by Celia Kyle
Suddenly the woman was all business. “Who is this? Where did you get this number?” The rapid click of keyboard keys overlaid the caller’s words. “Where are you?” Click click click click. “I told the asshole to take his cell phone and program this number in there, but does he listen? Nooo.” The stranger grumbled. “Mostly vamp, but I’m still too human to listen to? Fuck you, Joce. Stupid blood sucker… Kick his ass… Put him in the fucking hospital in fucking traction. Just see if I won’t. I know Tae Bo, dickwad.”
“Listen,” doubt crept into Kate’s mind. Tension bolted through Kate and her muscles tightened, flexed, and remained solid throughout her body. A rush of worry overtook her and adrenaline pulsed in her veins. “I probably got the wrong number.”
Click click click click.
“You’ve got the big guy, right?” More mumbling. “Tall, scary as hell? Bald head?”
Fear overwhelmed her. Calling the number had been a mistake. They were hunting for her patient and she couldn’t tell if they were friend or foe. The woman’s voice held a mixture of relief and rage. Was she happy he was found so they could finish the job they’d begun?
Shit.
Making a decision, she pulled the phone from her ear and reached for the bright red button to end the call. Finger a hairsbreadth from the screen, a soft, bone-chilling word drifted from the speaker.
“Gotcha.”
And that was Kate’s cue to pull an Elvis and leave the building. Maybe.
Okay, after one last, drive-by look at her patient and a quick word with security to keep an eye on the guy. Because someone had to have it in for him if he came in all broken up, right? They should get in touch with the police so whoever she’d called couldn’t get ahold of him until he’d healed and could run away on his own.
That sounded plausible.
So, a quick stop by ICU.
When she got there, she noted her vampire (who wasn’t really her vampire and she wasn’t going to address the “her” part of her thought) was fine. Holding his own and actually healing pretty well. A notation hadn’t been added to his chart in regards to his fangdom and she wasn’t about to tack it on. They’d given him plenty of blood while patching him together and she figured he’d be up and about pretty soon. Especially if his healing was as quick as she’d heard.
Kate took one last longing look at John Doe. He was clean now. No reason she couldn’t run her fingers down his cheek, right? Or trace the line of his nose? Or chin?
She reached for him once again. Just one touch and then she’d forget about the man. A single connection of skin on skin and then she’d wish him a speedy recovery while she retreated to her empty apartment.
Her fingers lingered over his cheek, digits lowering, and she felt a thrumming heat coming from him. Huh. She’d always thought vampires would be cold. Galla was. Not that they touched often, but her grandmother’s skin was cool to the touch. Why wasn’t this guy’s?
“Well, you certainly made our job easier.” A familiar voice snared her attention.
Kate snatched her hand back and spun to face the newcomer. Damn it, she should have stopped by security first. Told them to get the police to guard the guy until he woke. But the woman she faced wasn’t anything like what she’d anticipated. She’d expected a gun toting, badass of some sort considering John Doe’s injuries. What she got was someone not unlike herself. The woman was short, a bit on the curvy side, and the only major differences between them were red hair, scarlet eyes, and… fangs.
They were gonna die. First her and then her patient.
It was official. Vamps had shown up and she would be lunch. Then they’d finish the job on the vampire beside her.
The newcomer stuck her red head back into the hallway and let out a shrill, high-pitched whistle. “Yo, Count Suckula!”
The shout was followed by the rapid thumps of booted feet on the generic hospital tile and then a massive man stood behind the tiny woman.
Yup, right there—the vehicle of her destruction.
The small vampire gestured toward her and John Doe. “Look what I found! I’m the best people finder evah.” She bounced on her toes. “I totally deserve super smexy times tonight.”
Kate wasn’t gonna ask. Part of her wanted to beg them to just get the whole murdering thing over with, but the other was more than content to watch the weird train wreck before her.
The guy on the right, tall and broad shouldered and looking like he would gladly separate the woman’s head from her body, just growled. “Victoria—”
“Tory. Are you gonna call me Victoria until we never, ever die?”
