To Love and Serve

by Caridad Piñeiro

  Would Ryder’s guilt eat away at their love if he turned her? Could he handle being the one to end her mortal life?

  But she wouldn’t let those doubts keep her from him any longer.

  “I’d like to go to bed now,” she said.

  “I’d like that, darlin’, but first I’m going to make you something to drink. Melissa said we needed to get more liquids in you.”

  Diana eased off her leather jacket, but as she bent to take off her ankle holster, a powerful wave of dizziness had her reeling. Grabbing hold of the mattress, she steadied herself, but the wave was followed by a tsunami of nausea.

  Ryder returned, a glass of what looked like wine in his hand, and stopped abruptly. “You’re looking a little green.”

  Her stomach decided to revolt at that moment.

  She made an almost drunken dash to the bathroom, slid onto her knees, and emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

  Ryder was immediately behind her, holding her hair off her face and soothing his hand back and forth along her shoulders. When she finished, he wiped a cool, damp cloth across her forehead and the back of her neck.

  “You okay?” He peered at her intently.

  “I’m fine. Can you give me a moment to clean up?”

  He nodded and rose, offered his hand to help her up. She took it, and wobbled to the sink as he hesitantly left the bathroom.

  She stared at her face in the mirror. Her pale skin still had gone sickly green, although color was returning to her cheeks. She turned on the cold water and splashed her face, then washed out her mouth with the cool liquid before brushing her teeth.

  On steadier feet, she returned to their bed. Ryder had gone downstairs. She undressed, cautious in her movements to avoid another bout. Then she slipped between the sheets, propped some pillows behind her back, and pulled the covers tight.

  Closing her eyes, she waited and worried about all that had happened that night. About Ryder and Michaela, and whatever they were involved in. About Michaela and Jesus being involved with each other romantically. She couldn’t think of a worse person for her friend than the slayer who seemed to be the impulsive type.

  At the sound of a footfall, she opened her eyes to find Ryder coming in with a tray. He laid it across her lap and she inhaled the pleasant, neutral fragrance of the small pot of tea, honey, cream, and plate with a combination of soda crackers and shortbread.

  “I thought this would sit better on your stomach.”

  “Thank you. It smells heavenly.”

  …

  As Diana prepped the tea, Ryder undressed and sat cross-legged on the bed, keeping a close eye on her.

  She’d really scared him tonight with her illness, and he wasn’t sure they were done yet. Her hurried trip to the bathroom proved they were dealing with a whole new round of complications in her health.

  The steady hand she used to pour the tea pleased him, as did the near-voracious way she gobbled the soda crackers and shortbread, and finished off a second cup of tea. When only a single shortbread remained on the plate, she jerked upright, an embarrassed look on her face. “I’m sorry. I’ve been such a glutton.”

  He was relieved to see a healthy stain of color sweep across her cheeks. He smiled and reached for the last shortbread, but brought it to her lips. “Eat up. You could use a little more meat on your bones.”

  Her dark brows flew up in challenge. “Funny, you never complained about my bones before.”

  Despite her words, she bit off half of the shortbread. He popped the last morsel into his mouth, then set the empty tray aside on a small coffee table in the sitting area of the bedroom.

  He climbed beneath the covers, and she came to his side, tucking herself against him. Her head and one hand were nestled on his bare chest, and one leg was casually draped over his.

  He stroked his palm along the length of her back, pleased with the lack of chill on her skin. “You feel good.”

  She kissed a spot over his heart. “You feel better.”

  Chuckling, he continued his soothing caress. Tonight was about comfort. Their caresses meant to reassure. Their kisses were filled with promise.

  Nearly an hour passed before sleep finally claimed her, her body snuggled tight to his. He wrapped his arms around her, afraid to let go.

  One day they would take the next step in their life together… But not tonight.

  …

  The Slayer roared his frustration into the chill of the early morning air. The sound reverberated against the stone walls of the tunnel, waking a homeless person sleeping a few feet away. The man peered up at him with rheumy eyes that snapped to alertness as he caught the glint of silver only a second before the knife cut across his throat.

  Blood sprayed everywhere from the arterial gush, but the Slayer didn’t back away. He watched as the man tried to scream through the wreckage of his throat. And saw death claim eyes wasted by a life of ruin.

  Even the bum’s blood smelled of the alcohol that had condemned him to live like a rat in this tunnel, all his worldly possessions in a cart beside him.

  He stood there for long moments, his chest heaving with anger at failing his mission. Killing the worthless scum had not helped.

  He had not expected Michaela and the Vampire Council members to be at The Lair. He had thought they’d linger at the Blood Bank, waiting for him to take someone there. But they’d been wise to him, and he’d made a big mistake.

  Failed, failed, failed. Just as he’d done so often in his life.

  He hadn’t protected his family.

  He’d been unable to complete his training.

  Last night he’d crashed and burned.

  He wouldn’t let that happen again.

  With a kick at the man’s foot to make sure he’d at least done this right, he turned and walked away.

  Next time he would not be the one surprised.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  There was nothing more pleasurable than waking in Ryder’s arms. Except maybe waking with Ryder buried deep inside her, making love to her.

