"You won't be here to stop me.” Marsalis’ grin was pure evil. “Dagger, now!"
"No!” Cheyenne's shout came from behind him.
He whirled in time to see her stop, a knife drop from her lax hand, and her eyes go wide. “No..."
"Kieran...” Her legs gave way. “I—” A cough made blood spill from her lips. She collapsed, the blade meant for him still lodged in her back.
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Chapter Thirteen
Marsalis attacked, but Kieran went into a rage. Before the coven leader could take advantage of the distraction, Kieran turned, dropped, and avoided the fatal blow.
Marsalis spun for a counter strike only to collide with Kieran's fist.
A direct and brutal hit to the chest.
Flesh tore. Bones crunched. And Kieran squeezed the pulsating heart.
A shocked look crossed Marsalis’ face.
"Die, you son of a bitch.” With a furious yank, he ripped the bastard's heart out.
Marsalis screamed and clawed at the gaping wound. His heart and body succumbed to the orange, fiery glow, and he crumbled into gray ashes. The only evidence left of his existence remained the whip on the floor.
The war that had once raged throughout the room ceased in that instance with the last stragglers of the coven sent fleeing or to their deaths. Kieran couldn't care less, although he did scan the room for the asshole who threw the knife only to find Tristan wiping off his sword. He looked up and gave him a curt nod.
Kieran collapsed next to Cheyenne and, gritting his teeth, pulled the blade from her back. He then moved to turn her over, but was stopped by two humans, a female and a youth.
"Anne! Oh my, God. No!” The bloodied woman who dropped to the floor beside them must be the sister-in-law. The boy, her son, stood a few feet behind her, staring and crying. His tears joined the blood smears on his face and clothes.
Wounded but alive.
Val was crying, too, and Kieran's heart ached. They didn't acknowledge him at all, which made him feel as if he were an unwanted outsider intruding on the family's private, tragic moment.
He couldn't leave, though. He wouldn't leave her side, not until...
When Val rolled her over, Cheyenne groaned. Kieran's gaze shot to her face. Then he listened, actually concentrated, and heard the faint tap of her heart.
"Anne? You're alive!” Val cradled her head in her lap. “Someone. Please, call 911!"
The pain of his failure overwhelmed Kieran. The humans couldn't hear what he could—the internal bleeding, the struggle of the heart to keep going, the slow, erratic beat.
"What?” Val asked, bending forward to listen. Then, she looked up and straight at him. “Are you Kieran?"
"Yes."
"She wants to speak with you."
He scooted forward, met her teary gaze, and heard the death rattle in her labored breaths. Very gently, he took her from Val and lifted her onto his lap, trying to cause her as little discomfort or pain as possible. He cradled her head and clutched one of her hands in his.
"I'm so sorry,” she said, her voice weak.
Fuck! He wanted to rage at the heavens for letting this happen. The knife was meant for him, not her!
"No. No. Don't,” he said. “You ... Damn it! I failed you. You didn't do anything wrong."
"K-kiss me,” she whispered.
He blinked. She couldn't mean—
He shook his head but heard her words again.
"Kiss me ... before ... I die."
She knew, he realized. It was only a matter of time. Not long.
He stared into her eyes, and the words he'd been too afraid to say burst from his mouth. “I love you."
Her lips lifted in a small smile. She opened her mouth. “I—” She coughed and clamped her eyes shut against the obvious pain.
A tear fell from one of his eyes as he bent to bestow her dying request. He pressed a tender kiss to her bloodied lips.
Her heartbeat skipped, slowed.
He heard it, and his heart broke.
She opened her lips to him, and he swept his tongue inside only to taste her blood, which had filled her mouth. More tears welled in his eyes.
Then she bit him.
He flinched and jerked back.
She'd drawn blood. His blood. He tasted it and stared at her.
Her bold gaze met his. No indecision whatsoever.
And he knew what he had to do, what she wanted him to do. Before it was too late, he pulled her body closer to his, let his fangs lengthen and bit his tongue, allowing the blood to fill his mouth. Then he kissed her again.
