Drawing Deep

by Jennifer Dellerman

  A slow blink. “That’s unexpected, and considerate.”

  Yeah, it was. Which caused even more of her preconceived beliefs of shifters to come tumbling down. “It really is. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

  Chris didn’t attempt to touch her as she walked past or say anything beyond, “Drive safe.”

  Maybe he was finally getting the idea she wanted nothing to do with him on a romantic level. Wouldn’t that be fabulous? Of course she’d still have to deal with his attitude, which wasn’t exactly serene.

  As she climbed into the SUV and headed for the airport, she realized that none of that mattered. She couldn’t possibly return to her life as she knew it, not with her daddy dearest gunning for her.

  Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she tried to figure out her options.

  There weren’t many. She might have her passport on her, but without a job, her money would dwindle within months. Then add in the time and energy to find a blood supplier in a foreign country?

  She clearly remembered those early days when she’d run from home, how sick she felt without enough blood, living on the streets until Dax had found her.

  Dax. Maybe she could finagle a way to stay at the Orchards past Chris’s deadline. As he wouldn’t be there, he wouldn’t really know if she found something worthwhile or not. She’d have to get Lance to lie for her, but even as she drove on, a wicked smile curled her lips. He just might do it, especially as it would give him more time with his sister.

  Getting to the airport was pretty straightforward, until she drove right past the large sign depicting an airplane and a right-hand arrow. Grumbling to herself, Ria made a u-turn. She decided to park the SUV at the far end of the lot and away from any other vehicles, with the idea of privacy while she checked her blood supply.

  Following the signs to baggage claim, she entered a room that contained enough lost luggage it looked like a retail store. Already knowing the drill, she walked down makeshift aisles, giving a sigh of relief when she spotted her container. Two bags down was Chris’s. Strapping her purse across her torso, she picked up her boss’s bag and then slid up the handle on hers, rolling it along the floor to the front of the room where a young man behind the counter assisted a harried older gentleman.

  After what felt like forever, it was her turn. She made small talk while the kid simultaneously checked her claim tickets against the bags and ogled her breasts. She might have thought him talented, except her eyes fell onto the pulse on his throat and she could almost feel her brain freezing up.

  The rapid beating looked...inviting.

  Oh, God. She was worse off then she thought. No wonder she’d been so cranky, couldn’t remember Sarah’s name and had driven right past the turn-off for the airport. She needed to refuel.

  “You need any help taking these out?” His grin was charmingly sweet, but Ria needed to get gone before she did something she would regret.

  “No, I’m good thank you.” Beating a hasty retreat, she headed for the restroom right next to baggage claim. Finding it empty, she went into the largest stall, wasting no time in unlocking her case and pulling out the various smaller containers to reach the false bottom. That thin piece she set on top of the toilet.

  She blinked. “Why’s the light off?” Dread filling her chest, she flicked the small switch hidden by the false bottom, and watched with a mix of relief and horror as the light turned on. She twisted the odd circle at one end until it popped up, giving her a hand hold to lift the top on silent hinges and reveal several bags of blood. Blood that had been sitting, unrefrigerated, for God knew how long.

  Picking up one of the bags, it only took a small slash of the scissors that were stashed with the rest of her tools to realize the blood was bad.

  She slid down the wall, coming to a hard landing on her butt.

  She’d forgotten to turn the cooler on.

  Her head thumped against the tile wall as her eyes filled with tears of frustration at her predicament. She couldn’t mesmerize anyone. She had to take from a willing or sleeping donor.

  Shit, shit, shit. How could she have forgotten something so vital?

  She had no idea how long she sat on the cold floor when her stomach cramped up. She was entering the danger zone, and as retched as it made her feel, she had no choice but to pay Lance a visit tonight.

  Ignoring the guilt she felt at that thought, she stood and began to carefully cut open each bag, dumping the contents down the toilet. After wrapping the plastic in toilet paper, she disposed of them in the flip out trash normally used for feminine hygiene products.

  It worked for her.

  Once she’d repacked her case, she straightened her shoulders and made her way back out to the SUV. Five minutes later she slammed the rear door after stowing the luggage in the cargo area and walked to the driver’s door.

  Maybe if she hadn’t been so blood hungry she would have been more aware of her surroundings. Instead, it wasn’t until someone wrapped a strong, male arm around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, that she realized something was wrong. The cold bite of steel at her throat was the second clue.

  “Scream and I’ll cut your throat.”

  As the tip of the blade was already piercing her flesh, she believed him. She knew she should be terrified, and a part of her held some fear. But she’d lived through worse, and frankly, she was stronger than the asshole who held her. Unless he was a vampire or shifter. Then she was in trouble.

  Not resisting, she allowed herself to be led to a white van parked next to her. One that hadn’t been there when she’d arrived.

  At least she was almost sure it hadn’t been there.

  Evidently the attack had been planned, as a male arm reached in front of her and slid the side door back. It hadn’t been shut all the way.

  “You’re being very agreeable. I like it.”