  Diana inched her thigh upward until her softness caressed his erection and he hardened. Beside her, the rest of his body tensed, then came to life.

  He rolled to his side and the action brought her back flush to the mattress, his cock nestled to her belly. His leg trapped her beneath him as he propped his head on his hand to gaze down at her.

  “I guess you’re feeling better this afternoon?” He splayed one big hand across her midsection, and the unique connection they shared let him gauge the strength of her life force. In her head came his next words, Much better, thankfully.

  “I don’t know what that was last night.” She’d thought it was the end, and she had been prepared to have Ryder turn her. But this morning, she felt as if it hadn’t happened. She was stronger. Different and somehow more alive. She possibly felt even better than she had after the last aphaeresis treatment and Ryder’s kiss. Impossible to believe, even more impossible to hope this feeling would linger.

  “What aren’t you saying, darlin’?”

  She covered his hand with hers and pressed it tight against her belly. “Do you feel it? That I’m not as weak?”

  He confirmed it with a reluctant nod. “I do, but—”

  “You’re afraid to hope.”

  There was no hesitation in his nod and no denying what was in his eyes. “But I’m not afraid to love, darlin’.”

  She smiled and drew his hand to her breast. “Love me then, Ryder.”

  He covered her breast with his hand and brought his body over hers more fully as he met her mouth with his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  She opened to his kiss as he caressed her breast, then tweaked her nipple into a hard peak and swept his mouth down to taste her. She held his head to her as he alternated his mouth and fingers from breast to breast, savoring the pleasure he brought her. Urging him on.

  “I could come just from you kissing me there,” she said, sensitized to his touch.
She felt the shape of his smile as he suckled her, then shifted his hand to part her legs and find the nub at her center.

  “Then come for me, darlin’,” he said, sucking and teething her nipples, pressing against her clit with sure strokes that made her wet with need.

  She closed her eyes and let the pleasure suffuse her. Let his loving caresses carry her ever upward until she was so high she thought she might fly away. Then he pinned her arms to the bed and drove into her, grounding her with his delicious weight.

  Opening her eyes, she locked her gaze with his as he moved inside her, pushing her toward her release as he stroked in and out, his movements strong and sure.

  She cradled his hips with her thighs, deepening his penetration so she gasped from the fullness of him. From the sensation of being one with him. With one powerful thrust, they came crashing down together. Gust after gust of pleasure buffeted their bodies.

  She moaned as he held himself over her, damp with sweat, and they waited for the storm to pass. He released her wrists and she stroked her hands across his shoulders. Their bodies were warm and wet with life.

  More powerful than she’d felt in some time.

  She wouldn’t question why. She would only hope. He carefully shifted to his side and took her with him. Together, they lay there as passion ebbed…and reality crept in like a thief to steal away part of the peace their love had brought.

  “Where do we go from here?” She stroked her hand across his chest, trying to soothe the anguish the question might bring.

  “You and I, we can’t do normal.” She traced the hard edge of his masculine nipple. Even before Fate had brought them together, her world had barely been on the edge of normal.

  “Darlin’, I can hear the gears churning in your head.” He playfully nudged her. The action made him slip from her body and she sighed at the loss of him.

  “Sorry,” he said. She seized the opportunity to shift upward and lay face to face with him. To see his features and gauge his reaction. “Jesus said he’s working on getting my suspension lifted.”

  “Do you think it’s wise to go back, after last night?” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but fear was there, pulling all color from his already pale skin, deadening the rich cocoa of his eyes.

  “When I held my dad as he was dying, he told me to always do the right thing.”

  “You have done the right thing, over and over again, darlin’.”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Thank you for that, but there have been times I haven’t. In the year after he died, I lost myself. Lost my bearings.”

  “You were eighteen. Too young for that kind of burden.”

  “Maybe. But I made a promise to him and to myself that day, and I intend to fulfill it.”

  …

  “I know.” Ryder understood. He snaked his arm out and urged her forward for a kiss. “I know,” he repeated against her lips, flavored now with the salt of her tears. Tears she’d finally gifted him with, along with a piece of herself she’d kept locked away for so long.

  As happened too often in their life together, the chirp of a cell phone shattered the moment. Diana reached for it, leaning across him to reach the nightstand. A puzzled frown formed on her face. She grabbed his cell phone and handed it to him.

  He was just as surprised when the caller ID indicated NYPD Detective Peter Daly. Ryder hoped there wasn’t any problem with Daly’s vampire wife, Samantha, or at the shelter she ran.

  Answering the call, he said, “Good afternoon, Detective. I hope everything is okay.”

  Daly’s heavy sigh communicated trouble. “There’s something you need to know.”

  “How about we meet at the shelter at eleven?” Michaela should be there for the discussion, and Diego as well.

  “That sounds good. I’ll be off duty by then,” Daly confirmed and hung up.

  “Problems?” Diana asked.

  He thought about her earlier revelation, and figured it was time for his own. “When I was first turned, I kept asking myself ‘Why?’ I asked each of my keepers, year after year, decade after decade, ‘Why?’ ”

  Reaching down to her gold chain lying against his chest, he raised it until the crucifix and medal swung in the space between them. “I asked God over and over, ‘Why?’ ”

  “Sometimes there just isn’t an answer.”