He swiped his tongue past her lips to duel with hers as she sucked on his tongue and drank his blood. With each pull of her mouth, each drop of his blood that she drank, her heartbeat thudded until her pulse matched his—strong and steady.
Her arms came up to wrap around him, cling to him, even as he held her tight in a lover's embrace. He kept the kiss going to give her as much of his life force as he could allow.
A loud clearing of a throat and a big hand falling on his shoulder yanked Kieran from the feeding. He lifted his head to see Tristan beside them with Marsalis’ whip coiled in his fist. Kieran looked back at Cheyenne. Her eyes were closed. Her lips slightly parted.
"Is she...?” Val asked, apparently unable to complete the question.
Kieran didn't know whether she asked if Cheyenne was dead or a vampire. Either way the answer was a yes.
He didn't answer, though. Instead, he looked at Tristan. “Get ‘em out of here. Now."
"Wait. No!” Val argued, but Tristan and a few others forced the sister-in-law and nephew from the room. Kieran knew Tristan would ensure they made it home safely. But ... “Stay with them,” he shouted.
At least until ... later.
Kieran watched the last warriors of the Order leave. Some would stand guard out of sight in case members of the coven chose to return. They all knew he was in no condition to fight at the moment, much less move. Not with Cheyenne still in his lap.
She stirred, groaned. He watched her face. Her eyes remained closed. Her lips turned down into a frown, and her brow furrowed.
So it began. The turning.
He embraced her as the first spasms wracked her body. He held on and whispered, “I love you,” while she bucked and moaned and screamed from the excruciating pain of ... death's kiss.
* * * *
When she and Kieran arrived at Val's house early in the morning, the scene was not what she expected. Val's curses could be heard even before the front door opened and the moment it did, it revealed a very handsome, tall, and frustrated vampire who was at his wits end.
"Having problems, Tristan?” Kieran asked.
"Fuck you.” Tristan's response made both of them laugh. “You owe me big time for this, Kieran."
Cheyenne walked into the living room to find Val tied to a chair. Jacob sat nearby on a couch, warily eyeing Tristan, but when he saw her, he jumped up, ran to her, and clamped his arms around her in a hug that made her realize he was stronger than his youth led her to believe.
She hugged him close and slowly made her way across the room to Val's aid. “What is with you men and your penchant for tying up women?” She peeled her nephew off and began loosening the binds around Val's wrists.
Kieran gave her a wink but didn't say a thing.
Tristan answered somewhat defensively, “I caught her and the boy trying to sneak out to go find you. Twice! Aside from harming them, this was the only way to make them stay put."
"He threatened to bite my mom!” Jacob shouted.
"He didn't mean it,” Cheyenne said. She turned to Tristan, who did look rather dangerous in all black with that confiscated whip coiled at his hip. “Did you?"
He rolled his eyes. “I only said it to keep the boy here.” He looked from Kieran to Cheyenne. “What? It worked, didn't it? I let them clean up, change clothes, and I also bandaged their wounds, so I'm not a heartless fiend. They're alive, t
hey're safe, and now they're all yours!"
He headed toward the door, but Kieran stopped him. “Thank you, my friend."
Tristan's gaze fell to Kieran's outstretched hand then lifted once more. They shook hands. “Any time."
The moment Cheyenne finished letting Val go, Jacob gave his mother a hug.
Cheyenne stepped back and felt the comfort of Kieran's arm drape over her shoulders.
Val eyed them with a storm of emotions and a hint of wariness evident on her face. She held her son tight until he began to squirm. “Are you...?"
Worried at how Val would react, Cheyenne nodded. “I am.” Would she kick her out? Refuse to have any more contact with her?
Val's gaze shifted to Kieran. “You better have meant what you said to her last night, because I swear, if you break her heart, I'll find some way to put a stake through yours."
"I'll take good care of her,” he said. His fingers squeezed her shoulder. “You have my word."
