Intervamption

by Kristin Miller

  Papers, books, office supplies tumbled to the floor, hitting the tile with a loud crash.

  He buried himself in the sweet taste of her tongue, bathed in the fragrant waves of rain pluming from her skin, and palmed her breasts through her shirt. She breathed hard right along with him, panting, gasping for air in between the pounding of his mouth on hers.

  Dylan frantically tugged her shirt out of her jeans, first the back, then the front. He reached a hand to his pants, popped open the button, then unzipped.

  She stopped. Pulled back completely. “Did you hear that?”

  Slade leaned in for another taste. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when he was so close to tasting all of her. “It was nothing. Come back to me.”

  She sighed, kissed him again, fevered and wet, her tongue twisting along his.

  Then he heard it too. A door click shut. Muffled voices. Footsteps.

  He zipped and buttoned up. Pulling down her shirt, Dylan scrambled off the desk, then bent down to straighten the mess on the floor . . . and banged her head against the edge on the way back up.

  “Damn it!” She gripped her head and fell to her knees right as the door opened and a concerned-looking blonde strode in.

  Slade reached an arm around Dylan’s shoulders and helped her to her feet. “Watch that desk, baby. It’ll move on you like that from time to time.”

  She glared.

  “Dylan, what’s going on?” the blonde fired. He took one look at Dylan’s plump lips, and ran full force across the room at Slade. “What the hell were you doing to her?”

  Slade growled, low and throaty, his fangs elongating as he crouched low for the coming hit. Ruan launched himself through the air from a solid ten feet away, aiming straight for a full-body crash into Slade. As Ruan tried to slice at his throat, Slade grabbed him by the arm, and pivoted, tossing Ruan onto the ground. Slade fell on top of him, letting all his weight push the leech into the floor. He rained blow after blow to Ruan’s head. He wouldn’t have stopped if Dylan’s voice hadn’t carried above his rage.

  “Get off! Stop it, you two!” Dylan screamed. “Knock it off or we’ll get the squad called out!”

  She yanked on Slade’s shirt, stepped beside their writhing bodies, and kicked both of them in the gut. “If you two are going to fight, get out of my clinic! I’m not gonna give anyone a single reason to shut me down. Get out! I said that’s enough!”

  Slade pummeled Ruan with a final blow to the temple, then darted up and off him. Ruan dragged himself off the floor slowly, adjusting his collar, his jeans, his grimace.

  Tension coiled in the air like a serpent. Any moment it was liable to spring again.

  “You watch yourself, newbie,” Ruan said, swiping his hand across his jaw. “If I ever so much as hear a whisper that you’re being inappropriate with Dylan, I’ll have your head staked.”

  “What’re you, her father?”

  “No, I’m the person assigned to protect her and I take my job damn seriously. That’s all you need to know.”

  Slade gained breathing room. Between Dylan’s wide eyes and Ruan’s sharp tongue, the pressure in the room jumped about a million degrees and his skin was starting to crawl. “I’m not going to harm Dylan or put her in danger, you moron, so you can point your anger in a different direction.”

  “Then do you want to tell me why I catch you and a single female in a room alone, in a compromising position? Do you know what that could do to Dylan’s reputation? Especially now that she’s spoken for. I don’t think Erock would—”

  “She’s not spoken for,” Slade corrected. “Not yet.”

  After checking the clock, Dylan piped in. “I think we’ve all had enough for tonight. Slade, I’m going to run another test before we leave. It’s not an option anymore.” She inched her way closer to Ruan. It rubbed Slade all kinds of wrong. “I appreciate you looking out for me, I do. But I’m not Erock’s until Winter Solstice. Until then I’m—”

  “This is your choice?” He hissed. “You expect me to let you leave with this . . . this new fang over royalty? You’re losing your mind, you know that?” Ruan tangled his fingers in his hair. He paused. Smiled, his thick lips pulling back revealing his elongated fangs. “Dylan, I really think you are. I mean, I think you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your body. Did you forget that you volunteered to mentor tonight? You’re not leaving with anyone.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She checked the calendar, her finger skimming over dates in red and ones in blue until it finally came to rest on today’s date. A date with something small scribbled in the corner: Feeders Anonymous. “With everything else going on I guess it slipped my mind.”

