Fury Calls

by Caridad Piñeiro

  She bounded off the desk and faced them, a feral look in her eyes. A wild tremor shook her body as she stood there, smelling the air.

  Blake knew she was beyond reach, beyond caring for anything but blood, and Lee wasn’t much better.

  Gleeful laughter erupted from him as he sidestepped from where Blake lay, bleeding to death. As Lee moved, he crooned to Meghan, “He is yours, baobei. Savor him. Watch the light fade from his eyes as you devour him.”

  Meghan advanced on him, but something flickered in her gaze. Something that said to him that she might not be as far gone on the drug as he had thought.

  Forcing himself into an upright position, he softly whispered, “Don’t go chicken on me now, Meghan. A cheerleader can kick that Chinaman’s sorry ass any day.”

  Another flicker danced across her eyes, but she still moved toward him, almost as if stalking prey. Only he wasn’t going anywhere. He would be an easy kill for her in his current condition. For that matter, he might be dead meat by the time she finally decided to attack.

  On his back and along his side he felt the dampness of the blood draining rapidly from his body. Lee had gotten something vital with those knife thrusts, and the silver was interfering with his healing. When he drew a rough breath and felt a sharp pain at the center of his chest, it occurred to him that Lee had probably nicked his heart.

  Black circles danced before his eyes, but he forced himself to focus and somehow rose to his feet. A mistake, maybe, as he noted what was left of his blood drain from his extremities and pool in his gut. His legs grew even more rubbery, and he couldn’t stay upright against the wall.

  Lee sensed it as well. He knew Blake’s death was imminent, but that wasn’t enough for him. Once again he urged Meghan onward. “Take him, baobei, before he robs you by dying.”

  Dying, Meghan thought.

  That one word broke through the haze of the drug and she struggled to fix on that word. She somehow managed to converge all her senses into recognition of that one concept.

  Dying.

  Blake was dying. The smell of his blood was strong. She had the scent of it imprinted in her brain from the many times they had shared themselves. From the many times he had loved her.

  “Feed from him, my treasure. Feed me.” Lee intoned his command but she pushed him out of her brain. Only one thought dominated her mind.

  Blake was dying.

  Then another thought assailed her. Her own death.

  She knew the drug was sizzling in her veins, demanding blood to satisfy it and destroying her the longer she couldn’t feed.

  She imagined sinking her teeth into flesh and tasting the rich earthy warmth of blood. Imagined the rush of power through her veins.

  She advanced on Blake again and in her head, she heard his soothing voice urging, “Feed from me to save yourself, Meghan. I understand.”

  Her mind rebelled at his request and somehow she managed to hold on to the connection with his energy. She used it to drive away the pull of Lee’s power that commanded her to kill and enticed her with the promise of the satisfaction Blake’s blood would bring.

  Blake’s blood, she thought again. The aroma of it was rich in her nose, so strong it was if she could taste it. With that awareness came another.

  Blake’s energy was fading quickly.

  He was dying and only she could do something about that.

  In a blur of movement she rushed across the room and attacked Lee, who slashed at her with the knife, catching her on the forearm. The momentary pain drove her away and let him rush to the door, but the pain only delayed her for a second.

  With a long jump, she landed before him and snared the hand with the knife.

  Lee made a play to grab her throat, but she caught his hand as it went for her. Locked together, they wrestled for control, pushing and pulling each other as they battled.

  Lee was strong, and as an elder, he had the power of mental manipulation. He pummeled her brain with it, alternately threatening and cajoling in an effort to dominate her.

  She forced his thoughts from her mind, concentrating instead on the physical as they struggled for the uppermost position. She didn’t know how much longer she could fight. She could already feel her body weakening as the drug obliterated the cells that gave her vampire strength.

  Lee sensed her waning energy and pressed onward, glee in his eyes as he realized she was losing the battle.

  Meghan used that sudden physical push forward to her advantage. She relaxed her hold on him and he became unbalanced and fell toward her. She slipped beneath his guard, encircling his head in her arms and sinking her fangs into his neck.

  Power quickly surged through her from the richness of his half vamp-half kiang-shi elder blood. The energy that immediate taste provided was enough for her to wrest control of the knife from him. Angrily she tossed the knife to the side and continued to feed.

  Lee fell forward onto the ground, taking her with him. He rolled, trapping her below him before rolling again in the hopes of dislodging her, but his rich vampire elder blood was providing her with too much strength. Strength that helped her retain her hold on him. She pushed off with her legs and rolled him beneath her once again, pinning him to the ground.

  Fighting for freedom, Lee tried to buck her off. He reared back with an elbow, catching her along the side of the head. Anger rose up in her at the pain of his blow. At the damage he had done to so many people in her life.

  As the kiang-shi’s blood flowing through her veins finally brought the sanguinarium drug under control, Meghan felt sanity slowly returned. One thought coalesced. Blake.

  She fell away from Lee, breathing heavily but able to master herself, just as Ryder and Diego came racing through the door of the office.

  She saw two angry-looking puncture wounds on Ryder’s neck where his shirt was torn open.

  Someone—or something—had slashed Diego’s chest through his jacket, and the gash on his face still oozed blood.

