Temptation Calls

by Caridad Piñeiro

  She dropped to the ground beside him, quickly ripped some fabric from her underskirt, balled it and pressed it to his throat, trying to staunch the flow of blood. At her touch, he turned his head and his eyes widened in recognition.

  “Samantha.” There was a slight gurgle in his voice as blood washed into this windpipe.

  “Dr. Latimer. Try to rest. You’ll be fine,” she said, although she wasn’t sure. The fabric she had pressed to his wound was already drenched and when he coughed, fresh blood stained his lips. He was bleeding internally as well, maybe from the bullet wound.

  The ground was cold beneath her legs and she wanted to protect him from it. He might be cold soon enough. Pain tore through her at the idea of him dead. He’d been too good to her. Too kind. This shouldn’t be the way his life ended.

  She slipped her arm beneath his back and cradled him tightly to her body. Only there was no warmth there. Nothing she could give to ease his suffering.

  “Cold,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

  She held him tighter, bent and kissed his forehead. “You’ll be warm soon.”

  With surprising strength, he grabbed her arm. “Don’t…want…to…die.” After his words, he coughed and more blood stained his lips.

  Tears came to her eyes and a sudden errant thought. “I can help you,” she said and laid her hand on his uniform. Beneath her fingers beat his struggling heart. It grew more erratic and weaker by the second. His breath was shallow and barely stirred the air as he said, “Help…me.”

  Taking a deep breath, she gave in to the change she’d been battling since she’d first smelled his blood, rich against her nostrils. Warm against her hand as she tried to staunch its flow. Heat flared through every cell in her body and strength came with it. Incredible and inhuman strength.

  She glanced around, seeking out the others in her group. They would stop her if they knew what she was about to do. Maybe even kill her after she’d done it. Only the eldest in this group were permitted to bestow the ultimate kiss. It had been one of those elders who’d sired her to replace the paramour he’d lost.

  Easing her other arm beneath Ryder’s legs, she effortlessly lifted him as the vamp within her assumed control. Quickly she moved with him to the edge of the woods, slipping within its leafy edges until she was hidden from view.

  She laid Ryder on the ground. The edges of his collar were stained with the blood oozing from the ragged wound at his neck. She watched that blood and the shallow rise of his chest. He was dying, but he didn’t want to die. He didn’t deserve to die and she had promised to help him, much as he had helped her.

  Bending, she brought her mouth to that wound, and mimicking what she had seen older vampires do, licked it.

  The blood spiced her lips and her fangs elongated even more, but she fought the desire to sink her teeth into his neck. Instead, she gave lick after lick and watched as his skin slowly knitted closed. Pleased with her result, she slipped her hand over his chest, hopeful that her ministrations had helped, but there was still barely a beat there.

  His gaze was almost as wide and unfocused as that of the young soldier she’d tended to earlier in the night. “Ryder.” She grabbed hold of his hand.

  No response greeted her.

  Ripping open his jacket, she took note of the angry bullet wound and the blood that still escaped. As before, she bent and licked the wound, hoping the magic of her kiss would reach within and heal his internal wounds.

  She fed a bit as she tried to heal him, but even after her ministrations he was still unresponsive. When she picked up her head, she noted the wound on his leg.

  She’d thought it minor at first, but now realized one of her group had severely damaged Ryder’s femoral artery. His pant leg was drenched in blood. She might not be able to fix the wound in time to save him.

  His face was pale. His eyes almost glazed over.

  “No.” She laid her hand on his chest. It was still warm, but growing colder. Beneath her hand, there was hardly a beat. Only a faint fluttering. Despite all her efforts, he’d be dead soon. Unless…

  She couldn’t let him die.

  Bending, she cradled him in her arms once again. He was silent this time. She brought him up in her arms until the side of his neck was exposed. The scars were still there from the earlier attack, but fading quickly. Had he lived, he would have borne no scars from this encounter. But he wouldn’t live tonight. At least not as a human.

  He’d be reborn.

  Samantha sank her fangs into his neck and fed until she sensed his heart clinging to the last beats of life. It took all of her strength not to keep feeding until no life remained and his soul passed onto another plane.

  Pulling away from him, she used her fangs to slice open the wrist on her free hand and brought the wound to his lips. At first there was no response, but then his mouth moved. He seemed to be pulling away, as if fighting her offering, but she held his head close and forced him to feed.

  Soon he latched on to the wound, licking and sucking until some strength had returned. He ripped his head away then and with anguished eyes asked, “Why?”

  Chapter 17

  “W hy?” Ryder asked again, much as he had more than a century earlier.

  “Because you’d been kind to me. I couldn’t let you die.” She moved toward him, even as Peter jabbed the middle of her chest with his gun.

