Lucian turned his back to Christian as he sheltered her against his chest. He cried out against her ear. His arms tightened around her almost painfully but he didn’t release her.
“Christian,” she cried. “Stop. Stop!”
Silence met her words. No snarls, no hisses. Not even a birdcall in the nearby trees.
Lucian slumped to his knees, his arms still around her. She twisted in his embrace to see what had happened and gasped.
His back was in shreds. Claws had ripped the flesh so deeply she could see bone. Blood matted his shirt to his skin before dripping into the dirt beneath them.
“What did you do?” she whispered, looking up at Christian.
He looked as shocked as she felt. “I thought he’d defend himself. I shouldn’t have been able to touch him.”
“He was protecting me,” she cried. “Something you didn’t seem too interested in doing.”
He tried to explain himself. “When the wolf rises, I can’t control it.”
“Leave,” she ordered him. “Get out of here. You’ve done enough damage.”
“Abbey—”
“I want you gone!”
Christian looked at his bloody hands, then back to her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
In a flash, he was gone. Leaving her alone with a heavily bleeding vampire.
“Lucian?” she whispered, cupping his face. “Lucian, talk to me.”
His head lolled against her shoulder.
“Dammit,” she muttered. What the hell was she supposed to do? She could go to the bar but she knew Lucian would want that route avoided at all costs. His reputation was everything and being this severely injured was something he’d want kept quiet. Which left her with few options.
“I’ll be back,” she whispered, laying him down.
She ran to the street and hailed the first taxi she saw. When the yellow cab pulled up, she handed him a fifty. “I’ll give you another if you help me take my friend home. He’s extremely drunk.”
The cabbie’s eyes fixed on her wallet. “Don’t let him barf in the cab.”
“Great. Thank you. I’ll just be a minute.”
She raced back to Lucian, tearing off the black overshirt she’d worn with her dress. Carefully she wrapped it around his back to hide his injuries. As long as he didn’t bleed all over the place, no one would ever know.
“You have to walk,” she said. “I can’t carry you by myself. Please, Lucian. I’ll take you someplace safe but you have to help me.”
With a groan, he pushed to his feet.
Abbey supported him, careful of his back. Together, they managed to stumble to the cab and get Lucian in the backseat.
She jumped in with him and gave the cabbie her address. It was far closer than Lucian’s East Side apartment.
“Stay with me,” she whispered as the city streaked by the window. “Lucian, don’t you leave me. Not ever.”
Chapter Twelve
Something smelled wonderful.
Lucian groaned, feeling like his limbs were moving through sludge. Fire burned on his back, making it impossible to roll over.
“Shh,” a soothing voice whispered. “You’re safe, I swear.”
Blearily he forced his lids to open.
For a strange moment, the world didn’t focus. When it did, he saw the loveliest sight he’d seen in days.
Abbey leaned over him, a cloth in her hand.
“Abbey,” he whispered, his lids threatening to close again.
“Hey. You can’t sleep yet. Christian did a number on you.”
His lips curled in a silent snarl. The werewolf. He remembered the claws striking toward Abbey. He’d shielded her and the wolf had pressed his advantage.
Grimacing, Lucian realized his back must be shredded meat right now. There wasn’t an ounce of mercy in the man Abbey had been with tonight.
Even with the pain, he didn’t regret his actions. Abbey had been courageous enough to do whatever she thought necessary to stop them. And he’d protect her until his last breath.
“Blood,” he whispered, trying to convey was what crucial to his survival. “Need.”
“I know.” Her voice was soft. “Let me help.”
The intoxicating smell drifted to his nostrils again. What was it? The scent was like sunshine and sex. Never before had he encountered anything so beautiful.
“Drink.”
His eyes flickered open again to focus on the red stain hanging before him. When his brain processed what he was seeing, rage flooded him. She wasn’t allowed to be hurt. Not ever.
“Stop,” she said as he tried to rise. “You saved me tonight. Let me repay the favor.”
Blood dripped from her wrist as she held it out to him. He didn’t know what she’d found to cut herself with but the wound was jagged. Not at all the clean punctures he would have made had she offered this luxury in any other circumstance.
“No,” he said.
“Hush, now.” A soft hand smoothed over his brow and he closed his eyes in pleasure at the simple touch. “Drink from me.”
The damaged wrist was placed against his mouth. A drop of her blood made it past his clenched lips and Lucian nearly howled with pleasure. Had he ever tasted anything as delectable as her?
“Please,” she said when he didn’t move, despite the fact that his restraint was killing him.
There was silence for a moment before she asked, “Is not even my blood good enough for you?”
Her voice broke and he had no defense against the painful sound. Unable to fight any longer, he parted his lips.
Nectar filled his mouth. He swallowed it down, feeling as if he’d just ingested liquid lightning. Her blood electrified every nerve in his body. One sip and already he felt his body absorbing the nutrients repairing his back. What would more of that delicious blood accomplish?
The beast within him took over, banishing his conscience, which begged him to spare Abbey. Instead the vampire rose and took what his body needed.