Tears welled. Cheyenne smiled and ran to hug her sister-in-law.
When she pulled back, Val asked, “What now?” at the same time Cheyenne said, “Are you both okay?"
The women chuckled, and Val turned into a gracious host by motioning toward the sofa. “Please, have a seat so we can talk."
Kieran first moved to the windows to close the drapes, earning an understanding nod from Val. Then he took a seat next to Cheyenne and put one arm around her, holding her to his side and one of her hands in his lap.
Cheyenne looked at Jacob. He hadn't stopped staring at Kieran since Tristan left and he squirmed out of his mother's embrace. “Jacob, are you all right? Is there anything you want to talk about—what happened last night maybe?” She worried that the teen would be scarred for life after all of the terrifying things he'd witnessed and lived through.
He continued to look at Kieran. “Before he died, Dad told me about vampires, how he had to go out at night to make it safe for me, Mom, and Joey. He told me that murder is wrong, like what happened to my uncle and cousin, but that it's okay to fight when you're protecting your family."
Cheyenne nodded. “Your dad was right. He was a very good, very brave man."
He didn't look away from Kieran. “Are you going to protect us now?"
Kieran's hand tightened on hers, and she knew the question packed an emotional punch. No other welcome of him into their family could've been clearer, more right than that question. Her eyes burned, and she blinked several times to hold back the tears.
"Just until I'm big and strong enough to do it?” the boy added.
"I'd be honored,” Kieran said.
"Good.” Jacob smiled. So did Cheyenne. “Cause I want you to teach me how to fight like you do!” He threw a punch with his fist.
"Jacob!” Val said. “There are more important things for you to learn like math and history and English ... and-and-and science."
"Oh, Mom..."
Kieran chuckled. “No. You're mother's right. To be a good fighter, you first have to be smart up here.” He released her hand and tapped his temple. “The rest you can learn in time...” He paused, but added in response to Val's frown, “When you're old enough to handle it, that is."
"I've decided we're not going to discuss what happened with Joey,” Val said.
"Joey's just a little kid,” Jacob added with all the maturity of a thirteen-year-old. “He don't need to know such things, ‘cause he still believes in the tooth fairy and monsters under the bed."
"Be that as it may, I'd prefer both my boys have as normal a childhood as possible from here on out, especially after what happened last night.” She looked at her son. “And this knowledge of vampires is not to go beyond this house, young man. No begging them to come for show and tell."
Jacob frowned but nodded.
"I am sorry,” Kieran said, “that you both had to suffer through that last night."
"Oh, it was terrifying, but over, thank God. We'll survive..."
Cheyenne struggled to listen as Val explained what had happened to her and Jacob last night, how they'd both been bitten but rescued when their attackers were killed.
Kieran assured them that no ill-effects would occur from having been bitten. No, they wouldn't become vampires or zombies, or any other monster Jacob could envision in his creative mind.
The thirst, which had been a dull but insistent ache, gnawed at Cheyenne the longer she remained around her family—her human family. Although the idea of drinking blood from anyone's neck still gave her the creeps, she already knew the urge would soon become too strong to deny. Kieran had warned her that it was intense for those newly turned.
Except for the blood he'd given her at turning and the few swallows he'd provided upon waking from her ordeal, she hadn't fed.
When she caught herself staring at her sister-in-law's neck, she turned a worried gaze toward Kieran and grabbed his hand. His reaction was immediate. He stood, made their excuses, and promised to return later that evening.
"You don't mind if I leave my bike here, do you? We'll be taking Cheyenne's van for now."
"No, not at all."
"It's a cool bike!” Jacob added, giving up on his attempt at maturity. “Will you take me riding on it sometime?"
"Sure, just not today, okay?” Kieran guided Cheyenne toward the front door.
She vaguely noticed that the luggage was put away and the place had been cleaned up already, but she didn't remark on it. Instead, she stepped out onto the porch and shied away from Val's attempt to hug her goodbye.
