"I am famished," Pietro said quietly. His gaze traveled down to the table.
Mack visibly swallowed before jostling out of his jacket. Rolling up his sleeve, he laid out his arm across the table. Bracing himself for the first sting of pain, he didn’t have to wait long. Pietro leaned forward, his fangs biting into the flesh offered him. Mack turned his gaze away, staring at the stage. His jaw hardened at the feel of cold fingers wrapping around his forearm. He felt teeth moving within him, lips sucking the fresh wound.
Soon it was over. Pietro didn’t bother to stay around. Within a blink he was gone. Mack grimaced, reaching to a nearby table to grab a napkin. He pushed it to his opened wound and bent his elbow to apply pressure. Glancing around to make sure no one saw the interaction, he waved a waitress for a drink.
Soon, he thought. Soon it will be all over. And I’ll finally be free.
Chapter Six
New York City, New York
Rick sighed nervously, laying Jaden down gently on his bed. Drawing his hands out from underneath her unmoving body, he tenderly pushed the hair back from her face. Her head rolled to the side, limp. He maneuvered it back onto the pillow.
"Don’t worry, Jade," he whispered softly as he adjusted her limbs. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he talked anyway. "You’ll be safe here. I’ll keep you safe."
Rick watched her face carefully, hearing the even fall of her breath. The sound was only outdone by the loud hum of the refrigerator coming from the other room.
There were no windows in his bedroom. A single thread of light made its way from a lamp in his living room, giving her pale cheek a soft glow. Taking a quilt from the end of his bed, he covered her up and tucked the edges around her slender frame. Still she didn’t move.
Rick let loose a deep breath as he touched her motionless cheek one last time. The longing he felt for her welled inside his chest. He’d loved her for a long time and part of him believed that if he just waited long enough, she would come to feel the same way for him. He had felt it in her when they first met--before the reality of their worlds collided. He could give her space, because he knew she had a hard life. Mack MacNaughton wasn’t exactly the most affectionate of father figures.
Stretching his neck, Rick wearily rubbed the tension from his muscles as he stood. He made his way to his living room, leaving the door cracked so he could listen for her as he lay on the couch.
Picking her duffel bag up as he walked, he dropped it unceremoniously on his metal coffee table. His feet didn’t break stride as he retrieved a bottle of beer from his kitchen. Twisting the cap, he threw it in the general direction of the wastebasket. It bounced off the wall, landing neatly in its target.
Rick didn’t wait to watch it. Going to Jaden’s bag, he took a long pull off of his beer, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. He studied the bag for a moment, debating with himself. Then, his decision made, he sat on the couch.
Rick unzipped the bag, looking in over the content. It had been so heavy that he expected to see an arsenal of weaponry within. Instead, he found her clothes. He smiled slightly, seeing the haphazard way they were thrown into the bag. She hadn’t stopped to fold them. Snagging the strap of her underwear with the corner of his pinkie, he lifted it up into the light. He grinned sheepishly, gazing at the fine lace panties. He couldn’t stop his mind from picturing them on her. Wearily, he glanced at the door to his bedroom. How he wished things were different between them.
Dropping the panties back inside the bag, he dipped his hand in after them to feel around. His fingers met the bottom. Just as they began to curl around the book’s edges, a deadly voice intruded his thoughts.
"Did you think you could protect her from me?"
Rick startled. His hand hit his beer, pouring the content onto the floor, the liquid dumping and gurgling until empty. The glass rolled off the table with a crash. Rick ignored it. He stared at the large vampire before him. Behind the intruder, the door was still locked, his windows undisturbed.
"You’re him, aren’t you?" Rick asked, his mouth hard. He expected to face Jaden’s devil some night. He just didn’t expect it to be so soon.
Tyr watched the man in displeasure. He could hear Rick’s mortal heart beating violently, though his body was calm. He smelled the strength in his blood, a strong life full of potent health.
"I have come for Miss MacNaughton. Step aside," Tyr ordered. He moved forward. To his pleasure, the man didn’t move. He was glad he didn’t. He wanted to fight him. He wanted to hit him for presuming to take Jaden away. He wanted to hit him because Jaden went with him. Tyr could detect her sleeping in the man’s bedroom.