  “If you want I can take this stray back to the haven and then come back and take care of it myself,” Ruan said.

  Dylan slung her coat over her arm, grabbed her purse, and—did she just throw some candy in the side pocket? “Ruan, there’s no need for you to take on a heavier workload because of my forgetfulness. Lord knows you already have enough on your hands watching over me like you do.”

  The possessive urge in Slade soared to a new high. No one could watch out for Dylan the way he could. As he eyed some needles in a rack to his left, his trigger finger twitched. His aim would be dead-on from here. This Ruan fucker would drop like a stone once he had a few of those sticking out of his heart.

  “Don’t tell me he’s coming with you to the meeting,” Ruan said. “The last thing you need right now is a shadow that doesn’t get the hint. I can keep an eye on him.”

  “Yeah, I bet that would go over real well. I think maybe he could learn a thing or two about self-control by coming with me. Besides, I need you to get to work on organizing the blood draws. And notify me immediately if the delivery comes, all right?”

  She turned to Slade, her eyes all manner of serious. “You have two choices. You can come with me to the meeting and when it’s over let me run one last test to make sure everything really is normal. Or you can stay here and finish up your juvenile game of tit-for-tat with Ruan.”

  She stormed out of the lab without waiting for an answer, pushing through a swinging side door with more authority than her eyes spoke.

  Slade weighed his options quickly. “As fun as beating your ass sounds, Ruan, I think I’ll have to follow those swinging hips.”

  “You touch those hips and it’ll be the last move you make,” Ruan growled.

  “Too late for that.” Slade smiled, realizing for the first time that he was proud to be showing off his deadly fangs.

  He pushed through the side door without looking back. The hall was as dark as the lobby, with charcoal gray stone flooring and even darker walls. Candles burned bright from wrought iron pedestals, creating perfect arching auras about every ten feet.

  “So what kind of a meeting is this?” he called, running to catch up with Dylan. “Kind of like the Newborn Induction thing?”

  “No, it’s a Feeders Anonymous meeting for members of khisses in the area who are having trouble with their bloodlust. It’s kind of inspiring to hear stories from vampires who’ve fallen off the wagon and somehow found their way back. I think you could learn something, judging from your behavior back there.”

  Yeah. Sounded like his kind of party. It was exactly the kind he’d bust for an old shoot-and-greet in his old form. A bunch of vampires who had problems controlling their urges; the ones he enjoyed killing most. The leeches who couldn’t keep their dirty fangs to themselves. How on earth was he going to be able to keep his trap shut during the meeting and not go ape-shit?

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Slade realized aloud. “I should probably catch you back at the lab.” Beating Ruan’s ass into ash sounded much more pleasant than the psycho-babble alternative.

  She pulled him by the arm into a blacked-out hallway. Her hand was so tiny on his bicep, but her fingers dug lightly into his skin. He wanted her to dig harder; cause a little pain, a little pleasure. He couldn’t help but wonder what made her differ
ent from the bloodlusting suckers in the meeting, and if they had good sides to them too. He pushed the thoughts aside before they festered like trigger-finger blisters.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “They’d love to tell their stories to a newborn like you. It’ll be something new for them. They’re probably getting bored of seeing my mug every meeting anyway.”

  Not likely. “Really. I don’t know if this is the best thing for me right now.”

  She opened a heavy-swinging door and pushed him inside ahead of her. Black folding chairs sat in a perfect circle in the center of the dimly lit classroom, filled with vampires who all turned their red eyes his direction when he entered.

  Some smiled. Some looked away and continued whispering. Some glowered. Each of them looked pale and emaciated, wasting away to skin and bones.

  “Hello, everyone. Sorry I’m late,” Dylan greeted. “I’ve brought someone special tonight. This is Slade and he was inducted into my khiss only this evening.”

  Applause scattered through the cramped room.