Val frowned but then gave her a tight smile and quick nod. She looked at Kieran. “Take care of her."
"I will."
A car door slammed, and Joey darted across the driveway. “Hey, Mom! Hi, Aunt Cheyenne. Who are you?” The car pulled away, the driver giving them a friendly wave.
"Joey, this is a friend of your aunt's, but they were just leaving."
"Aww, but I just got here."
The scent of fresh human blood and the sound of young heartbeats were too much for Cheyenne. As Joey hugged his aunt, she twisted and clung to Kieran.
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Chapter Fourteen
Val pulled Joey away with an apologetic look.
Kieran lifted Cheyenne into his arms, turning her face toward his shoulder. “We really have to go. She's not feeling too well, but we'll see you tonight."
They quickly made their way into the van, and Kieran ordered her into the back while he took her keys and got in the driver's seat.
"Get under the covers,” he said as he cranked the engine then pulled out of the driveway. “But first, dig my sunglasses out of my jacket.” She tossed them to him and dove under the sheet. He put them on, thankful for the dark tint's added protection.
"I told you this might happen,” he said, earning a grunt from the lump under the covers.
He'd fed just before sunup—thanks to the vamp from the Order who'd made a stop along the way as he drove them to Val's house. Kieran figured a little replenishment would do him good after giving so much to Cheyenne. She should've fed then, too, but at the time, she was still too weak and queasy from the turning.
He'd known the hunger would intensify, though, especially if she didn't sleep, and it did.
"You should've let me take you to my place first.” The first twenty four hours after a turning was the most potent time for a vampire, and he'd wanted her to go through it in a safe environment. The thirst for blood would become great, but so would her other senses once they began to heighten to vampiric levels. Judging by Cheyenne's current condition, the final phase of her transition had begun.
"I had to make sure they were okay. Besides, I'm not...” Her words drifted off into a mumbled sound he couldn't understand.
He risked a ticket by speeding once he turned out of the neighborhood and onto a straight stretch of highway. “What was that?"
"I'm not ready to go to your place."
That surprised him. “Why?” When she didn't re
spond, he repeated the question.
"Look, I just don't think I can sleep in a coffin. Okay?"
A coffin? She would experience a lot of new things as a vampire, but sleeping in a coffin wasn't one of them.
"I know I'm a vampire, and it's expected of me. I know I'm supposed to bite people's necks.” She didn't sound too thrilled by the idea. “Don't be mad, please. It's not like I don't have time to learn. It's just that I've been human for a lot longer than I've been a vampire. This is all new to me."
He tossed a glance over his shoulder, realized she was serious, and decided to tease her a bit.
"I'm not mad. I understand, but you should know coffins are so comfortable with all that padding and soft materials. You don't have to sleep in a used one. You might like that new-coffin smell.” He took a deep breath and sighed loudly.
She whimpered.
He grinned but didn't look back. “And when the lid's down, it's so quiet and peaceful."
"I'm claustrophobic!"
He bit his lip to keep from laughing. He shouldn't tease her so, but she was so damn adorable when riled up over something, he couldn't resist. When he thought he could keep his humor out of his voice, he said, “A claustrophobic vampire. That is a problem, but don't worry, my dear. You're not alone. When it's time to sleep, we'll get through the day together."
She moaned and wiggled around on the mattress under the covers.
"I'm so thirsty."
His good humor fled. “I know, chére. Hang in there. It's not much farther."
He navigated the traffic as fast as possible and briefly considered stopping by the morgue since it was closer. An IV of her own blood type would curb her hunger, but he scratched the idea when he checked the time and realized that his contact there had gotten off the graveyard shift already.
Besides, his fledging needed to overcome her hang-ups and learn to feed properly—fang to flesh. No vampire could survive on recycled blood from a bag forever. He knew she wasn't looking forward to her first real feeding, was squeamish at the idea of approaching strangers to bite them on the neck, which is why he'd been toying with an alternative possibility.
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