“If it’s as safe as you ladies claim, then we’ll be that much closer to a cure.” Cardinal Worcher’s words were so close they burned Beck’s ear.
The cool metal of the aspirator stung as it touched her skin and suddenly it chuffed a loud blast of air. Beck felt the recoil of the aspirator as it bumped against her from the force of the compressed air, but no pain from the injection. She and Margo had purposely sought a way to administer the drug that didn’t involve needles since they thought it would encourage more people to try the vaccine.
Worcher released her and she stumbled back from him, yanking her sleeve down over the injection site. A strange warmth began to stream up her arm, like a trickle of heated water slowly moving along her skin toward her heart. Her head started to swim. A whiff of something that smelled a lot like rosemary briefly tickled her nose.
She gripped the edge of her desk for support, shock rocking her system, and suddenly felt as though someone was holding her up, which was strange since her legs seemed to be growing weaker by the second. She still had the oddest sensation that there was another person in the room with them, watching her every movement.
Clearly her shock and fatigue was leading to paranoid delusions. She shook her head and tried to focus on the physical sensations assaulting her system, cataloging them, organizing them, so she could tell Margo after their investors left.
“How long do you estimate the vaccine will take to produce immunity?” Worcher asked Margo as Snyder set the aspirator down on a nearby countertop.
It took a few minutes for Margo’s mouth to work again as she glanced from the aspirator to the trio, to Beck and back again. “About two weeks, if it works,” she rasped, her voice hoarse.
“Then we’ll be back in two weeks to check on your progress,” Snyder said without a trace of concern in his demeanor.
Evans glanced over his shoulder at Beck, his pupils a bit dilated, perhaps by fear at the realization of what they’d done. “She’s looking a little peaked. Why don’t you just let us out and see what you can do to make her comfortable, darlin’.”
Shock was brushed aside by indignation. Jerk. You’re just as culpable as the other two, Beck thought with venom.
Margo crossed the room stiffly, like an automaton from a freaky fifties sci-fi flick and punched in the access code. The laboratory door swished open and their investors left the room without so much as a goodbye or wish for good luck.
Inside Beck seethed. How dare they. How dare they do this to me! Her heart pounded harder, dispersing the drug more rapidly through her system. Calm. I need to be calm and rational. Think like the scientist you are. But detached observation was damn hard when it was your own body being used as the lab rat.
While she didn’t believe her life was in jeopardy, injecting a subject without their consent was unconscionable.
The door shutting in Margo’s face seemed to snap back her research partner out of her shocked state. She hurried toward Beck, her pupils shining with what looked like unshed tears.
Margo’s hand trembled as she extended it, then quickly withdrew it before actually touching Beck.
Great. Now Margo was freaking out. One more thing to put on her I-sure-as-hell-don’t-need-this-right-now list.
“Holy cow. Oh, Beck. I had no idea they’d do this. I mean Pastor Snyder has been pushing hard and so has Cardinal Worcher, but I had no idea they intended this.”
She tried to breathe through the heated sensation increasing in her bloodstream and the loud pounding of her heart in her ears as she stared at Margo. “Maybe they didn’t. Maybe they just saw the opportunity and took it. Either way, it’s not your fault.”
“What do we do now?”
“Start taking notes.” She gave Margo a weak smile that she didn’t really feel, but it was the best she could muster at the moment. “The research must go on, right?”
“How can you say that after what they’ve just done?”
“Because I wasn’t researching for them. I started this project to help others like my friend Kristin and my mother who got turned into vampires without their consent.” While Kristin had undergone the change as a last-ditch effort to save her from death, her mother had chosen it over her. She knew that now. All her life her mother had relied upon someone stronger to sustain her and in the end it had backfired, ultimately costing her mother her life. Until the truth about vampires had been uncovered by Kris in her investigative reporting, Beck had thought her mother dead.
