“Christofer, let me get you a-”
“Run!” he snarled, but that wasn’t what had her stumbling to a stop or struggling to take her next breath.
It was the bright red eyes glaring up at her that froze her on the spot and had her heart racing. This couldn’t be happening, not now, not again. Swallowing back a scream, she staggered back, her eyes never leaving Christofer’s face.
“This can’t be happening,” she mumbled, barely aware that she’d said the words as she continued to stumble back when her mind was screaming at her to run and get the hell out of there.
“Fucking run!” he snapped, giving her a good view of a set of fangs that had her heart pounding in her chest. It also gave her the wakeup call that she needed to make her finally turn around and run away.
Unfortunately, by then it was too late.
Chapter 18
Williams Mansion
“I want a Coke,” Izzy sighed pathetically even as she smiled down at the three little boys curled up next to her on the nursery floor, fast asleep.
Her baby boy, Chris Junior, affectionately known as CJ, was curled up next to her on the soft Winnie the Pooh blanket that Madison had laid out earlier. Madison and Ephraim’s twin boys Deven and Hunter were fast asleep on her other side, curled up next to each other with a plush Eeyore doll between them. A soft snore drew her attention to the corner of the nursery where Marc was fast asleep with little Jessica in his arms.
She really didn’t know what she would do without him. He was such a sweet kid, always helping her, watching after Jessica and the boys without having to be asked. He never complained about Jessica following him everywhere or constantly demanding his attention. No matter what he was doing he would immediately stop when Jessica demanded his attention. It was really sweet….
And something that she needed to put a stop to, soon.
Guilt was tearing Marc apart and no matter what they said or did, he wouldn’t let it go. It wasn’t his fault, none of it was, but he couldn’t see that. He took the blame for her injury, Jessica’s scar, what had happened to Joshua, everything. He spent every minute of the day trying to make up for what happened, exhausting himself to the point that he was making himself sick.
They’d all tried to talk to him, to explain to him that none of it was his fault, but he wouldn’t listen. He thought he’d failed and he was doing everything that he could to make up for it. He was losing weight, had dark circles beneath his eyes and she couldn’t remember the last time that one of the babies had woken up crying, because Marc refused to leave them. They’d barely get the chance to open their mouths to let out a healthy cry and Marc would be there with a bottle and a clean diaper to take care of them and make sure that the adults were able to work and sleep throughout the night, undisturbed.
Ephraim and Chris had banned Marc from the nursery at night, telling him to get some damn sleep, but the kid never listened. As soon as his father and brother went off to patrol the town or had a meeting, he would sneak right back in the nursery. He’d give into Jessica’s demands and snuggle up with her in the rocking chair or on the floor where he would watch over the younger children for the rest of the night.
It was too much for a young child to bear and she was going to put an end to it just as soon as she figured out how to get through to the kid. The problem was, every time that she tried to talk some sense into Marc, he wasn’t able to look past her injury to hear what she was saying to him. Most of the time, it would actually make matters worse. He would get a tormented look on his face when her injury made itself known and storm out of the room, only to double his efforts to make it up to her.
What she wouldn’t give to hear Marc give one of them a smart-ass remark or find him slacking off and playing video games. She would love to see him-
“What the hell?” she murmured when an unexpected chime brought her attention back to the laptop perched on her lap.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she mumbled in disbelief as Tattletale opened a file to the left of the screen and then systematically grabbed every file, image and video that it could match to the image that it had found and grabbed from Facebook less than thirty seconds ago.
She watched in disbelief as old grainy images were posted in documents only to be cleaned up seconds later. Handwritten script and typed documents appeared beneath the pictures in what appeared to be German and a few other languages that she didn’t know. Before she could even consider running the documents through an interpreter program, Tattletale was translating everything in the blink of an eye even as it continued to search the internet, grabbing government documents, personal documents, bank account information, immigration documentation, only to finally end with another chime as it made its last match against the Sentinel blood supply system, letting her know that there was nothing left to find.
Not that she needed anything more, not with this much information. She hadn’t expected to find anything when she’d started her search a few hours ago, mostly because of her father-in-law, who’d never stayed in one area long enough and had constantly changed his name to avoid discovery. She’d assumed that other Pytes would develop the same habits, to keep people from noticing things like the fact that they didn’t age, but apparently there was at least one Pyte who didn’t give a damn about keeping his identity a secret.
Christofer Petersen, better known as, Christofer Herrmann according to the SS file opened on the right side of her screen, didn’t appear to be trying to hide what he was at all, she realized. Swallowing back a curse, she picked up her Sentinel phone and swiped her finger across the screen. A split second later she unlocked the phone with a code, praying that it wasn’t too late.
