Lady & the Vamp ib-3

by Мишель Роуэн

  His stomach lurched and he let out a strangled cry. Malcolm hadn't been gentle with her. It looked as if she'd been attacked by a wild animal, the fang marks on her neck uneven and raw.

  Quinn grabbed at a pillow and ripped the case from it, trying to make a bandage. He held it against her neck to try to stop the bleeding.

  "How long?" he asked her. "Dammit. How long was he here?"

  Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.

  Too long, he thought. Malcolm had drunk from her for too long.

  Janie was going to die. The victim of a vampire. The combination of too much blood loss and the vampire toxins from Malcolm's fangs were a deadly combination.

  That bastardmeant for this to happen. He meant to leave her to die alone.

  Why had Quinn waited so long before he came over to check on her? He could have prevented this.

  His throat hurt so much he could barely form words. His eyes blurred. "Please, hold on. You can't die on me. Not like this."

  Keeping the bandage pressed against her throat he reached toward the phone. He could call an ambulance. Call hotel security. Something. Anything.

  But then his hand curled into a tight fist, and he turned away from the phone and back to Janie. Whoever he called wouldn't understand what just happened. And besides, it would be too late before anyone arrived to help even if they knew how to treat such an injury. He'd seen vampire attacks like this before.

  Witnessed men twice Janie's size succumb to blood loss much quicker. There was no hope for them.

  There was no hope for her.

  He swore loudly and got up from the bed, grinding his fists into his closed eyes. His stomach twisted painfully, and he felt as if he was going to be sick. He looked down at her and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth.

  "No," he said again, and it sounded so strangled that he realized he was crying from frustration and grief.

  "I'm not losing you.Goddammit , Janie. Do you hear me?"

  He crawled onto the bed next to her and gathered her into his arms. The life was leaving her eyes. He had no time to think things through. No time to worry if he was doing the right thing or the wrong thing, if she'd thank him or if she'd hate him.

  She could hate him. She could want to kill him. He didn't really give a damn. At least she'd be alive.

  He was pretty sure she couldn't hear him anymore, but he kept talking anyhow. "You've been trying to convince me that my being a vampire doesn't make me a monster. I'm really hoping you were serious about that."

  He brought his wrist to his mouth and, without taking his gaze from Janie, slit his flesh with the sharp edge of a fang. He felt so numb that he didn't even register the pain.

  "I'm sorry, Janie." He pressed his bleeding wrist to her mouth. "Call me selfish. It's true. But I'm not losing you like this."

  And then he prayed. Something he hadn't done for… he didn't even know how long. He'd been Catholic once. A good Irish Catholic boy. His mother once took him to confession. It was a fuzzy memory, since she'd died when he was only six, but it came to him right then. Lighting the candle, his mother smiling down at him, mussing his hair; then he'd gone and spoken to the priest about the tiny sins that little boys commit.

  Things had changed greatly since then. He had a lot more to confess if he ever went back.

  "Please, God," he murmured. "This seems like an odd situation to ask for your help with, but I'm begging you—don't let her die. Please. I'll do anything. Just get her through this. I know exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to find that asshole Malcolm and get the Eye back. Then I'll make the wish. I'll wish Janie human again so none of this will matter and she'll be okay. But I have to do this and, please God, let it work. Let her live."

  It felt as if it took forever before she began to respond to his blood.

  He worried that his own lack of strength and lousy nutrition of late would come back to haunt him now.

  The only blood he'd had recently had been Janie's. When he'd been injured last night, his own blood had run thick and unnatural and inhuman. But what came from his wrist now was red and filled with life.

  It was Janie's, after all. She'd given him his life back. Now he was returning the favor.

  Finally she began to drink, and the feel of her mouth at his wrist was such a relief he felt tears stream down his cheeks, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. He held his wrist to her mouth and with his other hand stroked the long, tangled blond hair off her face.

  He watched as the color slowly came back to her cheeks. Her gaze fixed on his as she drank, and the intelligence and awareness returned to her eyes. Her forehead creased as she realized what was happening, but she didn't release his wrist.

  "That's right." He managed to smile down at her and then kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and the side of her mouth softly "You're going to be okay."

  A tear slipped down her temple, and he wiped it away with his thumb. Finally she closed her mouth and lay back on the bed.

  "Janie?" he asked, holding his wrist tightly to stop the bleeding.

  "Thank you," she murmured and then drifted off to sleep.

  Janie pried one eye open and then the other.

  So this was the afterlife, huh? Looks a lot like my hotel room.

  She propped herself up on her elbows and looked around.

  Itwas her hotel room. Two double beds. A bathroom. A closet. A portrait of a strung-out Courtney

  Love on the wall…

  No, wait. That was her reflection in the mirror.

  She reached up to touch her face and wipe at the mess of smeared eyeliner and lipstick.

  She turned her head and saw Quinn. He'd just emerged from the bathroom. He froze in place when he saw she was awake.

  "Is that a wet towel in your hand," she managed, surprised at how croaky her voice sounded. "Or are you just happy to see me?"

  His lips twitched, and she was pretty sure she saw relief in his dark blue eyes. "I'm very happy to see you. But this is also a towel. For your neck."

