Blood Judgment (Judgment Series)

by Nickie Asher

  The rogue shoved the youngster off and sprang to his feet. He tore down the alley as if the demons of hell were behind him.

  Two men in olive uniforms strode toward them, pistols drawn. The young male moaned before launching off the pavement. He grabbed her arm and, dragging her along beside him, propelled her through the alley at a dead run.

  She struggled to keep up without falling. Curses trailed behind them. Something whizzed past them and he tightened his hold painfully on her arm.

  “Come on!” He yanked her around the corner and hauled her across the street among blaring horns and screaming tires. An SUV skidded to a stop, barely missing them.

  He didn’t slow until they were on the opposite side, once again in the shadows of an alley. He released her and staggered over to lean against the wall. He pressed a hand to his throat. Blood leaked between his fingers and dripped onto his sleeve.

  Shaking, she tried to slow her breathing.

  “Oh, Jesus,” she gasped. The scent of blood and illness clung to him, but the thing revolting her was a raw, unhealed brand on his hand. His skin was an alarming shade of red around the wound and fluid wept from the swollen flesh. The interior of the brand was distended where puss had collected.

  Both of his wrists were ringed with partially scabbed over wounds, the hallmark of the shackles used by the government. He’d fought hard and paid the price.

  Though sweat beaded his skin, he shivered as if he were freezing. Infection had taken a deep, perhaps fatal, hold on him. Her heart squeezed. He was young, about her age, and dangerously ill, a recipe for disaster.

  “You need a doctor,” she said.

  His unusually-colored eyes, a startling blue-green flecked with deep gold around the pupil, reflected his uncertainty. She stared into their beautiful depths.

  Something about him was familiar. Had she seen him somewhere before?

  He shoved long hair back from his face and looked at her as if she were daft. “I can’t go to a doctor.”

  “Of course you can. Let me help you. Please.”

  Confusion shadowed his face. “No doctor would help me.”

  Her stomach clenched. “Were you turned? You were, weren’t you?” Sure he had been. Someone had turned and abandoned him.

  Had she encountered him somewhere and not recognized him as a cross-breed? Unlikely. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the infection raging through his body.

  “You need a doctor.” She pulled out her phone. “Hang tight.”

  “WHAT HAVE you got into now?” a large vampire demanded as he stalked toward them. A smaller, much younger male tagged along behind him.

  Terrific. Julian didn’t want to deal with anyone else. He wanted to crawl back to his room and take care of his wounds.

  The female moved to stand beside him. Her scent, like lilacs and spring rain, invaded his senses. He drew it deep into his lungs.

  “He saved me.”

  “What?” Alarm spread over the big male’s face.

  She waved her hand as if swatting a pesky fly. “I’ll explain later. He needs a doctor.”

  She was slim, delicate looking. Long hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back. If he ran his fingers through the curling strands, it would probably feel like silk. What would it be like to bury his face in that mass of gold?

  Shit. He didn’t need to be fantasizing about her. He had enough problems without that complication. Still, she was… Hell, she was breath-stealing, artist-inspiring beautiful. Something deep and primal stirred inside him.

  She blushed at his blatant perusal, but didn’t lower her gaze.

  Though his body sang with pain, her reaction awoke unbridled lust in him.

  The larger male tensed, his lip lifted in a snarl.

  Her lover? Unexpected aggression coursed through Julian. His hands curled into fists and he tightened.

  “I’m Saranna. This is my brother, Slade, and my cousin, Vali.”

  The hostility drained away, leaving him spent. “I’m Julian.”

  “Julian. That’s a beautiful name.” She smiled and it lit her face like a sunrise. “Do you have anyone to feed you?”+

  “No.” The mere mention of feeding sent his shrunken stomach into painful spasms.

  “When was the last time you fed?”

  “When I was turned. About a week ago.” His gaze met hers and his hunger and pain receded. He wanted to drown in her green and golden-brown eyes.

  Slade cleared this throat and straightened, drawing himself up in height.