"She won’t leave here," Rick said forcefully. The blonde giant in front of him chuckled. "State your business."
"My business?" Tyr chuckled, a humorless sound meant to install fear. "You know what I am, mortal. I am her master and I have come for her. You have no business trying to stop me."
"Jaden has no master," Rick took a step back, keeping his body between the mysterious vampire and the door. He knew if the vampire got past him, Jaden would be helpless to fight him off. And he was the one who drugged her and left her vulnerable. He had to protect her. It was his duty.
"Do you think you are good enough for her, mortal? Do you think you can understand her?" He felt the feelings the man possessed and hated them. He tried to block them from his body, not wanting to feel the other man’s love within him. Taunting where he knew he would do the most damage, Tyr continued, "You’ll never be worthy of her. She knows it, too. I can feel inside of her. I feel everything inside of her. I know her better than you ever could. She is beyond you, mortal."
Rick shivered at the low whisper. The words gave him pause, denting the hope he clung to for so long. The vampire’s strike was deep.
"She won’t have you," Tyr whispered. The ice blue of his eyes glazed in emotionless candor. "And she does not love you."
"And you won’t have her." Rick growled, darting forward to attack the gigantic enemy. Bravely, he struck out. He couldn’t listen anymore.
Tyr let him punch his jaw, feeling the hard snap of it glancing off his chin. His lips opened. A thin trail of blood dripped where his bottom fang tore open the delicate tissue of his lip. Licking the bloody wound, his gaze bore into Rick’s. The gashed closed, healing shut. Rick hesitated. The two stared at each other for a long, silent moment. Then suddenly, with a snap of his hand, Tyr hit him. Rick went flying across the room, banging loudly into the plaster wall. His body dented into it before crumbling on the ground.
Tyr frowned. Rick was a strong man, one that would be a great human warrior. But he was no match for a Dark Knight. An army would be no match for him. Tyr knew mortals couldn’t kill him. They had tried and they always failed.
Tyr stalked to the fallen soldier. Rick groaned, looking up at him weakly. Tyr grabbed the man by the collar. Hatred and jealousy seethed in the vampire’s breast. Tyr acted on animal instinct, his fangs straining to bite into the man’s neck. Rick moaned, feeling the sharp pierce gouging into his artery. The fangs sliced through flesh like it was water. Rick’s lips parted to draw a ragged breath. Spit gurgled up from his throat. He was helpless against the monster sucking and drinking along his skin.
Tyr swallowed with blind abandon, unmindful of what he did. He felt the man’s life slipping away. He felt death coming swiftly as he stole the man’s existence. Rick’s power flooded him. Suddenly, Tyr stopped. He pulled back, his eyes tortured with what he was doing. Rick hung limp, passed out from the rapid blood loss. Blue lines edged the man’s lips. Blood trailed from four puncture marks on his thick neck.
Tyr felt the heady energy life swirling in his head. He felt it in his eyes, filling them with the power of bloodlust. His mouth opened wide, wanting to continue, wanting to taste, glorifying in the pureness of the man’s heart, the pureness of his blood. Rick was untainted by the normal human failings. His story was in the flavor of his life’s essence. He was a good soldier, doing what he tho
ught was best for the world.
Tyr’s mouth closed as he fought to gain control over his greedy hunger. Pushing his lips to his teeth, he swallowed the remaining drops of blood lingering in his mouth.
Slowly, Tyr lowered the man to the ground. Rick wasn’t dead, but if he lost any more blood he would be soon. Tortured by what he had almost done out of jealously, Tyr bit his finger, drawing a droplet of his own. Swiping the wound on his victim’s neck, he watched as his blood sealed the holes. Rick might live, but he would be weak for some time if he did.
Without a backward glance, Tyr went to Jaden. He saw her sleeping peacefully on the bed. She didn’t move. Her heartbeat was steady, too steady for a dhampir. Her power was dulled. He couldn’t wake her.
Crossing to her with boneless grace, Tyr leaned the back of his hand to whisk past her face. Her eyes opened briefly to stare at him. Her pupils were small pin-pointed dots of black.