  Ria gritted her teeth. “You have a knife to my throat. Not like I have a choice here.” And didn’t that just piss her off. Not only was some male taking away her choice and manhandling her, he was causing her to lose precious blood. She could feel the warm slide of it down her throat.

  A chuckle that only made her angrier. “Get in.”

  Carefully, so the knife would cause no more damage, she entered the van, the man quite literally glued to her backside. The arm around her waist disappeared for a split second so he could slam the door shut. Far long enough for her to turn around and smash his nose into his brain, if the jolt hadn’t caused the blade to push in her tender flesh a little more.

  Now she wasn’t just losing red, she was seeing red.

  “Scared?” The man taunted, obviously feeling powerful with the ease he took her.

  “Terrified.”

  “Yeah? You don’t sound it.” His lips brushed her ears and it was all she could do to hide a shudder of revulsion. But with his breath so close to her nose, she took a giant sniff. Human. “But I’ll change that. No one told me I couldn’t have a little fun first.”

  Her brows knit. “What?”

  Spinning her around, he kicked her legs from under her, falling with and on top of her, never losing his grip on the knife. Plain brown eyes that blazed with lust stared into her own. “Someone wants to talk to you, but first I’m gonna fuck you until you beg for mercy.”

  A blinding rage gripped her with its talons, narrowing her vision into pinpoints. Her fangs slide from her gums, sharp and deadly. Her eyes must have started to turn black as well, because the man tilted his head in confusion, not realizing just what he’d taken by force. “I haven’t begged since I was five.” With that guttural remark, she lifted her head from the van’s floor, heedless of the way the knife dug further into her neck, and struck, sinking her fangs deep into the man’s carotid artery, paralyzing him even as his blood began to flow eagerly into her parched system.

  She might not be able to mesmerize her prey, but her fangs were as thin as needles and delivered a paralytic effect to both the body and brain. When she pier
ced right where a certain nerve was located, it also caused her victim to pass out after several seconds. Which was how she could keep a sleeping donor asleep. They’d wake a little achy, might remember something, but pass it off as a weird dream.

  But this man didn’t deserve any consideration from Ria. He’d kidnapped her, threatened her, cut her and frankly just pissed her off. And because he drew first blood, she made him bleed.

  A lot.

  Chapter Ten

  Ria pulled neatly into an open slot in the parking lot of the bed-and-breakfast more with luck then skill and attention to detail. Habit had her shifting the gear into park rather than the desire to exit the vehicle. After unclicking the seat belt she’d fastened in habit as well, she laid her hands in her lap and stared out the windshield.

  She’d made it back in one piece, which, she realized now, was a miracle. She could have caused an accident, or ended up in New York, because she hadn’t been thinking of the traffic, pedestrians or which road to take back to the Felix household. No, she’d been on autopilot the entire way. Her body felt strange, not a part of herself, her head light.

  Ingesting too much blood made her feel drunk, high, the sensations exacerbating with every unneeded drop. It wasn’t an uncommon phenomena. Like alcoholics, some vampires craved and took more than what was needed to survive. They were after that high, that inhibition and sense of immortality. It was something Ria never did, terrified of what she might do, or, worse, have done to her in such an inebriated state.

  As the blood high started to fade, shock at what had happened – the loss of her bagged blood, being attacked and her own vicious retribution – began to set in. She didn’t see the beautiful house in front of her, or the thick, green hedges rioting with dozens of tiny white flowers that framed that house.

  She saw nothing, was nothing. She simply floated.

  Which was probably why when someone rapped on the driver’s window she let out a piercing scream.

  “Hey.” Santos lifted his hands up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You’ve been sitting there for awhile. Are you okay?”

  She would be eventually, but she couldn’t discount that the sight of him, standing there all big and strong – and suddenly so very safe – made her want to tear up in relief. When she only continued to sit there, staring at him, his faced creased into lines of concern. He reached for the door handle, only to find it locked. “Open the door, Ria.”

  Acting on his bidding, she dropped the hand she hadn’t known she’d curved around her throat when she’d screamed, and a red smear on her palm caught her eye. “I’m still bleeding.”

  A moment of silence passed before Santos said in a low, slow tone, “Open the door right now, Ria, before I rip it off its fucking hinges.”

  Her eyes jerked back to his, to see they’d gone cold and flat, yet fire snapped in the twin depths. Fire and determination.

  As a shifter, he could do it too, she thought, and probably would. Then Chris would be pissed.

  Her boss would also have a fit if she got blood on anything. A vague memory of cleaning up some and donning her jacket to cover the blood which had dripped onto her shirt seeped into her mind. Cleanliness suddenly a priority, she reached up and snatched a tissue from the little plastic container on the passenger side visor to wipe the blood off her hand.

  “Now, Ria.”

  As soon as the lock snicked open, Santos wrenched the door wide. “What happened?”

  Strangely numb, Ria switched off the engine that was still running and picked up her purse, placing the keys inside. “Our luggage came in. Chris sent me to go pick them up.”

  She moved to get out, but Santos blocked her way. “Why is your neck bleeding?” He slid aside the edge of her jacket and sucked in a breath. “Jesus Christ, woman. There’s blood all over your shirt.”