  Still, they were a welcome sight.

  As her friends took in Lee on the ground and the blood all over her, she knew they realized what had happened.

  Then as one, their gazes shifted to a spot behind her. As she tracked their gaze, she saw Blake, sitting drunkenly against the wall. His black T-shirt darkened from the blood he had lost. Dark cherry-colored blood pooled on the floor beside him. More blood dribbled down from the corner of his mouth. He sucked in a rough breath, and she heard the gurgle in his chest. He was drowning in his own lifeblood.

  “God, no,” she said, and rushed to his side, but she didn’t know what to do for him.

  He forced his lips into a semblance of his normally cocky smile. “You kicked his ass.”

  “Blake, please hold on.” She slipped her arm behind his back to hold him close. As she did so, the wetness of the blood he had lost registered sadly against the palm of her hand. As she took hold of his hand and noticed the savage bite marks at his wrist, she recalled what he had done for her. How he had offered himself in order to save her life.

  She could do no less.

  Offering him her wrist, she said, “Lee’s blood is rich in my veins. It may be enough—”

  “It isn’t,” he said with a raspy breath. Then he coughed, bringing up yet more blood.

  “Damn it, Blake,” she cried, and held his head to her. “You can’t leave me now.”

  “Don’t…want…to,” he somehow managed to say. But each word seemed weaker than the first to her, and his body sagged feebly against her.

  “Then feed,” she urged yet again.

  Chapter 25

  Everything he knew to be true was telling him that it was senseless to feed. He could no longer feel his body. All he could sense was a numbing cold in his center. That and the dampness along his back and side, and the metallic taste of his own blood in his mouth.

  “Feed,” she urged.

  He realized that she was holding him in her arms, cradling him to her heat.

  He gazed up at her
and tried to focus on her face. Slowly her features became sharp and distinct. He wanted to remember them. Take them with him wherever it was that he would soon go.

  The deep emerald of her eyes. The straight, pert nose and full lips. How those lips felt so wonderful when pressed against his. The soft skin of her cheek, smooth and silken.

  He wanted to touch that skin and tried to pick up his hand, but it wouldn’t answer his command, hanging uselessly beside him.

  Tears shimmered in her eyes and she softly urged once again, “Please feed, Blake. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Beneath his lips came the feel of the delicate skin of her inner wrist and the steady pulse that beat there. He imagined that it called to him, saying “Love me. Love me.”

  He did love her and as his gaze connected with hers, it occurred to him that she might just feel the same. After all this time, she finally loved him as he lay there dying. He realized how stupid it would be to not try to live and explore that glimmer of love in her eyes.

  Gently he bit through that fragile skin and fed. Her blood was rich with the kiang-shi’s, filled with energy and life, but the blood seemed to hardly make a difference. The barest trickle of heat began in his core, but it was like a candle in the wind. Erratic and uncertain. It blew out almost as soon as it had been kindled.

  He released her wrist and this time, had enough strength to pick up his hand and run his fingers along her cheek.

  “Sorry, luv. I wish we could have had more time.”

  “Shut up, Blake,” said a voice beside him and he glanced in its direction.

  Ryder was kneeling beside him. Diego was standing beyond him and had Lee all trussed up like a Christmas turkey.

  To Blake’s surprise, Ryder undid the cuff on his shirt and thrust it up impatiently. He shoved his arm in front of Blake’s face and said, “Don’t argue. Just do it already.”

  Blake knew how much it was costing the other vampire, who wasn’t one for sharing in vampire things. Because of that and because somewhere within him the spark had awakened once again, he didn’t argue. He bit into Ryder’s wrist and fed.

  This time that spark didn’t extinguish. It took hold firmly and slowly intensified.

  The cold was beginning to leave his body and sensation slowly returned to his arms and legs. The first thing that became rooted in his brain was the soft press of Meghan’s body against his as she held him. The tenderness in her arms as she cradled him.

  He also noted the slight tension that had entered the muscles of Ryder’s arm and knew it was time to let him go.

  Ryder pulled away abruptly and quickly covered up the sign of his feeding by dragging down his sleeve over the bite marks.

  Diego came next. He had discarded his suit and had already pulled back his sleeve. With a graceful brandish, he offered up his wrist, although Blake also understood the price of it. Just to make sure that his understanding was correct, Diego said, “If you survive, you’ll owe us big-time for this.”

  If he survived, Blake thought. Even as he fed from Diego’s blood, made richer by virtue of his age, he realized he was still incredibly weak. Maybe too weak.

  But he fed nevertheless, longer and harder than he had with Ryder, since the treat of blood so old and lush was hard to refuse. He fed until the spark of life within him grew into a persistent glow and then released his bite on the lordly vampire.

  Diego grunted something and then thrust Lee’s neck close. Lee’s head hung limply and as he gazed from Meghan to the other two vamps, he realized they had all taken their share of the Asian vampire. If he took his…

  Diego was the first to understand his hesitation. He jerked Lee’s body before him once again and said, “Take what you can. If he survives, the council will order his death.”

  He had no doubt about Diego’s statement. Lee had risked revealing their existence with his actions; he had put them all in danger. When the vampires in the area assembled for the council, the punishment would surely be death.