  She nodded and grimaced. Her neck. Vampire chew-toy central. Seriously. Was she wearing a sign on her back that month that said "Bite me"?

  She reached up to touch the wound, but Quinn closed the distance and grabbed her hand. "It's pretty bad."

  "Have I told you about the time when a zombie tried to eat my intestines on an assignment?" she asked weakly. "First of all, intestines can't possibly be a tasty treat. Ever. Even if you're a rotting corpse. Very disgusting. But you should see my scar. Some people think I've had a tummy tuck. I can cover it up with a bikini, but still. Not a pleasant experience, so I'm sure this can't be worse than that."

  "So I'm guessing that the zombiedidn't eat your intestines."

  "Good guess."

  He handed her the towel and she pressed it to her neck.Damn . Hurt like hell.

  She nodded over at her purse. "There's a tube of ointment in there. Can you grab it for me?"

  He did as she asked and brought the small tube over to her. "What is that?"

  "Healing balm. Should do the trick and get rid of these… wounds."

  His lips were very tight, and he nodded. "Can I help?"

  "Sure. Smear a little on my neck. I'll be good as new before you know it."

  She saw his throat work. "You're very brave."

  "It's in my job requirements."

  Very gently, he dabbed some of the ointment on her neck. He was close enough that she could see that his eyes were red. She didn't ask him why. She already knew.

  She was a vampire now. Just like Malcolm. Just like Quinn.

  Simple. It was so simple. But just because something was simple didn't mean that it was easy. Her head hurt too much to go over what this meant for her. Not now. Not yet.

  When he was done, he looked up at her. There was no humor in his expression. "I'm sorry, Janie."

  "What?"

  "I… I'm so sorry—" His voice caught on the words. "If there was another way—"

  She shook her head. "Don
't be sorry."

  "Do you remember what happened?"

  "Vaguely. The main parts." Her jaw clenched. "Malcolm was waiting for me in the dark. He used my own stun gun—myown stun gun —on me. I don't know why I didn't see that coming."

  "I should have let you stake him at the museum."

  "You think?"

  He covered his face with his hands. "This is all my fault."

  "Spilled milk, Quinn."

  "This is hardly that simple."

  "I don't have time for this to be complicated."

  "Do you… do you feel okay?"

  She slowly and carefully got up off the bed. "I've felt better, that's for damn sure." She eyed herself in the mirror and grimaced, glancing at the bite marks, which had, thanks to the healing balm, already started to heal with a tingling sensation. They still looked like she'd played the raw steak to Malcolm's pit bull, though.

  "You should sit down."

  She sighed at her reflection, which didn't include Quinn's. "I guess I better get used to not looking in mirrors anymore, huh?"

  Quinn made a strangled noise.

  She turned around and raised an eyebrow, feeling grim. "And when should I expect my fangs?

  Tomorrow? Next week?"

  He turned away and walked quickly toward the window to look outside without answering.

  Okay. So she was a vampire. Which blew. But now that it was done, there wasn't much she could do about it, was there? Janie had always tried to roll with the punches, and this one… this was one of the heaviest hits she'd taken.

  No, scratch that.The heaviest hit. She'd never had to reassess her species before.

  Vampire. She shook her head.

  Well, it beat dying, she supposed.

  She glanced at Quinn. Looked like she was handling her new life status a little better than he was. By the looks of him, he was seconds away from throwing himself through the window.

  Of course, he thought being a vampire was the equivalent to being a monster.

  She honestly wasn't sure he was completely wrong about that, but for the time being she felt very normal. Very herself.

  "That son of a bitch stole the Eye," she told him. Perhaps a slight change in subject would be a good thing.

  He shook his head. "He won't go far. He can't."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "I still have the stone."

  She noticed that he held his injured wrist tenderly and frowned at him. "Come here."

  She grabbed the healing balm and applied some to his wound. She was almost out of the stuff. That meant she'd have to go see that witch inNew Orleans who made it. That bitch always made her lick a toad as part of the payment. The toad always seemed to enjoy it a bit too much.

  Were-toad. Had to be.

  "Thank you," he said when she finished, still refusing to look directly at her.

  "How's your stake wound from last night?" she asked, then frowned.

  "It's fine."

  "I should have given you some of this then, but I wasn't thinking straight, I guess."

  "And you are now?"

  "Surprisingly, yes. Now, don't be a baby. Let's see."

  He grudgingly pulled up his shirt and let her apply the balm to his already healing wound.

  "God, I almost forgot all about that evil tree thing scratching your shoulder." She ran her fingers lightly over his ribs and abdomen and then pulled the shirt up even higher, before he pushed her hands away.

  "I need to go." He stood up and turned away from her. "I have to find Malcolm before he gets too far."

  "And what are you going to do when you find him?"

  "Tear him apart with my bare hands."

  "Sounds like a good start. I'll join you."

  "No. You… you stay here. Just rest."

  "I'm already rested enough. Look, we'll find him. I have a right to get my hands on him, too, you know.

  The asshole almost killed me. I don't take kindly to stuff like that."

  He didn't say anything.