  As she met Peter’s gaze, something stirred within her. Something that drove home all that she had lost. She saw nothing but horror and disgust in Peter’s eyes. His response drained her of the defensive anger that had erupted when Ryder had morphed, ready to attack.

  Returning to her human form, she said to Peter, “Shoot me if you want. Not that it will do much good.”

  Although he kept his gun trained on her, she sensed his weakness. His indecision. She gripped the barrel of the pistol and eased it from his grasp. “I didn’t think you could.”

  “But I can.” Ryder again moved toward her, but once again, Ryder’s companion blocked his way.

  Samantha pleaded her case once more. “You would have died that night from the wounds the other vampires inflicted on you.”

  “I almost died after, from the change that made me like you. Made me an animal.” He pushed toward her once more, but this time the woman with Ryder drew her own weapon and aimed it in his direction.

  “I know this won’t kill you, Ryder. But it will surely slow you down. Please don’t make me use it.”

  “Darlin’,” he said, and she lowered her gun. “She’s the one who made me this way.”

  Samantha couldn’t see the other woman’s face and so it was difficult to know what she was thinking. She could tell what Peter was still thinking, however. Disgust. Betrayal. Anger. Hurt. The emotions had been painted on his face by her actions.

  “I’m sorry.” She reached out to him, but he stepped away from her.

  At her words, the woman standing in front of Ryder turned. Young. Beautiful. Human. Clearly involved with the angry vampire standing behind her. She surprised Samantha by holstering her gun and walking over to her. “Is it true? Are you the one who sired him?”

  Samantha wouldn’t deny it. She couldn’t. “I’m the one.”

  “Then I want to thank you,” she said and held out her hand.

  Shocked, Samantha nevertheless shook the woman’s hand. “I only wanted to help.”

  “Like you helped those kids the night of the drive-by shooting?” Pe
ter asked as he retrieved his gun.

  “I got three of them out of the way. It was all I could do.”

  “And now you want our help?” Diana asked. She bent and began to pick up the shattered pieces of china.

  The two women cleaned up what they could. They rose together, Samantha holding the tray and Diana looking at the two men who stood feet apart, warily glancing at one another. She addressed Ryder first. “Will you help?”

  Ryder’s answer came quickly. “No.” With that, he walked to the door and left the shelter.

  Diana let out a harsh sigh and turned her attention to Peter. “And you? Will you help?”

  Peter glanced from Diana to Samantha, and then back to Diana. “I need to speak to you, Diana. In private.”

  He gave Samantha a harsh glare and she responded immediately, rushing from the room with a feeble, “I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

  He watched her go, as did Diana. When Samantha was gone Diana immediately lambasted him. “Why don’t you just pistol-whip her and get it over with? It might hurt her less.”

  “Hurt her less?” He advanced on his friend angrily. “She lied to me. Christ, I almost—” He bit back what he was about to say, realizing it would reveal too much.

  “I wanted to hurt him when I found out. I barely kept from kicking his ass,” Diana admitted.

  “When did you find out?” Peter asked, still dumbfounded by all that had happened.

  Diana walked over to the sofa and sat down. “During the Williams investigation. His keeper—”

  “Keeper? What the hell’s a keeper?”

  “The person who helps vampires when they’re weak or hurt. Who keeps them safe in their lairs when they rest.”

  “Them? You act as if they’re human.” Peter dragged a hand through his hair as it sank in once again that Samantha was not.

  “Ryder may as well be. He stays in his human form when he can and tries to live during the daylight hours. Plus, he rarely feeds on other humans.”

  It took a moment for her last words to register. “Rarely? He’s fed on you, hasn’t he?”

  “Peter, that doesn’t really matter.” She raised her hand to stress that maybe he was asking for too much information, but that didn’t stop him.

  “He’s your lover and you’ve let him feed from you.” His words were cold and condemning.

  “You think I had a choice in falling in love with him? Or helping him when he needed me?”

  Who cared for Samantha? Who watched over her and made sure she was well?

  The answer immediately came to mind as he recalled who had come forth the night of the shooting. Ricardo, the santero. She’d been injured badly that night. The bloodied shirt had been proof of that. Had Samantha fed on the santero to heal herself? An unexpected pang of jealousy rose up in him, but he quickly tamped it down. He shouldn’t be caring about her.

  She wasn’t human. Only…

  In all the time he’d spent with her, her caring ways had called to him. Her ability to deal with things despite the suffering life had bestowed on her made him admire her strength of will and character. And her selfless desire to help others, her humanity, had impressed him. Her humanity. Once again, the vision of the demon rose up and destroyed all the good things he knew about her. Made him fear her enough that he would have pulled the trigger on her. After all, it wasn’t like he was a man who didn’t know how to kill. And maybe that was what scared him about tonight’s discovery the most—that deep within, they were very similar creatures.

  “Peter?”