“Victoria. I can’t protect you if you race off.” He spoke through gritted teeth and she easily saw his descended fangs.
Yeah, she was toast. Or a dead tree frog that’d gotten caught in the sun and turned into a fraisin—a frog raisin. She was a fraisin waiting to happen. But instead of the sun, she got vamps.
The woman scoffed. “I don’t need protection. I know Tae-Bo and I have a gun.” She reached for her hip and winced, scrunching her nose and squeezing her eyes closed. “Oops.” She huffed. “Whatever. I found Dr. Katherine Bennett and Joce, didn’t I? So, let’s rally the super-secret troops and smuggle these two outta here.”
Kate gulped, her mouth going dry, and her heart pounded. “Um, two?”
The vampire quirked her lips and tilted her head back to stare at the massive male once more. “Hey, snickerdoodle? Now is probably a good time to do the tranq dart thing.”
Kate took one step back, ass colliding with the bed and she reached out to steady herself. Her hand brushed against John Doe’s and his hand twitched beneath her touch. Strong, callused fingers gripped her and the heat of his possession sent a burning spear of lava through her veins.
The large vampire whipped out a gun and a soft thump immediately followed the move. Just as consciousness drifted from her, a soft, ghost-like voice whispered through her mind.
Such sweet fire.
Breathing—unlike eating food—was necessary for a vampire. So when Joce woke, disoriented, in pain, and desperate for blood, the first thing he did was suck in a heaving lungful of air.
The second was find the source of that delicious scent. It was sweet and hot, scorching him while comforting and luring him forward at the same time. It promised heaven and hell and he’d gladly roast for a single taste.
Nothing that smelled so good could come without consequences. Action and reaction.
Action: find the owner of that blood.
Reaction: drain the owner dry.
Her. Not the owner. Her.
Female. Beautiful and sweet with a nice dose of goodness tempered with only a hint of bad.
And she was close. Close.
The other scents in the air told him he was at the manse, the residence of the Atlanta Ring of Knight Protectors. He’d made it home, then. Home after having the shit beat out of him for longer than he cared to admit or think by more than one paranormal being. How about a dozen? But the fact he focused on most was that being home and absorbing that scent meant the woman was allowed to be on the premises.
And she knew what happened between vamps and humans at the compound.
Joce’s stomach clenched and mouth watered as anticipation uncurled in his gut. He could practically taste her blood on his tongue, skating over his taste buds and finally filling his veins. So sweet. So delicate.
So mine.
He nudged the thought aside for now. Joce didn’t keep humans on tap. They were food, cattle, and nothing more. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of this woman though. Not when the mere idea of tasting her heated his blood.
Joce kept his eyes shut, listening to her move around the room. It didn’t smell like his suite, the air tasting more like a hospital room rather than a bedroom. They must have dragged him into the old halls, then. The space was hidden within the thickest walls of the mansion, secured behind newly fortified doors.
(He would not admit that his fellow pro
tector’s fire did a good job ensuring their safety with those new defenses. She was part human, after all.)
A handful of recovery rooms stocked with common medical equipment lined the hall that led to the protector’s meeting room. Home of the round table. Yes, that round table.
A soft rustle of cloth brought him back to the present and away from thoughts of the mansion’s layout. Her steps were soft and barely audible as she neared him, drawing close with the quiet sounds. The wheeze of each breath and pounding of her heart drew him and his fangs elongated, sharpening the closer she came.
His. His. His.
Joce didn’t care about the coming battles and clues he’d uncovered before being beaten. His thoughts were centered on estimating the distance between the nameless female and his mouth.
Four feet? No, three. Then two. Then… Soft hair teased his arm, the strands light and delicate against his skin. Skin that quickly warmed with just that simple touch. She reached across him, breasts pressed to his shoulder and he knew now was the time to strike. Before it was too late, before she was dragged off by another for a meal.
To be their meal.