  As his gaze skittered to Meghan’s, she nodded her acceptance.

  He bit down on Lee’s neck and fed greedily, sucking down the potent mix of vampire and kiang-shi blood. Experiencing the surge of energy that it brought through his being.

  The glow within him burned ever brighter, and the fire spread through him, searing his back and side and even his heart, as his body slowly began to repair itself. Hope grew within him that maybe he might survive. That he might be able to explore the glimmer of caring he had seen in Meghan’s eyes that night.

  He fed until Diego finally commanded him to stop and jerked away Lee’s body. “As much as I’d love to see you drain him dry, it might be best to let him expire at the hands of our fellow vampires.”

  Expiring was a euphemism for what their fellow vampires would do to him, but Lee deserved all that pain and more, he thought.

  As he looked up at Meghan, he noticed her tears, but also the smile on her face as she said, “It’s time to take you home to heal.”

  Home, he thought. The home he had trashed in his misery, but Meghan didn’t give him a chance to warn her, nor was he in any condition to do anything about it.

  He was still so weak that he couldn’t stand, but Meghan had no such problem. She lifted him into her arms and with a hasty goodbye to the other two vamps, raced off into the night with him.

  Blake had never fully appreciated the sensation of their speed and agility, he thought. It was impossible not to wonder at it now as she cradled him against her and dashed through the night. The spring air was chilly against his skin and his blood-soaked clothes. He shivered in her arms and she tightened her hold on him, warming him with the heat of her vampire body.

  As they came to a stop, he could smell the spicy aroma of the trampled tomato plants and earthiness of the spilled soil.

  They were home. Or rather, they were at his home, but Meghan must have picked up on his thoughts since she said, “Our home, Blake.”

  He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb across the faint smile on her lips. “I should warn you, luv.”

  The smile broadened beneath his thumb. “You’re a shitty housekeeper,” she said. As she stepped through the French doors and into the space, he realized she had cleaned the mess and destruction he had left behind.

  “You shouldn’t have,” he said, but emotion engulfed him at her actions. At her caring.

  With that engaging smile on her face, she tenderly ministered to him, removing his clothes and wiping away the blood on his body. As she cleansed his back, the sting of her actions reminded him he had not completely healed. She used another of his T-shirts to fashion a bandage and bundled him into bed, since he was still too fragile to even sit up.

  But he was alive, he thought. Still, he was unprepared for what she did next.

  She stood by the opposite side of his bed and slowly undressed, baring all of herself to him. The full breasts with the rich caramel peaks. The toned muscles of her midsection with the perfect indent of her navel.

  He groaned from pain of a different kind as his body responded weakly to the sweetness of her form.

  She chuckled, and it was a sexy siren’s acknowledgment of her power. “Not yet, luv,” she teased, and picked up the edge of the clean sheets she had placed on his bed.

  She eased beneath them and to his side, lying along the length of him with one arm propping her head up so that she could look down at him. The other hand she placed on the center of his chest, right above his heart.

  “I was afraid to believe in you,” she whispered. “To believe you when that was all you asked of me.”

  He covered her hand with his. “Why, Meghan? All I wanted—”

  “Was my trust, but we both know it was about more than that.” She turned her hand, twined her fingers with his. “We both know it was about admitting that this was about more.”

  “This? Even now you can’t say it. Can’t admit that—”

  “I love you.” She said it without hesitation or pretense, shockin
g him with the admission.

  He knew what it had cost her, having known the price of rejection once too often in his own life. “Well, that’s good because I didn’t want to be the only one in this relationship who was in love.”

  She chuckled and leaned close, brushing her nose along his cheek as she said, “You love me.”

  He smiled, but it was weak as he felt his energy fading. “I do, Meghan. I love you, only I may have to wait a bit to show you.”

  She eased her arm beneath his head and snuggled down close to him. “Rest, Blake. You need some time to get stronger.”

  Time was something he had a lot of, he thought, as he allowed himself to slip off to slumber.

  Meghan watched as he released his hold on wakefulness. Only then did she allow the fear to emerge. They had almost died tonight. He was still incredibly weak, and she was certain it would take some time before he was fully recovered. Even vampires had their physical limits, and she suspected Blake had been on the edge of his.

  She allowed herself some rest, lying beside the hard muscular length of his body. Savoring the steadier beat of his heart. Sensing the subtle warmth of his skin, so far removed from the damp and chill that had earlier warned he had been near death.

  But as an hour or two passed, she registered the weakening of that beat and the slight chill to his skin. She was about to wake him to feed when she sensed the strong hum of vampire energy nearby.

  She eased from Blake’s side and as she rose, noticed the shadows out on the patio. A rich velvet throw sat on the ornate wooden chest at the end of the bed and she snagged it, wrapped it around herself.

  When she neared the doors, she realized it was Diego and Ryder out on the patio. Something else occurred to her at that moment. “Where’s Diana? Foley? Is he—”

  “Alive, but barely,” Diego said.

  “Diana is with him at the Blood Bank. We’re going to them next.” Ryder picked up the small cooler he held. “We thought you would need this.”