  Did Dylan just call him special? If she meant special in the sense that he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, then yes. Otherwise he figured he didn’t deserve the title. Not by a long shot.

  “He’s going to listen to your stories of inspiration and learn from them. Aren’t you, Slade?” She cast him an expectant smile.

  “Yeah. Sure.” As real as he could get without strangling the nearest anonymous feeder to ease his tension. “Where do you want me to park it?”

  Dylan pointed to a desk in the corner. He slunk over, kicked up his feet, and waited for the big show.

  She draped her bag and coat over an empty chair, then scooted it into place around the edge of the circle. “Jude, why don’t you begin?”

  The shifty sucker on the outskirts must’ve been Jude. He couldn’t slump into his chair any more without sliding right onto the floor and landing on his padded ass. He’d dressed for winter—Antarctica-style, with snow clothes zipped clear up to his nose, thick gloves, and hefty boots.

  “Hello, my name is Jude,” he squeaked through about ten layers of flannel and nylon. “And I’m an O+ addict.”

  “Welcome, Jude,” the group chanted.

  Slade repressed a hearty laugh. He choked instead and played it off as a cough.

  Dylan didn’t buy it. She glared from her seat, before directing her attention back to the group.

  Jude skidded his boots back and forth against the floor. “My blood’s been clean for one month, two weeks, and five days. Feeding from a bottle here at ReVamp is great, but not the same, as you all know. It’s colder and doesn’t have the same emotional charge as a direct jugular draw. Every day is a challenge, but it’s getting better.”

  “And it will,” Dylan encouraged. “When was the last time you drank at the facility?”

  He swallowed hard, like his throat was parched. Like he could barely get his saliva down. “Yesterday.”

  Anyone with a brain would’ve known he was lying. It was written all over his face, his shifty eyes, and sunken cheekbones. Slade wondered if transitioning from sucking on a vein to swigging on a bottle was like the adjustment he made from Johnnie Walker’s Blue Label to the cheap imitation sludge. Or similar to the switch mundanes made from Coke to Diet Coke. It tasted different, but if you wanted to save money or cut back on the sugar, they were decent alternatives. When Slade realized he was rationalizing the addictive personalities of the blood suckers in attendance, he folded his arms across his chest and raked his feet against the floor.

  What the hell was going on with him? He couldn’t even keep his thoughts straight anymore.

  “That’s great, Jude,” Dylan said. “Why don’t you come to the front office on your way out and I’ll set you up with a complimentary drink for your honesty and willingness to share your experience with the group.”

  Smooth, Dylan. Real smooth.

  “Okay, I guess. Thanks.” A flicker of hope passed over his expression.

  Slade wondered if Jude didn’t want to drink from a bottle or if he simply didn’t have the money. If it was the latter, Dylan took care of it with her offer. If it was the former, Slade was sure she’d crack down and take care of business. It’s what he’d do.

  But why was Jude dressed like he was ready to conquer Everest? He supposed there were weirdos in every species. . . .

  “Great. Who’s next?” Dylan asked, searching the cowardly faces of the group.

  A trembling hand on the right floated up.

  Dylan’s eyes darted to the petite female volunteer who seemed too young to be at such a meeting. “Yes, Luciana. Thank you for volunteering.”

  “Is it true?” she asked, voice wavering. “What we heard about the Valcdana? Are you the next chosen?”

  Dylan sighed. “Yes. I am. But that’s really not what we’re here to talk about, is it? Why don’t you go on and share your experience with the group.”

  A dark-skinned, lanky fellow beside her piped up. “Really? You’re the one everyone’s been talking about? The first to break tradition? Whoa . . . never would’ve thought.”

  “I didn’t ask to be a part of the Valcdana,” Dylan’s eyes shifted from Luciana to Mr. Gangly. “Or to be the first to break the rules. But I’ll do what’s required of me because it’s what the race needs. The race needs for you all to be productive members of society. That’s why we’re here, so let’s continue with our session, shall we?”

  “Will you still work here when you’re mated?” a meek voice asked. “I mean, will your mate let you?”