*-*-*-*
Townson, Massachusetts
“Stop!” Cloe screamed as she struggled to break free, but the bastard wasn’t letting her go.
His arms tightened around her, constricting her breathing to small gasps as she struggled to shove him away, but it was impossible. No matter how hard she tried to push him away, there was no give. The grip that he had around her was suffocating her to the point that each hurried breath her body desperately tried to take in pulled in less oxygen. Black spots were already dancing along the edge of her vision, but she wasn’t sure if that was because of the constrictive hold that he had on her or the blood that she was losing, the blood that he was taking from her.
She hadn’t been given the luxury of confusion or disbelief when he’d attacked her and sank his fangs into her neck. The pain of those sharp teeth tearing through the flesh of her neck hadn’t allowed any delusions. The memories of having her back sliced open all those years ago had also taken over, forcing her to acknowledge what was happening to her.
Christofer was the thing nightmares were made of and right now he was gorging on her blood as she struggled to shove him away, but it was no use. The hold he had on her wasn’t allowing her to shove him away. He had her arms trapped between their bodies and no amount of screaming, scratching, shoving or trying to yank her arms free worked. She used her legs and tried to move, to kick him, knee him, push off the floor to try and shove him away, but she couldn’t move, not with him lying on top of her the way that he was.
“Christofer, stop!” she gasped, struggling in vain to break free from his hold only to have his arms tighten around her to the point that she thought her ribs were going to break and breathing became a thing of the past.
Then it hit her…..
She was about to die.
The realization should have triggered tears, panic, prayers for help, pleading for another chance, making promises to do whatever it took to save herself, but instead all it did was piss her right the hell off. This had to be a fucking joke. After everything that she’d gone through this was really how it was going to end?
She couldn’t believe that she’d survived hell, lost her family, struggled to survive, lived her life always watching over her shoulder, careful about who she let get close to her only to be attacked an
d killed by the only man that she had stupidly allowed herself to believe made her feel safe and protected. It was just so goddamn wrong, her mind registered as she bit down hard on his bare shoulder and dug her nails as far as she could in his chest, needing the action to get through the next few seconds when the bastard violently shook his head, tearing into her throat.
She ignored the agonizing pain, the blood pouring down her throat forcing her to swallow or choke, the bastard on top of her, and the fact that she was going to die. She put every last ounce of energy that she had into biting down harder and digging her nails in as far as they would go, deciding that if she was going to die like this that she would inflict as much damage as she could to the asshole on top of her. Right now she hated him more than anything, even the monsters that had killed her family, because he’d made her feel safe and it had all been a lie, an illusion that she’d foolishly believed when she’d known better.
Now she was paying the price.
Why hadn’t she left the first night when he’d made it more than obvious that he hadn’t wanted her there? She should have just called up the agency, arranged to have someone replace her and found another job. It would have been quick and painless for everyone involved. For any other job she would have done just that, but there was something about Christofer that had grabbed her attention and held it.
At the beginning she’d told herself that she was staying to help Marta, but that had been a lie. She hadn’t stayed because of Marta no matter how much she liked the older woman or how much she wanted to help her. She’d stayed because of the man that she’d met in the pharmacy, the one that had made her smile, eased the fear that ruled her life.
She’d stayed for herself.
She’d been drawn to him from the start-even when he’d been a jerk, she’d still craved being around him. She’d wanted more of it, needed it and she’d been willing to tell herself a thousand and one lies in order to get it. Needing someone, anyone, was dangerous and something that she’d never allowed herself until the day that she’d walked into that pharmacy and sat by a man wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt.
A choked cry escaped her as she felt his teeth tear through her throat. She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut as she used every last ounce of energy that she had to dig her nails further into his skin and bite down harder on his shoulder, hoping, hell praying, that he choked on her blood. If he thought that she was going to go quietly then he was wrong.
She might be quickly fading away, but she wasn’t going to go easily. She was going to keep this up until she passed out or he realized that he was hurting her and released her.
Then she was going to kill him.
She might not have been able to stop the monsters that had killed her family from hurting someone ever again, but if she got the chance, she would do that with this monster. She’d end this here and now if she was given a chance, but as her energy began to drain, her hands trembled and the effort to bite down became too much, she realized that she wasn’t about to get that chance.
Her eyes flickered open as her body went boneless. She stared aimlessly ahead, barely seeing the ceiling hovering several feet above her. The sounds of Christofer growling as well as the sounds of her choppy breaths coming too quickly slowly muted out until all she could hear was a soft humming noise. The pain of having her throat torn open evaporated, leaving her feeling oddly numb and tired.
