Vampire Mistress

They are attacking your servant. He needs you. If you do not fight them, they will take him.

That last part did it. She might give up her own soul, but she wouldn't give up another's. Unable to do anything more than stand on the sidelines and watch, he saw her spirit straighten and snarl like a lioness awakened by the cry of her cub.

While under normal circumstances he might be offended by the image of himself as that cub, he was immersed in her transformation. He experienced firsthand the astounding, superhuman—hell, supervampire—effort it took for her to seize back control. If it had translated to a physical effort, tendons would have snapped; organs would have overloaded from the strain.

But she was doing it. Still, a second-mark could give a vampire some strength, though it wasn't the same as a third-mark. Hell, he was likely dying, so he might as well give her what he could. Instinctively, not sure how he knew what he was doing, he threw open the doorway to his mind and let that energy pour out to her. When she seized it inside of her head, it looked like tendrils of crimson light wrapping around a small, brain-sized icon of herself, fortifying her like a form of blood. Her shrinking form in the middle of the shadows became infused with light, a black and red fearsome priestess whose essence expanded, took control. Though she gave a terrible snarl of fury and desolation, hinting at the agony of effort it was taking, she shoved the monsters back into the shadows.

Had it taken minutes, or hours? He didn't know. All he knew was he was still on the ground. Anwyn's mouth was on those puncture wounds, urgently laving them so they would clot, putting pressure on the other ones. When she accidentally gripped his shoulder, he gave an involuntary grunt of pain, and her hand withdrew. Vaguely, he recognized she was shaking all over, and his face was wet with her tears.

Give him the mark, Anwyn.Daegan's insistent voice.He has asked for it. He will heal more quickly that way.

Daegan . . . you need to come help her.Gideon knew what dying looked like, felt like, because he'd seen it often enough. He'd be gone soon. It was Anwyn that concerned him. Her expression was stark pain, eyes hollow and haunted.

How could he have been so stupid? Her periods of strength, her amazing ability to survive such a terrible ordeal, had been cocooned in those underground rooms, cushioned against facing how her control had changed. Now, faced with it, the sheer enormity of what she'd lost was upon her, a worse enemy than any other she could face.

It's bad blood, awful blood. I don't . . . I can't.

“It's the only blood I want,” Gideon said hoarsely, trying to hold her attention. He wanted to put a hand on her face, but he was too weak or his spine was snapped.

Instead she shoved herself to her feet, stumbled back. “No. I've . . . Great Goddess, look what I've done to him. I thought I was all right. I was sure of it . . . I'll never be in control again. I can't live like this. I'm sorry, Gideon . . . I can't—Daegan, come help him.” Her fists clenched, her voice full of pain, face a distorted mask, even more horrible than when the shadow creatures had controlled her, because this was her turned inside out, all her raw, deepest emotions naked and trembling before Gideon's straining gaze. “I can't help anyone. You shouldn't have saved me. Neither of you.” Gideon tried his best to grab her, and found he had one weakly functioning arm. She was gone, the door open.Daegan, she's running. Go after her.

I will.

Then he remembered. It was still broad daylight.

24

SHE was headed for the alley, and thank all the gods she was too upset and too new to her powers to move at full vampire speed. Daegan held on to her mind as if he were a fish she'd hooked, the barbed edges of her thoughts puncturing him and dragging him through the chaos of her mind. As he burst from the underground rooms, he took the side hallways so quickly his presence was felt but not seen, a rush of cold air that shivered through the waitstaff, maintenance and security people he passed. He snatched a radio from one, earning a startled yelp, and barked into it. “James.” James came on immediately. “Yeah.”

“Privacy room three. Gideon needs help, but do not call an ambulance. Do what you can for him. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Dropping the radio, he hit the side door and automatically shielded his eyes against the sunlight hitting the brick wall of the next building. She'd returned to a place she never would have wanted to see again.

Traces of her blood or clothing probably still remained in this hated alley. Quickly evaluating the scene, he saw several cats grouped in the corner near the Dumpster.

The sun's angle seared his shoulder, but he dodged and moved along the shadows of this building.

Despite the fact it wasn't direct sun, to a fledgling it would feel like a searing-hot wind, threatening to burn her flesh off her bones. He heard her cries. Rage and something deeper had him shoving the Dumpster away from the wall. She was curled in a fetal ball behind it in garbage, a kitten standing on her hip, meowing plaintively. When he caught her up in his arms, kitten and all, he ignored her painful scream as his arms tightened over her, rubbing her clothes over her sensitized skin. The kitten jumped free and in two blinks, Daegan was back inside the door, holding her against his heart, which was thundering in his chest.

