by Dannika Dark
“Search him,” I suggested, nudging the body with my foot.
Christian rifled through his pockets and stared up at me. “Any other suggestions?”
I staggered toward the porch and squatted at the end of the gas trail. “Get ready to run.” I harnessed my light and channeled it to my fingertips until there were tiny sparks. The gas lit, and the flame raced inside and ignited into a fireball.
With lightning speed, we raced through the back gate and down the alley. Christian had the bags and all but vanished in the dark shadows. I felt my energy waning, so I balled up my light and flashed to the street in the distance. It took me a second to get my bearings, and when I remembered the route to the main road, I took off—everything around me a blur as I moved at incredible speeds. I had to keep stopping to catch my breath, my energy growing weaker. Using too much light did that, and the hole in my back wasn’t helping matters.
Once I reached the main road, I had to be careful about not flashing in bright areas. Surveillance cameras might pick it up if this small town had any.
I crossed the motel parking lot at a sluggish pace. I thought my lungs would burst, and my hair was wet from the drizzle. Up ahead, Christian was leaning coolly against a wall.
He gave his pretend watch a cursory glance. “Where have you been? I carried two bags and still managed to get us a room with time to spare.”
“Which room?”
He furrowed his brows. “You seem off. And why is your heart rate so low if you just ran a marathon?”
When I reached down to pick up my bag, little white stars appeared.
Christian gripped the back of my jacket and hooked his arm around me. Without a word, he grabbed both bags and opened the door next to him. He set me down on the bed and went to close the door and shut the drapes. All I could do was lie there and watch. When he flipped on a lamp, I laughed.
The bedspread was blood red. “At least I won’t have to worry about leaving stains.”
Christian sat me up and peeled my jacket off. “For feck’s sake. Why didn’t you tell me it was that bad?”
“It didn’t occur to you when you yanked out the stake?”
“You have a remarkable poker face. Take off your shirt.”
I glared up at him. “No.”
“Either take it off, or I’ll rip it off.”
I knew he was trying to help, so I struggled to get my arms through the sleeves. My left one was useless, so Christian helped with the rest and ripped the shirt apart.
“This wouldn’t be a problem if we’d gone somewhere sunny, like Nevada,” I said in jest while he removed my shoes. “I could have worn a tank top.”
“Maybe you should make a rule about not getting impaled above forty degrees latitude.”
I swallowed, my throat parched. “You’re not—” My head hit the pillow. I’d forgotten what I was going to say, probably something about my not dying from this, but I was certain the weapon had punctured my lung and that was why it had been a struggle to breathe. Maybe I wouldn’t die, but I was going to suffer a slow recovery if the sun didn’t come out in the morning.
Christian stood in front of me, hands on his hips. “You’ll never make the flight tomorrow in that condition. They won’t even let you board the plane.” Without warning, he unfastened my pants and yanked them down.
My eyes widened, and when I reached out to stop him, my left arm wouldn’t cooperate.
“Jaysus wept,” he whispered. “Those are the biggest pair of knickers I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
I clenched my teeth. “It was laundry day when we left. I had to pack what was clean. Why are you taking off my clothes?”
“So you don’t gush all over the bed.” He scooped me into his arms and whispered, “Let’s go see if the shower fits two.”
I gurgled a profanity against his shoulder as we journeyed to the bathroom. Christian handled me like a rag doll, switching arms so he could shake out of his coat and shirt.
I glimpsed his back in the mirror, just as smooth and flawless as it probably was before he was staked. “I wish I could heal like you,” I grumbled.
He turned on the water. “I don’t see what you’re fussing about. You’re the one who can be used as a pincushion for stunners and impalement wood without falling into a state of paralysis.”
I bobbled my head around to look up at him as we stepped under the spray of hot water. “Is that a compliment?”
“Aye. Take what you can get.”
I hissed when the water hit my back, and he swung me away from the direct stream.
Christian was tall, and he peered over my shoulder to examine the wound. “The bleeding hasn’t stopped.” He pulled his head back and looked down at me, his voice gruff. “Take my blood, Raven.”
My fangs punched out, as if the offer had awoken some forbidden desire. I searched his eyes for smug satisfaction but found none. “I shouldn’t.”
“Do you remember what I said before? You’ll never know if Vampire blood affects you unless you try it. This is a controlled environment. I won’t let anything happen.”
“I don’t want to become your—”
“My what?”
I didn’t really know. I’d heard stories about Vampires drinking from each other and how, for some, it created a level of control. I wasn’t sure how that Vampire magic worked, but the look in Christian’s eyes told me there was something to it. “What exactly happens?”
He reached around and gingerly squeezed the ends of my wet tresses. “Your hair is as black as midnight. It looks like a blanket of darkness covering a river of blood.”
“Tell me what happens when you drink Vampire blood, Christian.”
“I don’t have all the answers because there aren’t any. Everyone is affected differently. It’s taboo for the maker and youngling to feed from each other if they’re the opposite sex. Makers have been known to hold their younglings in bondage with blood. Too much and too often can make a person feel compelled to obey, but that’s not the rule. Because of all the unknowns, most of us don’t engage in blood exchange with Vampires.”