“Cloe?” the choked whisper drew her attention to the beautiful blue eyes staring down at her in horror. “Oh………God………”
It was funny, she thought as everything slowly faded away, all the times she’d thought about dying and how it would happen, she’d been right.
She’d always been destined to die in the arms of a monster.
Chapter 19
“Don’t fucking die on me, mein Schatz,” he whispered harshly, shifting his attention from the blood soaked towel he had pressed against the side of Cloe’s neck to the alarm clock by his bed.
“Come on……come on!” he growled, waiting impatiently for another minute to go by and when it did, he couldn’t help but sag with relief.
“Thank fucking God,” he mumbled, pressing a quick kiss against Cloe’s cold forehead as he placed her on his bed, gently laying her down as he stood.
She was deathly pale, her heartbeat was sluggish, he’d taken too much blood and her throat had been viciously ripped open, but he couldn’t help but feel relieved. Somehow she’d made it to the ten-minute mark after consuming his blood, something that had never happened before. Whenever he’d been forced to watch as some unsuspecting volunteer received his blood he’d always kept his attention on the large clock hanging on the wall across from his cage, counting down the minutes as he waited for the inevitable to happen.
Before the clock managed to tick off ten minutes, the foolish volunteer who had been lured to his doom with promises of immortality and unimaginable power had been screaming in pain, begging for help and eventually praying for death. While the doctors had stood around, taking notes and clearly frustrated that their plans had failed again, he’d sat in his cage, torn between relief and horror that people reacted so violently to his blood. Those experiments had made it impossible to deny what the doctors had claimed the moment that he’d opened his eyes to find himself locked up in a small metal cage and chained to the bars.
He was a monster.
He was also a freak accident, one that couldn’t seem to be repeated no matter what they tried. The only thing that they’d managed to reproduce was a horrifying death. This time shouldn’t have been any different, but somehow Cloe had managed to escape the violent death that his blood should have delivered.
Not that he was going to complain. She had a chance and he was going to make sure that she took it. He didn’t care what he had to do to make it happen. After rushing to the bathroom to grab a small stack of facecloths, he shoved his keys in his pocket, replaced the blood soaked towel with the small pile of facecloths and gently picked Cloe up. He was careful not to shift the cloths away from her wound that was barely bleeding any longer, not a good sign, but for the moment he ignored the implications and moved his ass.
He headed for the back door, shifted her in his arms and opened the door, praying that he was able to-
“I have your……..,” Seth started to say as soon as Christofer yanked the door open only to let his words trail off as his gaze fell to the bleeding woman in his arms before shifting back up to his face. Seth closed his eyes in resignation and shook his head with a sigh as he murmured, “Please tell me that you really didn’t mark that bitch.”
*-*-*-*
“Whoa!” Seth snapped, holding his hands up in surrender as he backed away quickly only to manage to stumble over the coolers that he’d stacked near the backdoor.
“What did you just call her?” Christofer demanded between clenched teeth as he descended on the bastard, barely aware that the monster inside of him was struggling to take over and rip the vampire’s throat out.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Seth rushed to explain, getting back to his feet and moving to put some distance between them.
“Then what did you mean?” Christofer snapped, moving to go after him when the sound of a small groan drew his attention back to the woman in his arms, reminding him that he had more important matters to deal with than a prick with a death wish.
“Where the hell are you going?” Seth demanded, moving quickly to his side, deciding that a peek at Cloe was worth the risk of having his throat torn out.
“To the hospital,” he gritted out, praying that the precious seconds that he’d just wasted wouldn’t-
“You can’t do that,” Seth snapped, quickly moving in front of him to block his path.
“Watch me,” Christofer said, stepping past the vampire and heading for his truck.
“No,” Seth said, once again blocking his path, his hands held up, but this time to stop Christofer, “I mean you really can’t do that.”
&n
bsp; “She’s dying,” Christofer bit out, losing the tenuous hold he had on his patience as he tried to move past the determined vampire only to once again find his path blocked off.
“Then let her,” Seth said, shooting nervous glances around the poorly lit yard.
Let her die?
Not fucking happening.
He’d been forced to watch a lot of people die over the years and he wasn’t about to add Cloe to their ranks. She deserved better than this and he would do whatever it took to make sure that she got it. He’d royally fucked up, lost control and he’d be damned if Cloe was going to pay for that. He’d promised himself that he was going to take care of her and that was exactly what he was going to-
“She’s been fucking marked!” Seth shouted, placing his hands on Christofer’s arms where they cradled Cloe and shoved him back.
Tall, Silent and Lethal Page 15
