Well, apparently that day had arrived.
She charged the vampire, her fists balled up tight. She wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen until her knuckles connected with the side of his pretty head. She landed a solid blow on his temple that was hard enough to knock his mouth away from Cain’s arm. Blood seeped from the wounds.
The vampire rose to his feet, anger and hunger making the gaunt angles of his face stand out in stark detail.
Rory shoved him back away from Cain and lifted her fists. “Want to go another round, pretty boy?”
He stared at her in shock for a moment. A frown creased his brow, and he gave his head a little shake. Suddenly, the pale blue light in his eyes winked out and he lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I lost my head there for a moment.”
He moved toward Cain, but Rory shifted to block his path. “Stay back.”
“I need to heal his wounds and restore some of what I took from him.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. You’ve done enough.”
“It’s okay, Rory,” said Cain from behind her. “Ronan is himself again.”
“Who the fuck was he a minute ago, then? ’Cause I’d like to kick that asshole in the junk.”
“You have every reason to be suspicious, but I assure you that I’m no longer out of control. I also promise that if we don’t get all this blood cleaned up, demons will find us soon.”
There was that.
Cain pushed himself to his feet. The look he gave Rory was a combination of pride and humiliation. “Thank you for stepping in.”
“Yes,” said Ronan. “I’m sorry you had to interfere, but I’m glad you were here to do so.”
“So what the hell was that all about?” she asked.
“I was hungry. Cain fed me.”
Blood. The word went unspoken, but it hovered there, in the cool, damp air, painfully obvious.
“Is the fire going?” asked Cain. He still looked pale and shaky, but at least he was on his feet, which was a big improvement.
“Yeah. Someone had already laid in the logs and stuff. I just had to light the kindling.”
“Good. We need to burn away all traces of blood.” Cain started to strip the bloody pillowcase from the pillow, but Rory stopped him.
“I’ll do that,” she said, taking the pillow away from Cain. “You sit down before you fall over, and put some pressure on your wrist.” She pointed her finger at Ronan. “And you keep your teeth to yourself.”
He was way too pretty to be trusted. In fact, he reminded her of Logan, with his perfect features and his sleek, streamlined muscles. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and there was a bit of stubble riding his jaw—just enough to accentuate the perfect little indent in his chin.
Ronan’s gaze lingered at her throat for a minute, and she saw what he saw flash in her mind, complete with the pretty, pulsing, shimmering band around her neck. It was darker than it had been before, with more purple than pink running through it.
“Don’t even think about her blood,” rumbled Cain in warning. “She’s off-limits.”
“Of course,” said Ronan, but his tone made it sound more like the answer to a challenge than acceptance. “May I see to your wrist?”
Cain held his arm up, but he wasn’t looking at Ronan. His gaze was fixed on Rory, making her squirm. There was something different in his expression now—a kind of new awareness, as if he were seeing her in a different light.
Ronan pressed his fingers against the teeth marks in Cain’s wrist, and a second later, his skin was whole again, with only a few smears of blood to prove anything had ever happened.
“Wow. That’s handy,” said Rory.
“My debt is paid now,” said Cain. “Tell Logan that the next time you talk to him.”
Ronan gave Cain a formal little bow of his head. “Of course. And thank you for coming.”
“We’re not out of the woods yet. You still have blood on your face. We need the place cleansed of all scents. Rory is new to her power, and I won’t put her at risk.”
“You know, the way you guys talk about me like I’m not here is irritating as hell.” She grabbed the bloody fabric and marched upstairs to burn it. When she turned around, Cain was standing there, a bloody washcloth in his hand.
He added it to the flames, and she could see that his hand was shaking. “I’m sorry about that—about talking past you, about making you see Ronan lose control.”
“Why aren’t you more freaked out by it?”
Cain lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “We’re all weak sometimes. Ronan can’t help what he is any more than I can. I know what it’s like to feel out of control. Rubbing his nose in his mistake will only make his life harder. And I assure you, it’s hard enough.”
“And what about your life? You’re shaking, your skin is pale, and you look a little unsteady on your feet. If demons smell the blood and come here, you’re not going to be in any shape to swing that big ol’ sword around.”
“I’ll manage. I’ve been weaker than this before and survived.”
“She’s right,” said Ronan from the stairway. “Rory’s life is precious. You need to be able to keep her safe.” The blood was washed off his face, leaving him even more beautiful than before.
She turned to face him, irritation grating along her nerves. “Rory has a gun. She can keep herself safe.”
Ronan had the balls to smile at her. “You are delightful. Have we met before?”
“No.” She was fairly sure she would have remembered a man like him if she’d so much as seen him walk down the street.
“You smell . . . familiar.”
“Smell?” She turned to Cain in humiliated horror. “Do I smell?”
“You smell lovely,” said Cain, his voice so rough with desire she had to press her thighs together around a pulse of raw need.