  He realized Diana had asked him another question he hadn’t even heard.

  “I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”

  Diana nodded and inclined her head in the direction of the hallway. “On the lady downstairs.”

  Anger roared to life as Samantha’s deception registered once again. “She’s not a lady. She’s…I can’t believe it, Diana. It’s just not possible.”

  “They’re vampires, Peter. It was hard for me to conceive of it as well, but there’s no denying their existence.”

  Peter dragged a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I trusted her.”

  “I know that you…cared for her. That her keeping the truth from you hurts, but would you have believed her if she had told you?”

  Her question deflated some of his anger. “Probably not. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s a demon.”

  “Look at all the killers we battle. They’re all human. Like us, there are good and bad amongst vampires.” As she said that, she covered his hand with hers. “Don’t judge her too harshly, Peter. I’m sure her life hasn’t been easy.”

  No, it hadn’t been. He remembered the faint scars on her back. Scars her husband had placed there in addition to the ones on her heart. Had she voluntarily become a vampire or had she been taken against her will? Had she made vampires besides Ryder? There was a score of things he didn’t know about her world and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  “Peter? Will you help?” Diana asked again. She squeezed his hand as if to reassure him that she would understand no matter what he decided.

  Only he didn’t know what answer to give. Not yet. “I need to speak to…” He hesitated, not sure he could call Samantha a lady, and yet unable to name her a vampire. He was still having trouble with the whole idea. After taking a deep swallow, he finished with, “Samantha and I need to discuss some things. Can you give me a few minutes?”

  She nodded. “I’ll wait here.”

  Samantha had made a pot of coffee. Its rich smell greeted him when he stepped into the kitchen.

  She was sitting at a large oak table, her back to the door. Her arms were crossed, pillowing her head. Her position pulled the off-white sweater she wore upward, exposing the fine network of scars along her lower waist. At the tops of her shoulders, the scoop of her neckline revealed more of the same.

  He wanted to reach for her to soothe her hurt, but he quickly shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

  She hadn’t stirred since he’d entered the room, but she clearly knew he was there. She stared straight ahead as she said, “I thought you would have followed Ryder out the door.”

  Peter stood to the right of her, where he could see her face, but she didn’t spare him a glance. “I needed some answers first.”

  She nodded and clasped her hands together tightly. “It’s your right.”

  “Damn straight it’s my right,” he said angrily and leaned forward, gripping the top of the chair in front of him. “I thought we were starting something—”

  “We were.” She finally faced him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. He couldn’t help being moved by the sight until he remembered what she was and how she had betrayed him.

  “Save the waterworks. My ex-wife used the same tactic. I’m immune by now.”

  She inclined her head upward, but when she did so, the first tear escaped her. She swiped at it harshly, as if angry with herself for being unable to control it. “I’m not like your wife.”

  “Ex-wife,” he corrected. “She was oh so solicitous. Like you. Beautiful. Like you. She betrayed me. Just like you betrayed me by lying about what you are.”

  “What was I supposed to do? ‘Hi, I’m Samantha Turner, vampire.’ Would you have believed me if I’d told you? And don’t you realize I might have endangered you with the truth?”

  He had no answers to her questions. Had she told him, he would have either thought h
er insane and backed away—no matter how beautiful she was—or tried to get more information. If he’d done the latter, maybe he would have been in danger, but by not telling him…“Why the charade of letting me get close?”

  She’d lied to him from day one, Samantha thought, but she couldn’t keep on lying now. What would be the sense? Her deepest darkest secret was already out in the open. “It wasn’t a charade. If anything, I told myself time and time again that I shouldn’t let you in.”

  Not that he’d given her much of a choice, always being there. Always watching out for her. Letting her know that he wasn’t going to go away.

  “I shouldn’t have let you in,” she repeated weakly.

  “I didn’t give you much choice, did I?”

  Gazing up at him, she said, “No, you didn’t. In my entire life, no man had ever looked at me like you did. Treated me with the kindness and honor you brought into my life.”

  “And so you paid me back for that by lying to me?”

  Once more, she had no defense against his accusation. Except one. “I wanted to know what it was like to be loved,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I hurt you in the process.”

  He was silent for the longest time. Unmoving until he pulled out the chair beside her and sat down. “Why did you turn…Is that the right term? Turned?”

  She shrugged. “Turned. Sired. Whichever it is, I made Ryder a vampire.”

  “Because…” he said and motioned with his one hand for her to continue.

  “He was kind to me. And to my daughter. I named her Artemis.” Tears came to her eyes as she remembered the day they’d buried the daughter who’d died before she’d had a chance to live. “I dressed her in the clothes I’d made for her baptism. Ryder had one of his hands build a beautiful little casket lined with pink satin. It was so soft as I laid Artemis in it. A comfortable place for her to rest.”