Dead Sexy

White-faced with fear, the woman scrambled backward, firing blindly as she went. The first shot missed, as did the second, and then the wolf was on her.

With a roar, Vasile swatted the weapon from Zina's hand. He was about to rip out her throat when a black wolf burst through the window in a spray of broken glass.

Vasile turned to meet his new attacker, a wolfish grin on his face as he recognized the intruder.

Hackles bristling, fangs bared, the two wolves circled each other, oblivious to everything but putting an end to the centuries-old feud between them.

Regan stared at the gun that was lying only inches from her hand. She needed a gun, but she couldn't remember why. She looked at the blood running down her arm. It seemed a shame for all that blood to go to waste. Too bad Santiago wasn't here… She looked at the weapon again. She owned a gun… she wanted to kill Vasile. It was important for her to kill him, but again, she couldn't remember why.

She glanced at the wolves. They were still fighting ferociously. Both were splattered with blood. The fair-haired one was limping; blood oozed from a deep cut on its foreleg. The black one was also bleeding from several places.

The wolves parted for a moment. Breathing heavily, tongues lolling, they growled at each other.

Regan looked at the fair-haired wolf. He had bitten her. And now she was dying from the wound he had inflicted on her. With all the energy at her command, she reached for the gun. It was heavy, so heavy. She dragged it closer, her finger curling around the trigger. Using both hands, she summoned the last of her energy and lifted the weapon. It was too late for her, she thought dully, but she intended to make sure that Vasile sired no more werewolves.

As if divining her thoughts, he turned to look at her, his eyes filled with savage hatred.

She didn't flinch. Meeting his gaze, she squeezed the trigger and shot him right between the eyes.

He stood there a moment and then he dropped to the floor. There was a charge in the air, like electricity before a storm. The fair-haired wolf shimmered and then it was gone and Vasile lay in its place, a neat round hole between his sightless eyes.

It was over.

The gun fell from Regan's hand. With the last of her energy, she looked at the black wolf. Tears filled her eyes. He had come to save her, she thought, but it was too late. Too late.

"I… love… you," she whispered, and then, with a sigh of resignation, she closed her eyes and waited for death.

With a harsh cry of denial, Santiago shifted to his own form. Kneeling beside Regan, he drew her into his lap. Her face was drained of color. Blood continued to ooze from the terrible gaping wound in her throat. He started at it in horror. So much blood.

Hardly aware of the other woman, who had gained her feet and was now backing into a corner, Santiago gathered Regan into his arms and carried her to the bed. After placing her on it, he ripped the top sheet into strips. He folded one into a thick pad and placed it over the ugly wound in her neck, then he used one of the other strips to hold it in place. He muttered an oath when blood quickly soaked through the makeshift bandage.

She needed a doctor, he thought desperately, and they were miles from civilization, miles from a hospital.

Cursing softly, he swaddled her in a blanket and then, gathering her into his arms, he went outside. A crowd had gathered around the front of the house but he paid them no heed. With all the preternatural speed at his command, he carried her to the nearest village. It cost him precious time to find a doctor. The man took one look at Regan and got to work.

After laying her on a metal table covered with a white sheet, the doctor unwrapped the bandage from her throat. He looked up at Santiago through narrowed eyes. "Did you do this?"

"No."

"Do you know her blood type?"

"A negative."

"What type are you?"

Santiago hesitated a moment, then said, "O."

"Sit down and roll up your sleeve."

Santiago shook his head. "I cannot…"

"Do you want her to live?" the doctor demanded brusquely. "Then do as I say. We have no time to waste."

Muttering an oath, Santiago sat on the chair beside the bed. How would his blood affect Regan?

Would it kill her? Taken via a transfusion, it wouldn't turn her into a vampire, but what would it do? And what would the doctor say if he knew whose blood he was about to take?

Santiago clenched his fist as the doctor prepared to take his blood. Watching, he couldn't help but laugh inwardly at the thought of a vampire donating blood to a mortal woman. Surely it was a first!

"Is she going to be all right?" Santiago asked, though how anyone could survive such a terrible wound was beyond his comprehension.

"Only time will tell."

The doctor slapped a bandage on his arm. "I will need to stitch her. You can wait outside."

"No."

"Yes. Go."

With a curt nod, Santiago left the room. As much as he longed to stay, he needed to feed, needed to replace the blood he had lost.

Leaving the doctor's office, he ghosted down the dark streets in search of prey.

She was lost in a dark fog. No matter where she went, no matter how she searched, she couldn't find what she was looking for, couldn't find the light. Her body felt weak, adrift. Lost.

Was this death? Had her spirit left her body? Did one have to search for heaven?

Or, oh horrible thought, had killing Vasile condemned her to hell? She refused to accept that. Vasile had been a monster. Surely killing him was a good thing!

Why couldn't she find the way out?

Why couldn't she find him?

She tried to call his name but the words wouldn't come and then she remembered that he was a monster, too, and that she shouldn't want him, shouldn't love him. She wished that they had made love. Right or wrong, it was her one regret.

"Joaquin." His name formed in her mind. Had she said it aloud? She wanted Joaquin, wanted him to hold her hand and promise her that everything would be all right. They would find the shaman and he would cure her… but then she remembered that the shaman was dead.

"Pahin Sapa? Are you there? Is anybody there?"

She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were heavy, so heavy. When she tried to move, she felt a sharp, burning pain in her neck where Vasile had bitten her.

But he was dead now, and so was she. So many things she would never be able to do. She would never see her family again, never have a family of her own, never see Santiago…Joaquin, Joaquin! She loved him, but the world was growing darker…

Santiago stood at Regan's bedside. Her complexion was deathly pale, her breathing shallow, her heartbeat faint and thready. He looked up at the doctor, unwilling to believe what his eyes were seeing.