Being in the shower felt strangely intimate, especially the way he covered my wound with one hand and washed me with the other.
“Have you ever fed anyone your blood?” I asked.
“Aye. Most weren’t Vampires.”
“Most?”
He shut off the water. “We all make mistakes. Human blood is pure and spirited, so for recreational purposes, Vampires prefer a human cocktail.”
“So then why would Vampires drink from each other?”
He sucked in a shallow breath. “Our blood is potent and has healing properties, just as your Mage light does. Most of us don’t give or take Vampire blood freely. It feeds into our primal nature—it can change you.”
He snatched a towel from the rack and applied pressure against my back.
I switched to a bad Russian accent, imitating Viktor while Christian led us back into the room. “What did you do on your vacation, Raven? Will I see it on the news?”
Christian walked to one side of the bed and sat down, twisting his body until he was lying on his back with me on top of him. “It’s easier this way,” he said in a velvety voice.
We were both wet, and I might have shivered had we not been lying skin against skin. Had I been the woman I was two months ago, I would have stubbornly crawled out the door. But I had to make concessions in this new life I’d chosen, even if it meant accepting help from a Vampire.
“I suspect you’re skilled in the biting,” he said. “Just remember that I’m not one of your victims.”
I chuckled and patted his jugular. “Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing.”
“Words I never imagined I’d hear from a woman’s lips to my ears. But trust me, it’s one you’ll never hear from mine.”
I rolled my eyes as I tilted his head away. His heart was strong, and I could tell from not only the vein he offered, but also the feel of it pounding against my chest. I wa
sn’t sure how much of his blood I’d be able to tolerate before I got sick, but hopefully it would be enough to heal. I prepped him with a few strokes of my tongue and sucked the skin. I pulled hard as if I were going to give him a hickey and rolled my tongue across his flesh until his pulse jumped. Usually with my victims, I’d been in a rush, but once in a blue moon, I had the chance to take my time. It took finesse to do it right, although I wasn’t quite sure if I was about to get graded on my technique. I quickly released my hold, and when I stroked my tongue against his skin twice, he shivered.
Hard.
I deftly drove my fangs into his neck and then retracted them. Color bloomed to the surface.
“You’re quite good at that,” he said in a silken voice.
It’s just for healing, I thought, bracing myself for the wretched taste. Just hold your breath and chug it down.
I latched on, and Christian’s blood was unlike anything I’d ever tasted.
Sweet and yet full of spices. Rich, with so many complex layers I’d never tasted in human blood. Now I finally understood what the fuss was about.
Vampire blood had infinite texture—it was alive and humming with information and power. Each mouthful evoked a feeling of security, and I was astonished by how clearly I could read his emotions on a level I’d never thought possible. Curious, I began paying attention to the secret flavors on my tongue. Fear mingled with desire, and despite his previous remarks, he loved the feel of someone drinking from him.
Christian’s blood was a river of life that healed my wound and invigorated every nerve ending. But something else was culminating between us, and I wasn’t sure if the influence was derived from his blood or the intimate nature of the act.
“This doesn’t mean I like you,” I whispered.
His breathing became as restless as mine, and I thought I felt his hand brush against the side of my breast.
“You need to stop,” he said. “Not too much.”
I wanted more of him inside me. Just one more sip, I kept telling myself, swallow after swallow.
But damn. Christian was more addictive than a can of Pringles. Even his blood tasted wholly different from anything I’d had before—reminiscent of what I’d experienced with my maker, only now I was tasting it for the first time as a Vampire and not a human. It was dark and earthy, sinful and pure, rapturous and frightening—as if heaven and hell were in every drop.
He gripped my head. “I’m not a drinking fountain.”
When I tasted the shift in his emotions—raw desire melting away to a blank slate of indifference—I pulled back and looked down at him, a drop of blood clinging to my lip. Something odd transpired between us in that flash of a second. I imagined his mouth on mine—wet, hot, and tireless as we kissed deeply. The fantasy was so real, as if I knew exactly how he would kiss me, the way his hands would grip my waist, the way his whiskers would feel against my chin.
I licked my lips, and something dark flickered in his eyes. “Let me seal it up before you bleed on the bedspread.” I leaned in and stroked my tongue along the site.
He tensed beneath me, his heart hammering against his chest. It also hadn’t escaped my attention that he had a full-blown erection, a rather large detail I tried to ignore.
I straddled him and wiped my mouth. “You should bottle that and let me put it in a canteen. Maybe if I had some of that Powerade, I could get myself out of these situations.”
He rose up on his elbows. “If you learned to defend yourself, you wouldn’t need a pint of Christian.”
“As I recall, I wasn’t the only one who was staked.”
He slowly sucked on his bottom lip as he looked down at my panties. “You impressed me back there. I don’t know many women who could keep their cool under that kind of pressure. I can’t imagine it was easy to sit still with an arrow in your back.”
“He’s not the first man who’s tried to kill me. I’ve never been the damsel-in-distress type.”
“More like Joan of Arc.”
“You mean that?”
He rubbed at his neck. “Most women would rather be compared to a queen than a rebel.”