  “Yes. He won’t have a choice.”

  “Will we still have meetings?” another shouted.

  “Everything will continue as normal. I’ll run ReVamp just as before.” Her eyes flittered to Slade. Sad, wispy clouds skittered across her heavenly blue irises, shadowing them in far-reaching places. Probably stemmed from the fact that after Winter Solstice the facility’s future was uncertain. Which meant these patients’ futures hinged upon that night as well. “You all will be fine. Trust me.” She forced a smile.

  Slade wasn’t so sure about that last part. He didn’t know Erock from Satan, but he thought he knew Dylan. She wouldn’t want to be tied down and controlled by her mate.

  “What about the blood? What happens when you shut down and we don’t have anywhere to feed?” Jude stood, frantic, squirrelly, scanning the faces in the room with a rabid hunger. “And why isn’t he here—the one who said he’d save us? He finally found a way, didn’t he? Why isn’t he at tonight’s meeting? They got to him, they must’ve.”

  “Jude, just calm down,” Dylan said. “Have a seat and control yourself.”

  Slade stood, making his presence known, and walked slowly behind Dylan’s chair. If the Abominable Snowman over there got out of hand, he was her first line of defense.

  Pacing a tight circle, Jude continued to search the faces of the crowd. “He’s gone. He figured out what was in the blood supply and how to stop it and now they’ve gone and done something to him. Don’t you see? They’re shutting down ReVamp because he knew something was off.”

  “Jude, you need to take a seat,” Dylan said again with more authority. “Why don’t you calmly tell us who you’re talking about. Who’s not here tonight?”

  He hunched low—red, hungry eyes peered over the ridge of his parka. “He found a way. He’s not here. You know where they took him, don’t you?”

  “He’s having a breakdown,” Slade whispered over Dylan’s shoulder. “If he makes another move, his face is gonna bounce off the cement floor.”

  She shook her head slowly in response. “Jude, who? Who’s not here?”

  He unzipped the parka down to his chin, revealing a set of oversized, blood-tinted fangs. He’d fed recently—one month clean, his ass.

  “David,” Jude whispered, his voice pained. “Don’t you remember? He came six months ago saying he found the cure. He’s the one.”

  Dylan’s shoulders tensed, her back shot rigid
. She knew David. Slade couldn’t help feel possessive again. Was David a lover? A friend? Either way he didn’t like her response.

  “Meeting’s over early tonight,” she said. “We’ll finish the session next week if that’s all right with the rest of you. Jude, the complimentary offer still stands at the front desk. I think you should take it.”

  She stood in a graceful flash, grabbed her bag, and slipped her arms into her coat as she stormed out.

  Slade followed, keeping a close eye on the disoriented group. Surprisingly, they all trailed his path, smiling as he walked out.

  Except one.

  Jude glared, his skin as pale as newly-fallen snow. Hatred fueled his down-turned expression like Slade was the rising sun, there to destroy his very being.

  Under any other circumstance, it would’ve been true. Fortunate for him, all Slade cared about was catching up to Dylan and finding out what relationship she shared with this David creature.

  She couldn’t believe it. No wonder David looked familiar when she saw him walk through ReVamp’s doors, she thought, as she pounded heel back to the lab. He’d attended a Feeders Anonymous meeting before.

  He couldn’t have expected her to remember, not with the number of patients she treated on a yearly basis.

  But now that she took time to think about it . . . that flaming red hair, pulled under a baseball cap, that sly grin and those beady eyes. . . .

  Yup. It was him. Damn it, how did she miss that?

  She pushed through the lab’s doors and slid onto her chair, popping open Windows as fast as her finger could fly. She didn’t hear Slade enter behind her, but could feel his dominant presence in the room, watching her. It shouldn’t have been comforting, but it was.

  “Jude said David knew something, right?” she asked herself more than him.

  “Yes.” Slade searched the room, most likely for Ruan, and then eased his hands onto the back of her chair.

  Dylan wondered how long she’d have to wait for him to touch her again and if she’d feel as conflicted as before.