Her weight shifted, heat easing away, telling him she retreated. He was aware of her shadow moving across him, her arm thinning as her wrist neared his face.
And then it was too much. Too sweet. Too hot. Too perfect for him to ignore.
He wasn’t careful or tentative. He didn’t coo and soothe like others. Joce took what he desired. He was a vampire and the humans were in the manse with the agreement they were food.
He did feel slightly bad about surprising her though. He hadn’t played the bogeyman with his meals since he was two hundred and thirty-four.
His hands moved while his thoughts remained half formed, muscles remembered to do their jobs before his mind caught up. Her wrist was captured, firm hands holding her still despite her struggles. He opened his mouth wide, fangs fully descended, and brought her wrist to his lips. Her skin warmed him and he couldn’t wait for the heat of her blood on his tongue. He listened to the rush of the life-giving fluid through her veins and then… he listened to something else.
“What are you doing, asshole?” Her shout echoed through the room. “I’m not dinner! I’m your doctor!” A small hand slapped at his face, landing on his nose, a smack accompanying each yelled word. “I. Am. Not. Dinner. Bad vamp.”
The ache in his gut grew stronger, stomach demanding he feed on her and no other. Forever and always her.
But she treated him as if he was a puppy and that… was funny. No, it was unacceptable and he’d tell her that. Didn’t make him laugh any less though. A small human swatting at him as if he were a Pomeranian.
Even if he’d laugh about it later, he couldn’t let her get away with it now.
Joce released her hand, smiling when a relieved sigh eased past her lips. Too bad she wasn’t getting away from him. When she went to withdraw, he captured her more firmly. Fingers wrapping around her upper arms, he rolled until he had her beneath him, laid out along the narrow bed.
He captured her flailing arms with one hand, holding her wrists securely above her head and spreading her out for him. He easily slipped one knee between her thighs, securing one leg with his own. The more she kicked and hit with the other, the more she spurred his desire.
She fought and yelled—attacked—showing him the passion she kept bottled. Had others witnessed and experienced such a thing?
He would kill them all. But first he had to sate himself with the female, take the strength from her blood, and then he would destroy every vampire who dared taste her.
She was his. Human or not, she belonged to him now. She warmed him and banished the constant chill of never ending life. He nuzzled her neck, fang scraping a hint of her flesh and a tiny bead of blood rose to the surface. The sugary copper liquid teased his nose and he couldn’t resist her. He lapped at the tiny wound, tongue flicking out and gathering the single droplet.
Ambrosia. Perfection. The Holy Grail, Heaven and Hell in one. He swallowed it, letting it filter through his body and he embraced the new sensations that assaulted him.
It wasn’t merely the warmth of a body, but fire that—
Rough hands grabbed him, freezing the skin heated by the female and he fought the restraining grips that held him. He was pulled until he stood upright in the middle of the room, leaving the female on the bed.
They shouted his name as they battled to confine him and he knew who’d captured him.
Vampires. Friends. Protectors.
“Joce!” Griffin.
“Dammit, Joce!” Liam.
“Fucker.” That was Trewe’s growl.
“Dick.” The snarl came from Trewe’s twin, Tybalt.
Nearly half the ring was in the room and he knew the spaces were not large. But he didn’t care about them. He cared about her. The woman now crawling across the small bed—away from him—until her back collided with the wall.
Brown hair with a hint of gold. Brown eyes that reminded him of milk chocolate. Pale skin so light he nearly wondered if she was a vamp. Then he remembered her blood and his stomach tightened and complained of hunger. He was starving for her and something told him he wouldn’t be satisfied after one feeding.
Curves that were snug against him mere moments ago were hidden beneath bulky scrubs doctors and nurses wore, hiding her true shape from his gaze.
He remembered though. Would always remember.
Right now, Joce wanted a refresher course. His hands itched to touch her once more and he jerked against Griffin’s restraining hand before ripping free of Tybalt and punching the vamp in the face. The satisfying crunch of bone told him he’d succeeded in injuring his fellow protector.