  “Do you have a place to stay?” Saranna asked.

  “I have a room at some rat’s-ass motel, but I’m not going to be there much longer. Lack of funds.” He shrugged as if he didn’t care where he holed up.

  Saranna pursed her lips. “First, you need a doctor. After Jason sees you, we can pick up your things and go to my place. You can stay with us for a while.”

  Us? As in all of them?

  “Saranna…” A warning lit Slade’s eyes. “You can’t take him home. He’s a stranger, an adult male, not a stray puppy you want to save.”

  “For God’s sake, he’s been turned and abandoned. Don’t you have any compassion in you?”

  Her brother’s mouth tightened.

  “He’s sick. He needs medical treatment and he needs to feed.” She lifted her chin.

  Slade looked at the festering brands on Julian’s hand. “We can feed him. That isn’t the problem. The problem is you don’t know him. He might be dangerous. We should take him to Cadell.”

  She gave her brother a withering glare. “So, if he was dangerous, it would be okay to send him to a human? One of the few humans who helps us? If it weren’t for people like Pastor Cadell and those in the Red Rose, we’d have no allies at all. Don’t you see that?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. Saranna—”

  “Pastor Cadell can’t teach him how to survive. The one who turned him was supposed to do that.”

  Slade waved his hand in agitation. A two-inch, blackened fleur-de-lis marked the back of his left hand.

  Had Slade done that to himself? Did people brand themselves for fashion? Julian shuddered.

  “Saranna, if he hurts you—”

  Offense needled Julian. “I wouldn’t harm her.”

  “He saved me. Someone without honor wouldn’t put himself in danger for a stranger.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not leaving him on his own.”

  “Can we back up a minute?” Julian asked, “What is the Red Rose?”

  “An underground group of humans who try to help us,” she said.

  Slade snorted. “You can’t trust any human.”

  “Bull. Crap,” Saranna shot back. “There are good people out there besides Pastor Cadell.”

  Slade rolled his eyes.

  “Come on,” Saranna said to Julian. “We’ll take you to Jason and get you fixed up.”

  Slade said something under his breath that sounded like a curse.

  “I can’t,” Julian said.

  Saranna looked at him as if he were a few notes short of a measure. “You have to. Look at your wounds, they’re badly infected. That isn’t going to clear up by itself and it could kill you.”

  “I don’t have enough money to pay a doctor.” Julian’s face burned. Never in his life had he been poor. He didn’t like it, but his future was looking pretty bleak in the finance department.

  “Jason was a half-breed, like you were. He takes whatever he can get,” Saranna said. “If a patient has nothing, he charges nothing.”

  Julian stifled a groan. Now he was a charity case. Just great.

  JULIAN FIDGETED while Dr. Jason Bradford scribbled notes on a chart, wrapping up the humiliating visit. He needed to get out of there. Almost anywhere else would be preferable at that point.

  Saranna stood next to him and patted his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Despite his embarrassment, her kindness made him want to believe everything would be all right.

  Unlike the others
, she’d almost managed to hide her reaction when the doctor insisted Julian remove his shirt and the scars and fresh cuts in his arms had been exposed.

  Dr. Bradford put the chart aside. “I want you to come back if your hand isn’t better in a couple of days. You don’t want the infection getting worse.”

  Julian slid off the exam table. “Thanks, Doc.”

  “Call me Jason, everyone else does.” He handed a bottle of antibiotics to Julian. “Take the meds as indicated on the bottle. Take all of them, even if you feel better before they’re gone.” Next, he gave Julian a slip of paper with a name and phone number. “You might want to talk with her. She’s also a doctor, a counselor. I think she might be able to help you.”

  Julian’s face flamed. He stuffed the paper in his pocket with no intention of ever using it. No way was he talking to some stranger about his problems. He could deal with whatever came down the pike without someone trying to psychoanalyze him to death.

  “One other thing,” Jason said.

