting for her life against an overpowering therian.
Slade was at her side.
Even though he was a newborn, still getting used to his strength and speed, she knew by the stature of his body and the fire in his eyes that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. And her. She hadn’t known him long—barely knew him at all, actually. Despite that, she got the feeling he was the type of man who would protect a woman at all costs—a chivalrous, honest man in a world of liars and traitors.
She glanced over at his muscular frame, his crimson eyes glowing hot in the moonlight.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked. “Let’s hit it.”
She brought the engine to life and made her way toward ReVamp.
The silence between them didn’t last long.
“I should apologize for my behavior in there,” Slade said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you by forgetting my place. I tend to have problems keeping my mouth shut.”
“It’s done with. No big deal.”
He fidgeted with the radio. Then the heater. Then the angle of the vents. “I guess I’m having a few problems with the impulse thing. What was all that about anyway?”
“What?” She knew exactly what.
“That Valcdana bullshit. Are you really going to marry that guy?” He swiped his palms over his black slacks. Were those nerves? Or was he was having more trouble controlling himself than he cared to admit . . . ?
“I’d rather not talk about it.” She merged onto the freeway and lead-footed the four-cylinder into the fast lane.
Slade gripped the oh-shit handle and looked the part. “I can see you’re . . . less than excited about the situation. I had a couple questions, that’s all.”
Oh, that’s all. He only wanted to ask what she thought about sharing one of their most sacred mating rituals with a royal jackass. He wanted to chat about how she was going to be drained, pass over to the other side, and have her life rest in the hands of a vamp she didn’t trust. Oh, sure, he’d revive her so they could be together forever. No big deal. “Like I said. I really don’t want to talk about it.”
He stared out at the passing cityscape. “It’s understandable if you’re afraid.”
“I am not afraid,” she blurted. “I’d just rather not spend the evening talking about something I have no control over.”
“So it’s not your choice then?”
“What, you think I want to be married to that i
diot?” She huffed, downshifting into fourth gear, swerving through two lanes of traffic to make her exit. “No, it is not my choice, but if that’s what my Primus wants, that’s what I’ll do. I’ve really had enough of this conversation. Mind if we drop it?”
The temperature in the car rose. “You’ll marry someone you hate because some ego-tripping boss wants you to? Sounds twisted.”
His persistence was epic. So were his strong jaw and chiseled physique, but she wasn’t going there. “It’s not twisted. It’s how our society is run. It’s how we’ve survived this long. Strong, royal lines mesh together to create strong young. It’s not that difficult to understand.”
“I may be new to this but I’m not an idiot. I understand more than you know. Just not this.”
Silence spanned the length of the Golden Gate. And back.
Now she’d done it: insulted his intelligence. Made him feel like a fool for asking a simple question about their customs. Wasn’t this her job? To inform him?
She swallowed her pride and took a deep breath. “The Valcdana ceremony is one of the most cherished of our rituals. Two royals—or in my case, two people deemed worthy—join together by order of the Primus.”
She took a moment to gain her composure before continuing. She kept her eyes on the passing buildings in the business district. She knew Slade was watching her closely, but tried not to think about what he was inferring about her hesitation.
“When it’s time for their mating, the male will drain the female completely, within an inch of her life. Only when she’s about to take her last breath is she allowed to feed from him. The blood pulsing through him, into her, gives her new life. The high is said to be unlike anything on this planet.” Once she got rambling, she couldn’t stop. Her words were like a river, flowing into the cab of the car, as smooth as the freeway they were traveling. “If the female lives through the process, the male is said to gain power and unbelievable strength. The female experiences pleasure beyond her wildest dreams and gains insight into the roles they each play in the grand scheme. The hope is that a child is created from the union. If a child is born, he or she will be stronger and wiser than both parents combined. But it hasn’t happened by the book like that in centuries . . .”
“What do you mean, if the female lives? What would be the point of keeping up the ritual if you killed all the worthy women?”
“The process is a sacred and delicate one and it’s an honor to be chosen. It signifies strength and duty. I guess I can’t expect you to understand that yet.”
“Believe me, I understand duty more than most things.”
She didn’t know why, but she believed him.
He cleared his throat and spoke up. “What happens when you . . . when the female makes it through?”
“Well, the female is drained so low some have said they actually cross to the other side before they’re saved and enlightened. Many never get to tell what happened because once their males started feeding they couldn’t stop.”
“But I thought vampires . . . we . . . don’t feed from our own kind.”
“We don’t. There’s no nutritional value in our blood. But feeding and lust go hand in hand. When one gets amped-up, it doesn’t take a genius to find out what happens to the other.”
His jaw clenched, his temples flared. He looked . . . angry. Borderline jealous.
“And you’re going to go through with this ceremony?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Even though you know what might become of you?”
“I told you. I don’t have a choice.”
“The hell you don’t.”
Two things were going to happen in a heart-flicker.
First, Slade was going to have a nice fucking heart-to-heart with Moses sooner than he’d like. That bastard had sent a therian to keep lookout, posting up in the alley as a stray dog. Slade knew Moses played dirty, but that was beyond low. No trust.
It was a good thing Spot stayed put. Slade would’ve hated chopping the head off a fellow warrior, but he would’ve done it to keep Dylan safe. It wouldn’t be fair to drag her into their war—she may be a blood-sucker, true, and a night-walking creature who fed off innocent mundanes, but she was no warrior. She didn’t belong bloodied on their battlefield.