No male—even another protector—should stand between a vampire and his fi—
“What is the meaning of this?” The speaker didn’t have to shout. He didn’t have to bellow or yell. He merely spoke at his normal, level tone and everyone listened.
None denied Carac. Their sovereign. Their leader.
The elder vampire strode into the room, his power pushing into the space and they all froze in place.
Even Joce’s little human.
His little human. He liked the way those words sounded together.
“Liam? Griffin?” Carac’s attention flicked between the two males bracketing him and then settled on Joce. “Joce?”
He smirked. “It wasn’t me.” He tilted his head left and right. “I’m sure the fault can be laid at Liam or Giffin’s feet. All else fails, ask Tory.”
When Liam groaned at the mention of Victoria—Liam’s fire—he knew he’d found the culprit.
A fire. A woman destined to be the mate of a vampire. His other half. The fire that melted the ice in his soul. The reason his heart beat.
It sounded like a spew of poetic bullshit the first time Brom—another protector—uncovered a few passages in old texts. The vamp had a penchant for books and tended to find answers to problems within pages rather than in breaking faces. Though Brom did have a good time when he let his vampire nature free. It made Joce wonder why the man enjoyed staying away from blood and retreating to a library so often when he reveled in carnage.
Carac slowly turned his centuries-old attention to Liam and raised a single brow. “Liam?”
“I would like to state for the record—”
It was obvious the vampire spent entirely too much time with hisfire. The woman was constantly getting into trouble and then spent just as much time trying to talk herself out of it.
“Liam,” Carac snapped. It wasn’t the sharp tone that had them all stiffening. It was the power, the pure strength that imbued the single syllable and demanded his word be obeyed.
“Joce left the manse this evening…”
Carac turned his attention to Joce and he shrugged. “Got a call from Vinnie.”
The quick flash in Carac’s eyes told Joce they’d be discussing hisfriend Vinnie later. Wasn’t Joce’s fault the protector
s didn’t like getting their hands dirty. And by dirty, he wasn’t talking bloody. He was talking scummy humans with the stench of evil clinging to them so badly that it hurt to breathe their air. It was those evil humans who always had interesting answers though.
“…and he didn’t take his phone. But, he did have the slip of paper Tory gave him with her secure number. Someone called. We retrieved him, but he was in bad shape. So we,” Liam coughed and Joce realized this was where things must have gotten interesting courtesy of Tory. “We encouraged the good doctor to accompany us.”
Doctor. Not a donor. A doctor. A human female brought to tend him and he’d nearly…
Shame. He hadn’t felt shame in a long time. Years. Decades. Over a century, surely.
Carac’s attention shifted from their small group to the doctor still huddling in the corner. “Doctor…”
“Bennett,” she wheezed and then cleared her throat. “Bennett. Katherine Bennett. Kate. People will be looking for me. Important people. Dangerous people.”
A small smile teased Carac’s lips and he found himself smiling as well. Important? Dangerous?
Compared to Carac, there was no one more important ordangerous. “I’m sure you feel that way, Dr. Bennett. I would like to apologize for the way in which you were brought to my humble home.”
Humble? Mansion. The man who’d grown up sleeping on bare ground now ensured he was surrounded by luxury and comfort at every turn. There was nothing humble about the manse.
“If you will excuse us for a moment, I would like to hear Joce’s report on his encounter with—”
A quick rap of knuckles on wood preceded Tory’s entrance. Staring at her hair and eyes, he wondered how long he’d been out of it. Last he remembered, Tory was wearing purple but she had red hair and eyes today. Then again, the woman swapped colors like a man changed boxers.
If he wore any. Joce didn’t, but…
“Yo, boss man. We have a visitor.”
She even popped her gum and grinned at the sovereign. As much as Carac grumbled and growled about the woman, he still hadn’t killed her and that said a lot. Either he liked Tory or he really didn’t want to lose Liam as a protector.