  Julian’s belly knotted. Now what? He’d suffered enough embarrassment already by discussing his new status among the lower class and his inability to pay. The doctor’s hint to see a shrink hadn’t helped. Julian wished he could will himself invisible and sneak out like a whipped dog.

  “Don’t mention me to any human. I’d lose my house and have nowhere to work if people knew about me.”

  “I have no reason to talk to humans.”

  “What about your human family?” The doc cocked his head.

  “I don’t have family. Human or otherwise.”

  Jason nodded. “I hope I don’t see you again. At least not in professional capacity. But knowing who you’ve fallen in with, you’ll be a frequent flyer. With two of them in the Resistance, someone’s always here.”

  The Resistance? Holy fucking shit!

  “Try to keep your brother and cousin from getting him killed before he has a chance to learn what he is,” Jason said before sliding out of the room.

  Cousin? Vali or some other cousin?

  “Come on,” Saranna said. “Let’s pick up your things and go home.”

  HEART THUDDING, Julian stepped inside Saranna’s apartment.

  “It’s small, but we can make do,” she said.

  She wasn’t kidding. The apartment was tiny and populated with worn furniture. She didn’t have much, but everything was tidy and spotless.

  “Just put your things over there,” she said, motioning toward the wall.

  He placed the violin case out of the way of foot traffic. He held on to the duffel bag.

  Though his insides were knotted with hunger, a hot shower was a necessity overriding everything else. He’d wanted to clean up before surrendering the key to his room, but she’d insisted he wait. “I have to clean up.”

  She pointed to a door next to the single bedroom. “Shower’s in there. Make yourself at home.”

  He ducked into the bathroom. It sparkled with cleanliness and smelled of lemon.

  He caught his reflection in the mirror and stood transfixed. Dirt smudged his bruised face and deep shadows accented his eyes. He resembled countless vampires he’d sneered at, vampires he’d considered beneath him.

  He’d never known true shame as a human. Now he knew it intimately.

  He cranked on the shower and peeled off his ruined clothing. Teeth clenched, he stepped under the stinging spray. It hit his wounds and he gasped at the shock.

  He stood head down, shivering as a chill raced through him despite the heat in the steaming shower stall.

  He washed away the grime and blood and took inventory of himself. An assortment of bruises marred his skin. The claw marks down his torso were ghastly. His arms… God they probably thought he was a mental case.

  Shit, he looked awful.

  He stalled. He hadn’t been jittery around a female since he was seventeen years old. But Saranna made him jumpy as a wild colt. Which was stupid. It wasn’t like he was inexperienced. But the idea of feeding from her in front of strangers had him in knots.

  He finished showering and dressed in clean clothes. After stalling for a few more minutes, he took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom.

  Everyone focused on him.

  Saranna’s eyes widened. “Now I know who you are. You’re Julian Wilkes. You’re with the symphony.”

  Her words cut hard. “I was.”

  “Oh. Oh, Julian. I’m so sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” He tried to force a smile and failed. “How did—”

  “I saw you perform once. At an outdoor concert. Your playing was breathtaking.” She stared at him with something like awe. “Your hair was different. You had it pulled back in a tail.”

  “Symphony requirement.” From the corner of his eye he caught Slade scowling.

  She nodded. “You played a solo. I don’t know the name of the piece, but it was incredible.”

  He’d played his ass off when he tore through the Saint Saens piece. “The concertmaster was ill. I took his place.”

  “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

  He couldn’t believe it either.

  She patted the beige cushion next to her.

  He hesitated only a moment before a hard jab of hunger set him in motion. He reached the sofa in a few long strides and settled beside her. Her scent enveloped and tantalized him. He breathed it in, holding her fragrance within him.

  She rolled up her sleeve.

  Ground Zero and now he didn’t care that they had onlookers; he was too starved to give a shit.

  She eased closer and extended her arm. “Just bite and let instinct guide you.”