Jaden? He whispered into her mind, his lips not moving.
"There are too many secrets, devil. You cannot hope to discover them all," she hissed, before falling into the lethargy of sleep once more. The flash of awareness was enough. Tyr knew she was drugged.
He had no choice but to take her with him. In her condition, there was no way for him to discover what she knew. Her eyes would be unreadable, clouded as they were with the haze of sleep. Her mind would be numbed from the forced slumber. As she dreamt, her thoughts would scatter, making the leftover fragments hard to decipher. It would take too long for him to probe within the muddled depths. Tyr cursed. He wouldn’t have his answers tonight.
Scooping her up into the fold of his arms, he rested her cheek against his chest. She mumbled lightly before settling next to him. Her hand twitched, pressing against his heartbeat before falling to her stomach. Going to the living room window, he stepped dispassionately over Rick. The man didn’t move, barely breathed.
Tyr jerked open the window with one hand, unable to form into mist with his burden. On last impulse, he grabbed the duffel bag laden with feminine clothing and slung it over his shoulder. If Rick recovered he didn’t want the man fingering Jaden’s intimates again. He didn’t want the mortal to have anything of her. Tyr had little time to wonder at the jealous act as he left. Within a blink, he was gone, flying effortlessly through the night with Jaden in his arms.
* * * *
Mack pulled the mauve privacy curtains along the metal track to block out the insufferable sounds of misery. The thick material was no match for the howls of pain escaping the lips of a man withdrawing from heroin. Directing a scowl at Tom, he ordered, "For goodness sake, Carter! Get this man a private room."
Tom nodded, hurrying to do as he was commanded.
Mack wrinkled his nose, sniffing in protest against the disinfectant smell of the hospital. The intensive care unit was unusually lively due to the man hollering obscenities at passing nurses as his body thrashed against restraints. One moment he was begging for drugs, the next he was cursing the world for his misfortune. Mack had no pity for the man. He had no compassion for the weakness of addicts.
Eyeing Rick’s pale form on the bed, he met the man’s wakening gaze. His cheeks were starting to flush from the four units of blood he had been given, but Mack could tell the man was still weak from his ordeal. Absently, he tossed his leather briefcase and coat in a chair.
Going to the bed, he looked at the large IV in the man’s arm. The clear plastic tube led up to a hydrating bag of saline. Rick’s skin was clammy, his face taut against his cheekbones.
"What happened?" Mack asked in his ever matter-of-fact tone. The man next to them yelled in pain, again demanding drugs. Rick flinched.
Mack frowned. Turning, he disappeared behind the curtain. Rick heard a loud smack and then silence. When Mack came around the corner, he was wiping his knuckles on a handkerchief. Drawing closer to the bed, Mack laid his hand on the railing.
"There, I daresay he won’t be bothering anyone for a spell," Mack said by way of explanation. Rick smiled in tired gratitude. He hadn’t enjoyed wakening to the sounds of the irritating man.
"What did the doctor say?" Rick queried in a soft voice, mindful of eavesdroppers. "Did you talk to them?"
"They don’t know what to think," the man admitted. "At first they thought it a suicide attempt or internal bleeding, but they didn’t find any wounds. They said you lost a lot of blood and was given a transfusion."
"How long have I been out?" Rick wondered aloud, moving as if to sit up.
"Two days," Mack answered. "They gave you something to sleep at Tom’s request. He signed you in. He would’ve taken you to our personal facility but there was no time. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the doctors. They won’t be asking you anymore questions."
"Two days?" Rick groaned in exasperation. He tried to push himself up only to fall back again with a shiver. "We have to go. I can’t stay here."
"What happened, Rick? Where’s Jaden?" Mack’s watched the man carefully, hating to see him in such a sorry state. Inside, his stomach knotted.
"She wasn’t found?" Rick said sharply. His head began to clear. "He must have taken her. He said he was coming to take her."
"Who said?" Mack asked, though he was scared he already knew.
"Some vampire," Rick mumbled. Mack lowered the railing on the bed as Rick tried to sit up. The sick man swung his legs over the edge. Grimacing at the annoying needle stuck in his arm, he pulled it out with a hard yank. "He was strong, Mack. Unlike any I’ve seen before."