Fangs sank into her fragile wrist and he heard her gasp in pain. Blood filled his mouth and he drank greedily. Dimly he realized he was making a mistake. If he was stronger, he could make the bite pleasurable for her. But right now, it was about survival.
Mouthful after sizzling mouthful drained down his throat. The pain in his back vanished. Still he drank, unable to break away from the tastiest blood he’d ever experienced.
“Lucian,” a voice whispered. A voice he knew. One he cared for. “You’re hurting me.”
That couldn’t happen. Not ever. Immediately his fangs retracted and the woman bending over him fell away.
He blinked, feeling like he was intoxicated. Pushing himself up caused no immobilizing spasms of pain. He was completely healed with only a few mouthfuls of blood. Abbey was unlike any woman he’d ever met.
And she was currently crouched on the floor by the bed, cradling her wrist.
“Let me help,” he murmured, sliding from the bed.
She moved back, obviously not wanting to let him close.
“Trust me, Abbey. I can make it better.”
Wide green eyes looked up into his. He saw the distrust there and knew he’d earned it. But he waited, giving her the choice.
Slowly she held her hand out to him. When he brought it to his mouth, she stiffened.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered against her flesh. “I can heal as well as hurt.”
He cut his tongue with a fang and pressed the blood to her wound. There were few injuries vampire blood couldn’t fix.
The small punctures vanished the moment he drew his tongue over them. Abbey’s breathing evened out as the pain left her body.
“Thanks,” she said, pulling her hand away from him. “Neat trick.”
“Thank you,” he replied. “You healed me.”
“You saved me.” She looked down. “I really thought Christian would stop.”
That went to show what she knew about a man’s character. “I don’t regret protecting you.
”
Her expressive eyes flickered up to his and then away. “Well, I figure we’re even with me feeding you and all. Though I have to say, you lied when we first met. You told me your bite brought pleasure and not pain.”
So he had. “Next time,” he said, touching her thigh, “it will be different.”
“Sure.” She looked away.
He leaned closer, unwilling to let her retreat. “I was half out of my mind. You can’t hold it against me. But next time,” he leaned closer to brush his lips over the pulse in her throat, “when you trust me to, I’ll make my bite better than any orgasm I’ve ever given you.”
He heard her swift inhale. “Maybe I’ve had better from someone else,” she said.
A grin stretched his lips. “I doubt it.”
The blush staining her cheeks confirmed his hunch. Oh yes, he would be the best she’d ever had.
And the last.
…
Abbey looked down at her wrist. The skin was clear. Not a blemish on it to explain the acid in her veins she’d felt at his bite. Her clients might wax poetically about a vampire’s fangs but one thing was for sure: she’d be dead and cold before she put herself through that again.
At least her sacrifice hadn’t been for nothing. Lucian’s back had been in shreds when they’d stumbled through the door, and now his skin was perfect. That was vampires for you. Add a little blood and they could rebound from anything.
“You’re okay now,” she said. “You can leave.”
“That’s the last thing I’m going to do.”
She didn’t want to look at the man by her side. The last hour had been about keeping him alive, nothing else. But now he was healed and in her domain.
An opportunity Lucian wasn’t about to let slide.
He pushed to his feet to explore her bedroom. She was suddenly conscious of the bra hanging on the closet doorknob and the makeup scattered across her vintage vanity table. Her queen-size bed was decked out in its handmade multicolored quilt that she’d bargained for at the farmer’s market. She silently groaned as she took in her neon-orange walls that she just knew he’d hate. Nothing was put away, not the piles of paperbacks by her bed or the mismatched outfits strewn over her dresser. She was one of those people who would forget what she owned if she didn’t see it out.
Lucian glanced back at her, one brow arched, before leaving her bedroom to explore the rest of her tiny home.
Abbey pushed herself to her feet in order to follow him.
“It’s not the Upper East Side,” she said, leaning against the doorjamb.
“No,” he said. “This is not what I expected.”
She looked around her living room and tried to see it through his eyes. The explosion of color, the chaotic taste. The pink couch had been a throwaway by the side of the road that she’d convinced Chloe to help her carry up here. Two armchairs in opposite corners of the living room were stuffed with cushions. A small screen door to her right led to her balcony. Her kitchen opened into the living room, and since she was a takeout kind of girl, condiments and dirty chopsticks littered the counter. Nothing about her home was organized or tidy.
“I told you we weren’t a good match.”
Lucian turned back to her, looking completely out of place standing in the middle of her decorative home.
“Not a good match,” he agreed. “We don’t have the ratings you have with Christian. Or I have with Fiona.”
She flinched at the reminder. “I know that.”
“And yet, do you remember what I said when we first met? How your computer system can’t calculate the feeling of seeing a woman across a crowded bar and knowing she’s yours?”
Abbey looked at him, knowing he paraphrased. He’d claimed nothing could replace the experience of seeing one’s mate across a bar, not merely a woman one wanted to screw.
But right now, she let the slip pass. They weren’t mates. Someday Lucian would find his perfect match and it would be someone refined and elegant.