  He took her arm and lowered his head. Unable to stop himself, he flicked his tongue over her wrist. Her skin was soft and warm. His face heated. Inherently, he understood he was engaging in a form of sexual behavior in front of her brother and cousin. He knew that, unrestricted, vampires would feed from humans, not each other, unless they were mates.

  “It’s okay.” Her tone soothed. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Heart pounding, Julian fastened his mouth on her wrist, then hesitated as self-consciousness gripped him. He shifted on the sofa. Did Vali and Slade have to sit there like a rapt audience?

  “Go on,” she said, encouraging him.

  Shit. He tried to shut out her brother and cousin. Didn’t work.

  Fuck it. He bit hard. She jerked, but steadied. Blood poured into his mouth. Moaning in relief, he clamped down and drank.

  Her blood hit his shrunken gut, soothing the pain and spreading warmth throughout his body. Shuddering, he fed with long greedy draws despite his effort to restrain himself. His cock hardened, pushing against his jeans. Mortified, he shifted to keep her from noticing.

  “It’s a natural reaction. Don’t worry about it.” She spoke quietly. Compassion and maybe sorrow reflected in the hazel depths of her eyes.

  Minutes stretched, until feather-light, she touched his cheek. “You have to stop. I can’t give you any more.”

  His fangs ached and hunger still burned in him, but he stroked his tongue over her wrist and backed off. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  She clapped a folded hand towel over the wound. “Come here, Slade, he’s still hungry.”

  “No! I’m okay.” Feeding from Slade sounded about as pleasant as a root canal.

  “You sure? I can take care of you, I don’t mind.” Slade’s offer didn’t ring true. Not even close.

  “I’m fine. Really.” Mild hunger was nothing after what he’d been through. He’d gotten enough to sustain him. Besides the idea of feeding from Slade was too off-putting. Neither of them wanted to go there.

  Saranna rose and disappeared into the bedroom. She returned a few minutes later with blankets, a sleeping bag, and a thick pillow.

  She piled them on the floor, using the blankets for a cushion. “Vali gets the sofa, so you’ll have to make do with this. You’ll want to sleep soon. Feeding has that effect.”

 
“Thanks.” She was right. With the hunger pain lessened, the sleeping bag looked inviting. A chill raced over his skin followed by heat. Besides, he needed to let his body heal and recover from the infection that had taken control of him.

  “Go ahead, bunk in. I’ll take these two outside so you can sleep.”

  SARANNA SAT on the top step outside the apartment building. Vali and Slade perched below her.

  She drew in a deep breath of moisture-laden air. It would rain soon.

  Slade shifted. “How long are you going to keep him here?”

  “As long as he wants to stay.”

  “Not a good idea, sis.”

  “Someone turned him because they wanted him to suffer, knowing he probably wouldn’t survive. I’m not throwing him back for the wolves to eat.”

  Slade shook his head. “What if he turns out bad? He’s been knocked around and who knows what his life was like before any of this. He might be a walking time bomb.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Didn’t you see his arms? He cuts himself. He’s not right.”

  “People who do that have trouble coping with their problems.” Why did Slade have to be a bastard whenever a guy entered the picture? A shiver ran over her.

  “Yeah? What do you think he’s going through now? This has to be the most traumatic thing he’s ever experienced.”

  “He’ll be okay.”

  “He’s a symphony musician, a sissy-boy violinist for God’s sake. He’s not used to the way we’re forced to live. What if he can’t handle it?”

  “He’s not a sissy and he’ll handle it. He has to.” She would help him adjust.

  “I don’t like it. I’ll be honest, I don’t like him.”

  “It’ll be fine.” Goosebumps covered her skin. What if he did something to Julian?

  “Saranna, be careful. He’s a stranger, ignorant of our ways. He might be bad news, so don’t get too attached to him. I wouldn’t allow you to keep him here if you were alone together.”

  She bristled. “I can handle a starved fledgling.”

  Slade met her eyes. “He may be starved now, but he’ll recover. You’ll have a physically healthy male on your hands. And you know nothing about him other than he has a pretty face and likes to hurt himself.”