“Leila.” He lifted me up, leaning in so close that his hair formed a blackish-brown veil around us. “What—?”
He stopped when my arms fell away, revealing the bloody hole directly into my heart. A shockwave of emotion exploded from him, and the rebounding effects hit me with such force that I almost passed out.
“No,” he said, anguish choking the word. “No!”
His scream echoed through every part of me. Vlad clutched me while grief, panic, and despair howled through our bond. In the midst of the awful, clawing pain in my chest, I felt burning spots on my face that I didn’t understand until he drew away enough for me to see him.
Pink lines streaked his face. They had to be tears, but I hadn’t known that Vlad was capable of crying. I also had never seen the tiny orange droplets that now beaded on his skin before burning my clothes and anything else they touched.
He’s sweating fire, I realized, amazement threading through me even as death dragged me down farther into its grasp. I love you, I tried to say, but all that came out was a gasp.
So I stared at him, trying to concentrate on his face instead of the awful coldness overwhelming me. I loved the dark stubble on his jaw, the winged black brows framing his coppery-green eyes, and his masculine yet sensual mouth. I loved his long dark hair and the scars covering his hands, and most of all, I loved his fierce, beautiful soul. I wished I could tell him all of that, but speech was beyond me.
I love you, I thought again, trying to force the words into his mind. From the fresh wave of emotions that rolled over mine, he’d heard me. I love you, I repeated as my vision went black and everything else slipped away. Forever . . .
All of a sudden, that excruciating coldness vanished. My limbs began to flop as if belatedly following the frantic instructions I’d given them before. Vlad jerked back, his grief turning to incredulous relief as we both watched new, healing skin cover over the deep, blade-shaped hole in my chest.
Mircea must have pulled the knife out instead of twisting it. The knowledge that I wasn’t about to die filled me with such joy that I let out a choked laugh. Vlad shouted something in Romanian, then he kissed me, bruising my lips while more feelings tore through our connection.
“I love you, too.” His voice vibrated as he broke away to press searing kisses all over my face. “Forever.” He kissed me again before stopping far too soon.
“Get out,” he said in a very calm tone.
The sound of rapidly retreating footsteps made me aware that we hadn’t been alone in the room. Right, Vlad’s people would’ve felt his emotions the same way I had, and just moments ago, he’d been a maelstrom of grief and panic. Not surprisingly, that must’ve sent several of them running to see what was wrong.
Vlad’s relief continued to strafe my subconscious, yet now it was mixed with ever-growing fury. I felt him struggle to get control of it until he drew his inner shields up and blocked everything off. He let out a slow breath, and the droplets of flaming sweat that had burned little holes all over my dress disappeared from his skin. Yet his hands remained scorching hot as he reached out to touch my face.
“That was close,” I said in a shaky voice.
“Too close.”
Even with the iron control he was exercising, he couldn’t keep the fury from his voice. I’d be furious at Mircea later, too, but at the moment, I was too grateful to be alive to be mad at the viciousness of his last attack.
Vlad’s shields were up, yet I didn’t need our tie to know that he was still ping-ponging between relief and killing rage. Waves of energy kept spilling from him, and his scent changed from smoky cinnamon to something that smelled more like a forest fire. I was concerned that he was on the verge of spontaneously combusting. While that was normally a figure of speech, he was a centuries-old pyrokinetic vampire with staggering abilities and an equally impressive temper, so for Vlad, that was a real possibility.
“You need to power down,” I said. “You leveled this house once, and you just finished putting in the new fourth floor.”
His quick smile smoothed some of the harshness from his face, but I knew better than to believe the crisis was over.
“Vlad,” I began again.
“I’m fine, but you’re too weak to keep talking,” he said.
I would’ve argued, but I felt almost as tired as I’d been when I was a brand-new vampire and the sunrise rendered me unconscious. That’s why I didn’t protest when he carried me to the bed, barking out an order in Romanian at the same time.
Somewhere down the hall, I heard footsteps scurry to obey. Vlad had ordered his people out of our room, but they obviously hadn’t gone far. By the time he’d set me down on the bed and smoothed my hair away from my face, the captain of Vlad’s guard, Samir, had already returned with three bags full of blood.
I flashed a limp smile of thanks at Samir. He and I had gotten to be friends over the past several months. When I bit into the first bag, that red liquid hit my veins like a jolt of pure caffeine, reviving my strength and making me feel merely half dead instead of circling the grave like I had before. The second bag was even better, chasing the lingering haziness from my mind. After the third, I felt almost normal again.
Vlad stared at me, green flaring around the rich copper shade of his irises. “Better?”
I nodded, leaning back against the pillows. Vlad turned to Samir. “Check all the perimeter sensors, then double the guards. This might have been used as a tactical distraction.”