Now she knew better. Her mother had simply turned her back on her because Beck had been too needy. Beck couldn’t fathom that. She’d purposely fashioned her life so she didn’t need anyone. Even now, deep down, she hoped that if she could find her mom again, she might be able to bring her back—enough to have a relationship with her again. For a second Beck’s chest constricted with memory. She swallowed hard against the uncomfortable lump in her throat. “So you damn well better be taking fantastic notes.” She took in a deep gulp of cool air, smelled that damn odd taint of rosemary and swiped at the curls tightening along her damp hairline.
Margo bit her lip and nodded. She rushed to get Beck a chair, then headed for her desk and sat down in front of her computer screen, the light from it making her face eerily bright in the gathering darkness.
Beck relaxed into the chair and tried to describe everything she felt, how the injection had worked, the increasing discomfort and sensations building in her body. She tried to remain detached, an observer of herself. It was like a rapid case of the flu without the screwed up stomach. She left out the paranoia and the odd rosemary scent, chalking it up to her own shock or an odd side effect of the vaccine. After fifteen minutes she felt so tired she couldn’t continue.
She slumped in her seat, letting the back of her head rest against the chair. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to lie down. I don’t feel so great.”
“Do you want me to take you home?”
“Yeah.”
Margo came over and slipped an arm around her back, but the darkness gathering on the edges of her vision was still growing. “Margo.” She leaned heavily on her friend, a wave of instability washing over her as she stood.
“Yes?”
“I’m gonna pass o—”
Chapter 2
Achilles stayed invisible and right by her side until Margo had driven an unconscious Rebecca home and tucked her into bed before leaving. The doc looked vulnerable, too damn vulnerable. She was still mortal, for now, which put her firmly in the enemy camp as long as she was working on the vaccine.
While it normally took a mortal being nearly drained to actually begin the transition process, in this case something was different. Her pulse was strong and healthy, making the smooth pale skin at her throat move with a regular even rhythm that drew his gaze. Whatever the good doctors had been doing to change the structure of the vampire virus, it had actually made it more virulent.
Even from across the room he could smell the delicate balance of her system shifting, the distinctive vampire pheromones beginning to cloak her skin and amplifying the scent that was uniquely Rebecca.
She shifted in her sleep, moaning.
He stepped closer and leaned over. Without warning she swung her arms around his neck. Her eyes were still closed, her lashes long and dark against her luminous soft skin, the deep rose color of her lips mesmerizing.
Gods, what he wouldn’t give to taste this exquisite woman. This close the scent of her blood pulsed hot and fresh, smelling sweetly of lemon and ginger, causing his body to ache with the need to feed. Gods, her blood would likely taste like a gingersnap with lemon icing. Afraid of bruising her fragile mortal skin or waking her, he tried with the utmost delicacy to pull her arms from around his neck and settle her back into the bed.
Her hold tightened. She was surprisingly strong. He braced his hands on either side of her shoulders and tried to slip his head and neck out from her grasp.
“Why won’t you kiss me?” she mumbled so quietly he w
ould have missed it if his ears had been less sensitive. Her eyes were still firmly shut, moving quickly beneath the thin delicate skin of her eyelids. She was dreaming, her brow creased down the middle. He could see the pattern of faint freckles across the bridge of her nose. He had no business being this close to her. He had no business being this tempted by her. And yet he was.
She pulled him closer, bringing his mouth a fraction of an inch from the curve of her lips. Her warm breath brushed his skin, beckoning him, her scent wrapping around his senses and pulling him as sure and certain as the moon pulled the tide.
His arms shook as he resisted. But as desire warred with duty, desire won.
Deep inside of him his reserve snapped.
Flick. Achilles didn’t bother holding back his fangs any longer. Damn she made him hungry. But he absolutely would not feed from her. Not with the transition having already begun. Either it would kill her or it would start the bonding process between them. Neither was acceptable, especially with her loyalties in doubt.
Once she had a mentor and had transitioned, it might be another matter.