Right now, however, he was hers. He’d been searching for a millennium for his mate with no luck. Claudette hadn’t bemoaned the fact that he didn’t love her as she’d dreamed when they’d made a life together. Abbey felt as if she was bowing out in a contest that might not be decided for a dozen generations.
“I’m not yours,” she said, moving toward him. “You’ve shown me how little you respect human lovers.”
His eyes darkened with regret. “We all make mistakes.”
“Not you. Everything you told me in the car was true. We aren’t meant to go the distance.”
“You, more than any other woman, have consumed my thoughts.”
“Really?” she asked, knowing she was pushing but she needed to know. “More than Claudette?”
Lucian froze. Not the way a human went still. When Lucian stopped moving, he was like a statue. No breath filled him, no life. He was as inhuman as she’d ever seen him.
“Melissa,” he murmured. “Telling tales.”
“Yes.”
His blue gaze locked on hers. “You never said anything. That last night.”
“Your old flame was of no interest to me then.”
“But she is now?”
She drew a deep breath. “This can go two ways, Lucian. You can leave and we’ll go back to the way we were this past week. You with your partners and I with mine.”
“Or door number two?”
She hesitated. The words she spoke next might very well decide her future, for good or ill. How much did she want to gamble on him?
What a silly thought. When it came to Lucian, she’d proven more than once that she was all in.
“You tell me the truth about your past,” she said. “And we take it from there.”
“You’re not asking for forever?” He took a step closer to her.
“You’re not offering it.” The knowledge still stung but she’d lived without him. It wasn’t a proposition she cared to repeat if she could help it.
“All you ask for is knowledge about Claudette. About my past.”
She stood strong, not letting his reticence get to her.
“All right. I agree to your terms.” He settled down into her overstuffed fuchsia armchair.
Lucian open to her questions? The thought was heady. Better press her advantage before she lost it.
“How many times have you been in love?”
Lucian sighed but didn’t look away. “Once, or so I thought. But Claudette had other ideas.”
“What do you mean?”
He spread his hands out. “She didn’t believe I loved her. And in all honesty, she may have been right.”
“How did you meet?” She drifted closer to the armchair.
Lucian smiled. “I was just passing through. Nothing more dramatic than that. Claudette was a barmaid in her father’s inn. She had a small child, you see. Melissa. The offspring of her first marriage. As a widow, she’d returned home and sought shelter with her family.”
“And you were, what? Drawn to her?”
The look on his face as he recalled old memories was almost enough to make her stop her questions. “No,” he said. “The inn was crowded and I didn’t even notice her.”
Seeing your mate across a crowded room and knowing she’s yours. His words echoed through her head. He hadn’t seen Claudette, but he’d spent a lifetime with her anyway.
“I never knew she existed until she dropped a bowl of stew in my lap.” Lucian grinned at the memory. “He father was a bit of a skinflint and hadn’t hired help. She was trying to do too much and ended up attracting a vampire’s attention.”
“Did she know what you were?”
“No.” His smile turned bittersweet. “I courted her for months, thinking I’d hidden my true identity. Almost a thousand years I’ve lived and one little human unraveled me. She knew, you see, what I was. But the men in her life hadn’t done well by her. She must have thought a monster couldn’t be any worse.”
“That’s not it,”
she said, stepping closer. “She simply didn’t care what you were because you proved to be worthy of her love.”
His gaze flickered to hers. “We’ll never know.”
“She sounds like a remarkable woman.”
“In every way.”
Lucian didn’t move and she was helpless to do anything but drift closer to him. She wanted to hear every detail of her rival, a woman who had lived and died over a century ago.
“Claudette was fond of telling me I didn’t understand humans half as well as I thought I did.”
“Smart woman,” she muttered.
He inclined his head. “I took her away with me, her and Melissa. They lived on my estate for over a decade.”
“Until the accident.”
His laugh was bitter. “Melissa and her mouth.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “You let a human close to you once. Why am I so different?”
Lucian reached out and caught her hands, pulling her close. “When Claudette died, I wanted to die with her.”
The confession was stark. She had no idea how to respond.
“I think I would have if not for Melissa. I wouldn’t leave our child alone. She might not have been mine biologically but she was mine in every way that mattered. Claudette made me promise to take care of her and I’ve tried to keep that vow.”
“Even now,” she said, “a hundred years later when she wants to try a dating service.”
“One that will parade her like a prized cow at the county fair. Look what Vivian has done with me. Melissa is still young and romantic. I don’t want her disillusioned for someone else’s profit.”
“You’re a good father.”
“Claudette said the same.” Lucian shook his head. “I could be what Melissa needed but not what her mother deserved.”
“Two different types of love.”
His thumbs brushed circles into her palms. “I wanted to love her. I did as much as I was able.”
“But she was human,” Abbey said, her heart breaking. “And you can never care for a mortal.”
“No.” He stood, drawing her closer. “That’s not what I am trying to say.”
She touched her palm to his cheek. “I know. But let’s call a spade a spade. You won’t ever love me because my years are numbered in decades instead of centuries.”
Love at Stake (Entangled Covet) Page 15