Rick’s arm trickled with blood. Mack handed him his handkerchief.
"I tried to fight him. I couldn’t. His mind was like a black hole that sucks you in. I have never seen anything like this creature. I doubt a hundred men could’ve stopped him." Rick absently blotted his small wound. Silently, he added, let alone one lone woman.
"Tyr," Mack whispered.
"What is this Tyr?" Rick glanced up. "I heard Jaden mention it."
"It is the demon you fought and lived, son," Mack said with a pat to the man’s shoulder. "You’re very lucky. He is not known for his mercy."
"The devil," Rick muttered, shaking his head. "I should have listened to her. Jade tried to warn me. God help me, Mack, I drugged her like you ordered. She was planning on running away. I should have just let her go. Instead, I left her helpless at that monster’s mercy."
"It’s not your fault. None of us could’ve known what was coming." Mack stood, turning at the sound of an entering nurse. The woman pulled back the curtain.
"Mr. Fletcher?" The woman stopped cold, gasping in dismay to see her patient sitting up in bed, his discarded IV hanging to the floor. The light blue scrubs she wore shook and swished as she rushed forward. "You’re not to be out of bed."
Rick grimaced, ignoring the woman. Looking pointedly at Mack, he said, "Get me discharged."
Mack nodded as he gathered his briefcase in hand. Throwing his jacket over his arm, he strode from the room.
The nurse placed her hands on her hips. Her wide brown eyes tried not to laugh as she kept her face dutiful. "You are not going anywhere for a couple days, Mr. Fletcher. The doctor will never allow it."
"Hum," Rick answered. He laid back at her insistence, feeling a little weak and not completely averse to the pampering. "My friend is very persuasive."
"So am I," she challenged. Rick smiled at her, his eyes roaming naturally over her small frame. She placed her hands on her hips. Cocking her head to the side, she asked coyly, "Finished?"
Rick chuckled to be caught staring like a fool. With a groan, he closed his eyes. "I need to get out of here. I’ve been in bed too long."
* * * *
Island of Delos, Cyclades
The carved stone chamber of the council was imbedded far beneath the surface of the small island, hidden away from human eyes and the ferocity of the Aegean sun. A large stone table, circular in shape with a large hollow center, graced the middle of the council hall. In the middle of the unbroken circle, in the hollow, the
floor was sunken a few feet below the table’s legs with a short pedestal in the direct center holding a lighted torch for illumination. It was not a place that immortals and mortals alike would be fond of finding themselves. Once someone entered the circle to be judged, it was rare that they were allowed back out alive.
High-backed chairs surround the table in eight spots, all but one occupied by leaders of the tribes. The Moroi chair stood empty. It was well known and pitied that Vladamir, tribal leader of the Moroi, was in a sopor. He did not partake of human blood, only rested in his unnatural sleep. It was not known why the Moroi leader had chosen such a life only that it had been so for a long time. Another vampire of the same tribe, Jirí, ruled in his place. Jirí was a loyal tribesman, but not fully trusted by the other council leaders. They often omitted him, without his knowledge, from talks of old things.
Colorful mosaics decorated the walls depicting the bites of vampires, legendary and real. Around the doors, dark red draperies hung, framing the thick old wood. The round table dominated the rectangular room, its legs and edges hand carved with old designs. The floors were formed with gray marble slats, a black impression of the tribal symbols carved into the stone behind each of the eight chairs. In front of each chair was again imprinted the symbol of the tribe within the wood tabletop.
The firelight from the center torch cast its ghoulish contrast on the seven faces of the attending leaders. Every tribe originated from different regions across Europe and Asia, each leader officially in charge of their region of descent. Though, in the old days, before the time of an organized council, there had been more of them. Warring and petty jealousy had driven tribes to conquer tribes--much like the human forces conquered other weaker nations. It had been a glorious time for the vampire--the bloodshed and anguish of the old days.
The remaining eight formed the council, each possessing their own unique abilities. They all excelled in certain powers, passing on the strong force to their benighted children. But for all their differences, they were ultimately descendent from the same true bloodline.
The Jaded Hunter Page 11