No, he would not feed. But what harm was there in one kiss? Especially if she were sleeping. It wasn’t as if he were consorting with the enemy. Hell, she’d never know it was him. It would be all wrapped into whatever dream played in her head.
Screw it. Resistance was futile.
He lowered his head a fraction letting his lips indulge in the exquisite heated softness of hers, taking care not to scrape her with his fangs. She tasted like summer and lemonade—light, hot, sweet and tart, and utterly delicious. His hunger increased.
She moaned, the tip of her tongue brushing lightly against first his bottom lip and then one of his fangs. He sucked in a startled breath, the sensation spearing straight from his mouth to groin as surely as if she’d laved the length of him with her hot softness instead. The moment was both perfectly right and utterly wrong. He shifted away, gently but firmly pulling her arms from around his neck, profoundly aware that one more taste of her would never satisfy the craving quickly building inside him.
He licked his lips, just to sample the lingering sweetness of her and found it augmented by the sweetness of the lip balm she wore. He stepped back, as if the distance would help. What was it they’d said about forbidden fruit being the sweetest? Damn.
He reached out to his friend and fellow vampire. Dmitri. We’ve got a problem.
A moment later a dark curl of smoke filled the corner of the room as Dmitri transported beside him, his former fledging now a formidable vampire in his own right. The two of them together, shoulder to shoulder, took up most of the space in the small bedroom. His dark eyes, nearly as black as his hair, lingered on Rebecca, now tangled in her sheets. “What happened?”
“They shot her with the vaccine and she’s beginning to transition.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Smell for yourself.” The unmistakable trace of female vampire pheromones, vaguely like jasmine, lingered in the air. Dmitri raised his chin, closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. His eyes snapped open, his gaze sharp. “Saints. You’re right.”
“Whatever frankenvirus they cooked up in that lab isn’t abiding by what we normally expect. She’s transitioning, slowly, but it’s started.” He had to look away, the sight of her in the bed feeding the fire she’d already started inside him.
Dmitri rubbed the back of his neck with his broad hand. “But she has no maker.”
Achilles tried not to snort. Of course that would be Dmitri’s concern, given his own screwed up relationship with his maker, who’d seduced him against his will and changed him into a vampire without his consent. “No. No maker. Not one we can identify at least, unless we can tell which vampire donated the initial ichor sample. For now she’s a test-tube vampire.”
“Then she’s going to need a mentor.” Dmitri locked gazes with him, a familiar knowing of centuries together, more as brothers than mentor and fledgling, passing between them.
“Yeah.” And that was fine with him, as long as it was somebody else. Anybody else.
Dmitri blew out a harsh breath, then clapped him on the back with his thick hand. “Congratulations.” Into his other outstretched hand materialized a scroll secured with black ribbon and the official triple-ring, red-wax seal of the council.
Achilles drew back in horror, putting up his hands to ward off what fate had handed him. “No. Take it back. Anyone but me.”
Dmitri looked at the scroll and glanced back at him, his too perceptive gaze boring into him. “Kristin and I thought you’d be pleased to hear the news. You’ve waited all this time for the council to trust you again with a female and you’re going to throw it in their collective faces? What the hell is wrong with you, brother?”
He jerked his head toward the sleeping woman, fisting his hands. “Look at her. Just look at her.”
Dmitri gazed down at her, then glanced back up at him, his mouth screwing into a mocking smile. “You’re smitten with her, aren’t you?”
Achilles growled. “I am not smitten. Who the hell uses smitten as a word anymore? You need to stop acting your age, brother. Besides we don’t know what she’s capable of. She’s been working on a vampire vaccine. For all we know she may be a danger to us all.”
“All the better reason for the head of clan security to watch over her—closely.” Dmitri sniffed the air, his eyes growing wider, the grin dropping from his face. “Saints. You’ve already started.”