She was being victimized by her own race, for Christ’s sake! Therians were planning to tear her haven to shreds. He wasn’t about to let her get hammered from both sides on the same night. At least not while he was standing by.
Besides, no matter how much strength she exuded, he could sense her vulnerability and see the sensitivity in the depths of her eyes. She needed protecting. Even if Slade didn’t understand where the feeling came from, he knew the second that therian twitched from behind the box across the alley, he was the one who needed to protect her. He felt it as strong as the need to breathe.
Second thing on Slade’s agenda: finding a way around all the Valcdana red tape. There was no way he would let a woman go into that type of situation against her will, vampire or not. It wasn’t right. If it was with someone Dylan wanted, yearned for, dreamed of, his brain could wrap around it. He’d ease up.
Maybe.
But with someone she despised? Someone she couldn’t trust to bring her back around after she was drained? That Valcdana bullshit wasn’t happening as long as he was around.
Dylan pulled up to a large clinic in the middle of the business district.. Wings spanned the length of the block and curved around the side. Its dark cathedral columns and arching bay window screamed Gothic ritz. The overhead sign read: ReVamp, with a looping crimson-red ribbon in place of the e. Scoffing at the sheer magnitude of the clinic, Slade searched for the black carpet rollout. He figured she saved that treatment for patients who were considered psychopathic royalty—real sick ones like Dracula or Edward Cullen.
“You know,” Slade said, peering at the grandeur of the building beneath the window frame of the car. “I’m familiar with this part of the city, but I’ve never noticed this building here before. That’s odd. I’m sure I would’ve remembered seeing it . . .”
“It’s protected by a heavy-duty maware meant to keep it under wraps. It’s only revealed to you now because you’ve nearly completed the final stage of your transition. Anyone else walks by this place, therian or mundane, all they’ll see is a boarded-up old building.”
Oh, shit. Slade had heard of elder magic, but never seen it first hand. He thought it was fanciful lore. Ghost stories about elders strong enough to place protective orbs over entire cities, or control time at their whim by flashing forward, backward and sideways, had reached therian circles near and far, but Slade never paid much attention. Looking at the black-walled clinic now, Slade didn’t doubt such magic existed.
“You said you own it?” he asked, unable to detach his eyes from the clinic.
“Yeah, my Dad left it to me before he died. He’s the one who founded it. Feels like forever ago, lifetimes maybe, but it’s only been about fifty years.”
“Funny how time does that to a memory,” he said absently.
“You know, you talk like you understand what it’s like to live centuries but you can’t be more than thirty.” Her voice was far from accusatory. Her statement was one of wonder, of gentle curiosity.
He’d have to watch his mouth with this one, wouldn’t he? “What business is going down tonight?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t notice the stark change of subject. “You mentioned something about a delivery?”
“Yeah, we’re expecting a shipment from Alvambra, the bottling company we use for our donors. You heard about ReVamp at Induction, so you know what I’m up against here. If I don’t find what’s tainting the blood supply, I’m in hot water. The delivery tonight should contain more samples from our stable donor, so I can run more tests. Feels like every day I’m waiting for that breakthrough. It’s on the tip of my fingers, just out of reach.”
“Why don’t you just go knock on the donor’s door and bring them in? Why wait for some shipment?”
“That’s not how things are done around here. There are clauses of anonymity designed to protect human’s identities. If we can’t secure that for them, they might be hesitant to come in, you know?”
Yeah, he could imagine. He’d seen first hand the damage they could to do to unsuspecting mundanes.
Images of pale, drained bodies lying crooked in back alleys came to mind first. Then, just as suddenly, the memory of a young red-haired blood-doll came to mind. Those bloodlusting leeches had broken apart a wire clothes hanger and stabbed it through her shoulder blades, slicing through her flesh like she was a damned fish. They’d hanged her from the ceiling fan—a piece of raw meat to feed and fuck at whim. As she slowly spun round and round, dozens of bite marks glowed pink against her powdery white skin.
Why a beautiful mundane gal like that would sacrifice herself for the erotic pleasure of a vampire bite was beyond Slade‘s twisted imagination.
That night Slade set each of her sexually-sadistic captors back to hell with a silver bullet lodged in his heart. Assignments like that made his day job worthwhile. Wiping those sick bastards off the planet reminded him vampires were no good.
Dylan slid out of the Jetta, bag and folder in hand. The slamming of her door roused Slade from the twisted memory that was one of many plaguing his sketchy past.
He followed on her heels to the front entrance. He tried hard not to stare at the natural swinging of her hips when she walked, but when he raised his eyes to appropriate level, all he wanted to do was run his fingers through her mahogany curls. He could still feel their softness on his palm, the fluffy curls coiling lightly around his fingers.
Well, damn, wasn’t he a walking contradiction. He chastised himself for the hundredth time, wondering how it was possible to have deep-rooted hatred for the vampire race yet such a strong connection to Dylan.
There was just something about her. She was . . . different.
The moment Slade walked into the clinic, he was taken aback. The whole building was dark but professional, like a sterile doctor’s office smoothed-out with red velvety chairs and deep gray walls. Long-stemmed red and black roses occupied the frosted vases perched on either side of the front counter. Red lights on the ceiling and black swags above the windows finished off the warm ambiance.
Intervamption Page 9