  She dropped her gaze to see what he was talking about. Dried blood coated the top left side of her shirt. A resigned sigh escaped. “Damn. I liked this top.”

  Though the wound barely bled, the skin slowly knitting back together, there was no hiding the fact something bad had happened.

  Santos reached out a finger and lifted her chin up and over to peer at her neck. “What. Happened?”

  “Nothing.” A muttered response.

  His chest rumbled with a low growl, his nostrils flaring wide. “It looks as if you’ve got more blood on the outside of your body than inside. That’s not nothing. Try again.”

  She wanted to giggle at that, but even through the remaining haze of her blood high she recognized something in his face that warned her she better not lie. “Some guy attacked me at the airport.”

  “What?”

  Though he hadn’t yelled, steam seemed to come out his ears and something akin to an electrical storm caused the tiny hairs on her body to stand to attention. Power and heat lashed at her senses. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. A greenish-yellow ring sprung up at the outer edges of his irises and began to blast through the brown depths. It was fascinating, and terribly unsettling.

  She gulped. “At the airport. After I put the luggage in the back. I was walking to the driver’s door and some guy pulled a knife and tried to drag me into a van parked next to me.”

  The muscles in his jaw bunched. “You parked next to a van?”

  Her eyes narrowed at his tone, her uncertainty falling away at the accusation. So like a man to blame the woman. “It wasn’t there when I parked. I’m not an idiot, and don’t you dare put the blame on me.” No way was she going to tell him she’d parked in the farthest lot. While it had seemed like a good idea at the time, she now understood it might not have been the smartest.

  His chest heaved as he blew out a breath, visibly reaching for control. “I’m not blaming you. I’m pissed off at what happened and doubly pissed at your boss for sending you there by yourself.”

  Ria shrugged. “Lance and Robby offered to go, but I needed them elsewhere. Besides, I’m a big girl.”

  “You were attacked!” So much for control. Fury blazed in his eyes.

  “I got away, didn’t I?” Belligerent to the end, that was Ria.

  “Fuck!” Despite the rage on his face, his hand was surprisingly gentle as he cupped her face and leaned in close. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  Ria understood the question for what it was, and was thankful that, because of what she was, the damage done to her wasn’t worse. “No. I managed to knee him and get away.” After she’d had a snack of course. Well, more like a four-course meal. She’d needed to take enough to cover not only the blood lost when the knife at nicked her vein, but enough to heal the wound and replace what she’d used in the last several days simply by being. No need to tell Santos that. She didn’t want to see all that brilliant anger for her sake die a quick death.

  “Good girl. Did you call the police?”

  She had to fight the desire to lean into his touch. Let him care for her. “No. I just left.”

  His lips thinned, but he didn’t berate her again. “Can you walk?”

  She frowned at him. “Of course I can walk. I drove back here, didn’t I?”

  Muttering something under his breath, he helped her out of the SUV, keeping his hand clasped around hers and slammed the door shut. “Come on.”

  “I can make it to my room on my own you know.”

  “You’re not going to your room. You’re going to see my mother.” He was already pressing buttons on his phone.

  Ria dug in her heels, forcing him to turn and look at her. “No. There’s no need. I’m fine. Really.”

  Though the foreign color had receded from his eyes, they narrowed into slits. “The wound seems to be clotting, but it sme...seems like you’ve lost a lot of blood. I’m not taking any chances.” When she opened her mouth he added darkly, “Do not argue.”

  “But...”

  Her protest was cut off when he barked in his phone. “Ria was attacked at the airport. She’s dazed, lost a lot of blood, but coherent.” A slight pause before he s
imply hung up and clipped the device back on his belt. “Kitchen. Now.”

  “The luggage...”

  “Can damn well wait until you’re taken care of!”

  Blinking at his back, she frowned. “Do you always cuss this much?”

  Santos stopped so suddenly she bumped into his back. He turned and brought his face so close to hers that as he spoke, his breath whispered over her lips. “You were attacked. Hurt. That and the sight of your blood is pissing me off. I cuss when I’m pissed. Deal with it.”

  Her lips turned down. Now that the high was wearing off, her neck was beginning to throb and her body to shiver. “I already told you...”

  Rattling the hell out of her, Santos shifted slightly and pressed his mouth to hers. Heat exploded deep inside, chasing the chill from her flesh, and her eyes fell shut. It was a showing of dominance, no doubt about it, but when her lips trembled, his softened, opening slightly so he could sip at her mouth. Far too soon he pulled back. “Let someone else take care of you for a little while. Okay?”

  That idea had some merit, especially as her bones had melted, and that from a simple lip-lock. No tongue required. Eyes wary, she nodded in silence.

  He looked at her a moment, that tiny, almost smile twitching his lips. “Now I know.”

  She was afraid to ask. “Know what?”

  “How to shut you up.”

  She had enough of her wits about her to glare in feminine outrage at the smug satisfaction on his face. But honestly, she’d gab until she was hoarse for another one of those kisses.

  Not that she’d tell him that.

  Thinking more of kisses rather than where he was guiding her, she licked her lips, seeking his all to brief taste, and wanting another.