  "Quinn—" She grabbed his arm and tried to search his blank expression. "It's really okay. I don't blame you for any of this."

  He nodded with a firm jerk of his head. "Good."

  "We'll get the Eye back. I know you want to make your wish."

  "Forget the stupid wish." He said it so harshly that she cringed. Immediately his expression softened, and he closed the distance between them to touch her face very softly. He stared into her eyes. "I thought I'd lost you."

  "I'm hard to lose."

  "Good to hear." His face was a jumble of emotions that she couldn't read. He pulled back from her and turned away, frowning. "I'm… I'm going to grab the stone and… and we'll go find Malcolm."

  She nodded. "Okay."

  With a last look, Quinn turned and left the room.

  She let out a long breath, feeling very shaky, and she wasn't entirely sure it was from blood loss.

  Okay, so being a vampire doesn't make you a great deal more confident. Then again, she was barely a real vampire yet. She was no more than ava . Maybe avam .

  Maybe the confidence came with time.

  A hundred, maybe two hundred years should do it.

  She glanced at herself in the mirror again.

  He'd saved her. Quinn had saved her life and was now racked with guilt over what he'd done.

  How could she prove to him that she was very, very grateful?

  Quinn was shaking by the time he got back to his room. The stone wasn't there like he'd told her. It was still in his pocket, but he'd needed a few minutes to compose himself before he'd be able to do anything else. He glanced at the clock to see it was nine o'clock. She'd been unconscious for almost an entire hour.

  Too much to think about.

  Shit. He'd just sired Janie. He couldn't believe it.

  He'd sworn that he'd never drink from another person, be they human or vampire. He'd crossed that line. He'd never even imagined he'd cross the next line, that of actually making another vampire.

  She was bound to him now. That's what he'd heard. That sires and their fledglings had a deep bond that could be broken only by death.

  Something stirred deep within him. Knowing that she was bonded to him felt right somehow.

  Why the hell could something so wrong feel so right?

  There was a soft knock at the door behind him, and he spun around to see Janie enter the hotel room.

  "I'm almost ready," he said after clearing his throat. He patted his pocket. "Got the stone."

  She nodded. She'd washed her face, which was now clean of makeup. Brushed her hair until it was long and silky straight. She still wore the red dress, but her heels were gone and she stood in front of him in bare feet, looking painfully beautiful and strong and… andalive .

  His eyes flicked to the neck wound, which was healing faster than he ever thought possible. Damn, what was that healing balm made of?

  Magic.

  He felt at his stomach and could barely tell where Malcolm had pierced him with the stake. He looked down at his wrist, which tingled pleasantly. Just a thin red line left.

  Before too long he could almost forget anything at all had happened.

  "You saved me," Janie said softly. "You saved my life."

  "I don't know if you could call it that."

  "Nobody saves me."

  "I find that hard to believe."

  She shook her head. "Why didn't you let me die?"

  "What?"

  "The way you feel about vampires… I just don't understand why you didn't let me die."

  He didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything.

  She licked her lips. "You said that you'd rather be dead than be a vampire. And yet you'd make me into one that easily? I don't get it."

  "I… I don't know what to say."

  And he didn't. Well, he could tell her the truth, he supposed. Tell her that the thought of losing her—even after being with her for only two days—nearly killed him. And that he knew that there was a chance she
'd hate him for making her into a vampire, but he couldn't let her die because he was madly in love with her.

  Yeah. Something like that.

  "I don't think I properly said thank you," she said.

  "You don't have to."

  "Thank you." She bit her bottom lip and looked down at the carpet.

  "We need to go. Hopefully Barkley and your sister are well out of town by now, but your boss…

  Malcolm… we've got to take care of some things."

  "In a minute." She nodded and turned back to the door, pushing it closed with a click.

  He watched her warily. "What are you doing?"

  She turned back to face him. "Thanking you."

  And then before he could register what was happening, she walked directly toward him until they were almost touching. She reached down and took his right hand, bringing it up to her mouth.

  "Janie," he breathed.

  "Thank you." She kissed his palm—"Thank you"—and then her lips slid over his injured wrist.

  His body stirred, and he felt his heart rate pick up. A lot. Obviously she wasn't thinking properly after her loss of blood.

  She released his hand and pulled at the bottom edge of his shirt, moving it up to reveal what was left of his stake wound again. Before he could protest, she leaned over and ran her tongue over it.

  He gasped, and his brain stopped working. The blood was immediately needed elsewhere.

  "The healing balm tastes like strawberries," she said absently. "Weird."

  "Uhh?" was all he was able to say in reply.

  She drew up to look up into his eyes. His shirt remained raised, baring most of his chest. The front of his pants strained tightly against his arousal.

  "Is that all you have to say?" she asked.

  "Janie—"

  "Yes?"

  He cleared his throat. "I thought you were recovering from your recent diagnosis of vampirism."

  "It's a rumor that fledgling vampires take a long time to recover from being turned. As long as they get what they need from their sire right away, there's no problem."

  "And, believe me, I'm definitely willing to give you anything you need," he managed, trying to sound flippant, but the raspy, husky tone to his words betrayed him "But right now we really need to—"