“I’m not most women.” I held his gaze until butterflies tickled my stomach from the intensity of his stare. He could have easily charmed me—pulled me under his spell and convinced me to do his bidding. Instead, what had transpired between us was something even more dangerous: trust.
He sat all the way up and averted his gaze. “I should have just used your dagger to cut my neck.”
That was when I noticed the small object on the bedside table. “Hey, my knife.”
“You can’t leave behind evidence, Raven. Remember that the next time you’re in a rush to leave a crime scene. We don’t always have someone picking up after us.”
I chuckled softly at his tattoo—the one that said DRINK ME. “Kind of prophetic, don’t you think?”
“And what’s that?”
“Your tattoo.”
His eyes darkened. “Tread carefully, Precious. Paybacks are a bitch.”
My cheeks flushed when a growl erupted from my stomach. My tongue swept across my lips as if searching for the last drop of blood. “I don’t feel any different. See if you can order me around.”
“Take off your knickers.”
I hooked my thumb in the sides of my panties and rose to my knees. “Nope. Doesn’t work. Well, that’s a relief to know you don’t have any control over me.”
Christian tossed me aside and stood up. “Influence or not, you should still change out of them. I feel like I’m lying in bed with a granny sucking on my neck.”
I stood up to confront him. “Why do you have to be so damn rude all the time?”
“Is that the thanks I get for healing you? I’ll remember that.”
“Just so you know, your blood tastes like porridge.”
He arched his brow sardonically. “That I find hard to believe. Must have been the best porridge you’ve ever had by the way you were grinding against me. If you don’t mind, it’s been a long evening, and I’d like to retire to my coffin.”
Christian made a dramatic exit, the door slamming behind him.
Thank God Vampire blood didn’t affect me. The last thing I needed was to form an attachment to a man who unleashed insults like daggers, even though Christian’s was the first blood I’d ever tasted that made me feel on fire.
When I gave the bathroom door a hard yank, it came off the hinges.
Chapter 14
After Christian left, I showered and then relaxed in bed. I couldn’t stop thinking about how incredible it had been to taste his blood. Not only that, but I wasn’t sick afterward. I needed something to get my mind off drinking my partner’s delectable blood.
Once I began reading the personal diary that belonged to the latest victim, Penny Burns, I became enthralled with her memories and innermost desires. I learned that she was once a rancher’s daughter in Oregon when she met and fell in love with a Mage. Lachlan was everything she wanted in a man, and she fell in love with him the day her father offered him a job. Lachlan stayed for dinner, and they exchanged glances across the table the entire evening. It didn’t take but one wayward glance for her to know she could love a man like Lachlan. Penny was only seventeen at the time, but in those days, girls married much younger.
I turned the page, lost in the memories of a woman whose body no one had claimed after death. Lachlan accepted the job from her father to help with the cattle. Two years passed of long looks and Lachlan bringing her wildflowers—all without her father knowing. It was important to Lachlan to keep in his good graces. One day, Lachlan vanished. He had stolen one of her father’s fastest horses and didn’t return. Penny was devastated.
Ten years later, Penny buried her father. He’d left her the ranch, and she decided to sell the homestead and start anew. She was by herself, and she didn’t want to die alone on a cattle farm. Her life changed one evening when a visitor arrived on a black horse.
Lachlan.
<
br /> She had never fallen out of love with Lachlan. He told her he had left because bad men were looking for him, and his presence would bring danger to her family.
They argued, she wept, and they talked about her father’s passing. Penny couldn’t help but notice that Lachlan hadn’t aged a day. When confronted, he revealed he was a Mage.
I could only imagine the confusion and betrayal she must have initially felt. A person could only disbelieve for so long, and once he showed her his power, there was no denying. While she could have thrown him out and called him a witch, Penny did no such thing. They consummated their love, and Lachlan gave Penny her first spark. Had he not been a Creator with the ability to make another immortal, would he have stayed with her until she died of old age? The diary was fairly new, so the pages were a mixture of the past and the present. I finally closed the journal and set it on the nightstand beneath the dim lamp.
Motels didn’t get more basic than this. The bed and an upholstered chair were on the left side of the room, a bathroom across from the door, and a short dresser with a cheap television bolted to it. The room carried an unpleasant smell, like mold and thirty years of body odor.
A knock at the door startled me. Christian entered and tossed the key on the rinky-dink table.
“What’s all that?” I asked, noticing the white plastic sacks hanging from his arm.
“Aren’t we all cozy in here? I take it Gem had something to do with those,” he said, nodding at my pink knee-highs.
I straightened my long black T-shirt. “It’s not my style, but they do the job of keeping my legs warm. What’s in the bag? Is that our free shrimp?”
He strode toward the bed. “Sorry, lass. I didn’t get the shrimp-and-cable package.”
“Bummer. I thought it was free.”
“Well, as it so happens, they’re all out of shrimp. I figured since my blood repulsed you, the least I could do was buy you dinner.”
I sat up and propped a pillow behind me. “How thoughtful.” And I meant it. I hadn’t expected to see Christian until morning.
He set the bags on my lap and sat in the chair on the other side of the end table. I couldn’t see his face because of the lamp between us.