Achilles turned away, unable to bear the sight of her now that he knew what the council planned for him. “Don’t say it.”
“You’ve already marked her with your scent.”
“It was an accident.”
“But if they discover you’ve marked her—”
“Then they must not know. Say nothing.”
“As your Trejan, I cannot approve of this course of action. It will make you miserable, my friend. You know it and I know it. Don’t do this. Let me intercede with the council on your behalf. We’ll petition for another mentor for her.”
He took the scroll from Dmitri’s loose hold, fingering the hard edge of the wax seal. “I haven’t a choice. If I refuse the call to mentor her, the council will demand to know why. If I tell them why, then I’ll be excommunicated or worse.”
“Let me help you,” Dmitri pleaded.
“Do you truly want to help me?”
Dmitri’s shoulders stiffened. “Of course, brother.”
“Then keep your mouth shut.”
In the dark of the night the cramps started. They woke Beck from her stupor, her body coated in a sheen of sweat.
She didn’t remember how she’d gotten home, or even if Margo had stayed or left. All she knew was that it was pitch dark and she hurt like hell.
A rustle of movement, one that sounded foreign in her house, riveted her attention. She froze. “Who’s there?” Her voice echoed, unanswered, in the darkness. She panted against the pain radiating out from her chest. Was this a heart attack?
A large shadow appeared, filling her doorway. The outline of a man. A huge man. One with broad shoulders and a lithe movement that told her he was big and strong. His footsteps made only the faintest sound in her thick carpeting as he moved closer to the bed. Beck scooted backward, crablike up against her headboard and reached down, her fingers questing for the smooth hardness of the bat she kept on the floor beside her bed.
“Who the hell are you? What are you doing here? Answer me, dammit!”
A very masculine, very unfamiliar, voice answered. “If you’d give me a second to get a word in, I could explain.”
Despite the pain, Beck catapulted out of bed and rushed at him with everything she had, baseball bat in hand. She swung and swung hard.
He palmed the bat in his open hand liked she’d pounded him with a feather. It should’ve broken his hand. Obviously this guy had one hell of a pain threshold. She yanked at the bat, but he held it in a solid, unyielding grip. For the first time i
n her life, she was terrified.
“Oh, shit.”
He grinned, his teeth piercing white against the darkness. “That, Doc, pretty much sums up our situation.”
Yanking the bat from her hands he tossed it onto the bed, then reached past her and snapped on her bedside lamp.
Beck had to take back her first impression. He wasn’t big; he was enormous like a bodybuilder on steroids. His kick-ass attitude started at his black Doc Marten boots, continued with no-nonsense dark skin-hugging denim and topped off with a black leather jacket over a thin black cashmere sweater. The dark clothes underscored the golden tone of his hair and set off the most intense green eyes she’d ever seen. A shadow of stubble outlined a sensual mouth and a stubborn jawline.
But what completely bowled her over was the power that seemed to vibrate in the air around him like an aura. It was something she’d only seen before when observing big cats, a fierce wildness that seemed to linger just below the level of awareness. Total ego. Total control.
“I’m Achilles Stefanos, a friend of Kristin’s.” He dipped his head in a nod, never taking his predatory eyes from her. “She was worried and asked me to check on you.”
Beck’s brain managed to bounce back into gear long enough to form a coherent answer. Her mother and her best friend had been turned into vampires without their consent, and ever since she’d discovered a virus was the key to vampirism, she’d been doing everything she could to find a way to get them back to normal. “If Kris was so worried, why didn’t she show up herself? Just wait till I call her—” Beck’s knees suddenly wobbled as a wave of heated pain tore through her stomach. She groaned, pressing a fist to her midsection and collapsed back on the bed.
“How bad’s the pain?”
“On a scale of one to ten? An eleven.”
He made no move to touch her, merely stood there looking at her and crossed his arms, his feet braced wide. “It’s going to get a lot worse.”
The Vampire Who Loved Me Page 2