  Ryder shook his head. “I know why now, Diana. You. I have to believe you were part of the reason I wasn’t meant to die that day.”

  “Talk about a burden,” she murmured, but there was little bite in her words.

  He smiled and cupped the side of her face, applying gentle pressure to urge her upward as he met her halfway.

  “No. A blessing,” he said and kissed her with all of his heart so she would have no doubt.

  The kiss deepened in slow degrees until they both shook with need, but he held himself back.

  “You brought me to life again, Diana. But you also opened the doors to a world I had avoided for too long.”

  “The vampire world.” She smiled. “You have friends again.”

  He nodded. “Like you, I have to do the right thing in that world. But…you don’t have to be a part of it. You don’t need to know what’s going on.”

  “Separate, but together? Do you really think that’s possible?”

  No, he didn’t. But until she was ready to commit, it was for the best. He wouldn’t press her, though, and changed the subject. “I think we’ve got several hours before I have to go. What would you like to do?”

  A happy gleam replaced her earlier tears. “Before or after we make love again?”

  He chuckled and slipped his hands to her waist, guided her to cover his body with hers. “I guess you are feeling much better.”

  “I am,” she said, and proceeded to show him just how much.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Ryder and Diego stood on the sidewalk in front of the Artemis Shelter as Michaela approached. Alone again.

  When she reached them, Ryder asked, “Where’s Benjamin?”

  “Busy. Evangeline asked him to meet her to report on what’s happening,” she said, although she seemed annoyed by his absence.

  Ryder shared a glance with Diego, but said nothing. It was almost as if Evangeline was keeping Benjamin busy to create more of a burden on Michaela. Maybe even so the elder would be able to place all of the blame on Michaela if she failed in this mission.

  Daly opened the door even before Ryder, Diego, and Michaela got to the stoop of the brownstone. His grim expression offered little comfort. From the looks of his rumpled suit, the detective had only just gotten home from a long day at work.

  After introducing Michaela, they went in, and Daly jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. Since marrying a year earlier, he and his vampiress wife, who ran the shelter, had renovated the fourth floor for a private area away from the women and children they helped.

  Four flights up, Daly closed the door and said, “Samantha is with the women. We didn’t want them to worry.” The detective walked over to a small table where a manila file rested on the polished mahogany. He pulled some photos from it and laid them out.

  “We got a call this morning. A jogger noticed a man running from a tunnel and thought there was something odd. When he went to investigate, he found this homeless man.” He pointed to a photo. “Throat slit, but no stake.”

  Michaela perused the photos and picked one up for a closer look while Ryder and Diego examined some of the others.

  “The violence is the same. He nearly took the guy’s head off,” she said.

  “I showed our ME the photos you gave me of your dead vamps. He wouldn’t swear to it, but he admitted the killing blow could have been made by the same weapon.”

  Diego shook his head with puzzlement at the victim. “But this man is a human. Even a rogue slayer wouldn’t do this.”

  Michaela said, “Don’t bet on that. He’s crazy. Now he’s angry and frustrated that we upset his pattern.”

&nbs
p; Peter nodded. “Totally right, Michaela. That means he’ll get more and more violent as his rage builds.”

  Since Diana was a profiler, Ryder had been treated to more than one view into the mind of a serial killer, and he had no doubt they were right. He flipped through the photos until he got to one of some bloody footprints. He lifted the photo for the rest to see. “What about these?”

  “The killer’s. The homeless guy was barefoot.”

  Michaela leaned forward to look at the photo, and Ryder caught the glimmer of recognition before she schooled her emotions. “That’s a big foot. At least a size fourteen.”

  “The ME says it’s a fifteen,” Daly said. “Some kind of pricey custom hiking boot. We’re checking the sole pattern and once we’ve got a match, we’ll start contacting stores for sales info.”

  “You’ll let us know?” Diego asked.

  Peter nodded, reached into the inside pocket of his suit, and pulled out a small notepad. He flipped through the pages and read off some of his observations. “The jogger didn’t get a real good look at the killer. He had on a long leather duster with the collar turned up and a black cap pulled low on his forehead. Six foot with an average build.”

  “That matches the man we saw last night,” Ryder said, but looked to Michaela for confirmation.

  She hesitated, clearly troubled, but finally nodded. “I agree. That’s the man we’re trying to track.”

  “I want him punished for this crime,” Peter said forcefully.

  Michaela met his gaze head on, her tone ice cold as she said, “The Slayer Council’s punishment for all these acts is death.”

  Peter hunched his shoulders in agreement. “That’ll do.”

  She faced Ryder and Diego, her face pale, her blue eyes blazing with fire. “I have to report this to the Council. They have to sanction the immediate termination of this individual.”

  She didn’t wait for their approval. She whirled away, and the tails of her long jacket flapped behind her as she flew out the door.

  Ryder narrowed his eyes, staring after Michaela. “She knows something she’s not saying.”

  “We should follow her,” Diego suggested.