He didn't trust himself to speak, but took her back to her rooms at the same speed, so their passage would not be noted. When he reached the apartment, he strode directly to the cell, put her down on the sofa. She curled into the couch, away from him.

Should have let me die.

He was on his way back out of the cell, but her broken, repeated whisper was too much. Everything he'd been feeling in the past few days, unable to accept or share with her, was too much. With a snarl, he spun back to the couch, caught her hair in his fist and yanked her head back, lifting her half off the couch so she had to face him.

She'd never feared him. He'd always been amazed and reassured by it at once, never sought to test or change it. But facing his full, unfettered wrath, he saw she finally understood why it was smart to be afraid of him. Anyone with sense would realize swords or guns were the least hazardous thing about him.

“If you ever,ever say anything like that again to me, Anwyn Inara Naime, I will chain you to that fucking cross and blister the skin from your back with a tawser, far past when you are begging me to stop. I may still do it. You are alive. You are loved. Youwill get through this. That's the end of it.” He gave her a quick once-over, knew she was in pain, but the skin was already knitting. “You stay right here. Remember that I can be here faster than anything you can do to yourself. If you try to hurt yourself again, you will truly know what suffering is.”

He left her wide-eyed, like a terrified, chastised child in truth. Slamming the cell door shut, he locked it and the apartment and headed topside, ignoring the ache in his throat, in his chest. He made it to that privacy room in a matter of seconds, startling the hostess coming down the hallway when he suddenly appeared at her side. “James asked me to bring this,” she faltered, handing out the first aid kit.

“Thank you,” Daegan said. “I will take it to him. Go back to your work.” She fled, not questioning why this male she didn't know was giving her orders. But then, he expected nothing less. He shouldered into the room, which was too small with the three large men in it.

Holy Mother. He'd been focused on Anwyn, knowing Gideon was badly hurt, but now he saw the extent of it, understood why Gideon hadn't been concerned about himself. Not that the man had ever possessed much of a sense of self-preservation. His body was broken in too many places, and he lay in blood that seemed to be mainly from his ripped throat. The second mark and his own clumsy efforts had slowed the loss of arterial blood, but he was still in an astonishingly large pool of it. James had wisely not moved him, but seeing Gideon sprawled, his arm still stretched toward the door as if trying to stop her, made the whole scenario harder to swallow.

He squatted, nodded to James. “I'll take it from here.”

The security man knew enough to be wary, but Daegan gave him credit for the balls to ask after his employer. “Is she all right?”

“Yes.”For now. Until I get my hands on her again. But Daegan gave a short nod. “Thank you, James.

You are a credit to her, and to this place. In a few minutes, send someone discreet to clean up the room.

I'll call from downstairs if we need you.”

The man left with visible reluctance, but some relief as well. Daegan ignored it. No one felt comfortable around him on a good day, and this one was far from that. Gideon grunted. He didn't move his head, and Daegan was fairly sure it was because he couldn't. “Don't be pissed off at her,” he rasped. “It was my fault.”

“No, it wasn't. It was mine.”All of it.

“Bullshit.” But Gideon obviously didn't have the energy to pursue it. “I'm going to be dead in a few minutes.” His eyes closed. “Go help her. She needs you. Especially since I'm not going to be around to take up the slack for you.”

Daegan ignored him, taking a quick assessment of his injuries. The back of his skull had a soft spot the size of his fist. His lips compressed. The fact the hunter wasn't protesting being touched by him was an even greater indication of how wounded he was. He seemed uninterested in anything but the last thoughts stumbling through his mind.

“Do what you n-need to do with my body, but l-let my brother know I'm gone. Dress it up a little . . .'kay? Make me sound . . . heroic. Like I rescued a busload of handicapped orphans . . . puppies. That way . . . won't think . . . should have been here. Save me from myself. Irish Catholic guilt . . .” He coughed, and blood flecked his lips, breath rattling in his throat. His eyes were glazing in a way that Daegan was not going to tolerate.

“Gideon.” He put as much command in his voice as he'd delivered when he'd roared in Anwyn's mind.

While this was a lower decibel, it was no less emphatic. Gideon's eyes opened, swiveled to him.

“I'm going to take you to her, and she's going to take care of her servant, the way she's supposed to. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">