Authors: Abby Blake
Finally the woman swallowed, her color returning slightly as she began sucking hard against Benjamin’s wrist. The man paled, his usual ruddy health suddenly replaced by a sickly, gray pallor. He pulled his wrist away as his knees wobbled, but the woman groaned and immediately lost consciousness.
“She needs too much,” Benjamin said breathlessly. “The bastards drained her and left her for dead.”
Samuel nodded to his friend’s unspoken plea, licked the woman’s neck where her blood still spilled, and then bit into his own wrist. He pressed it against the woman’s mouth. Almost immediately she began to suck, dragging his life force into her.
After a moment she became less frantic and instead caressed his wrist with her tongue as she drank his blood. Relieved to realize that the woman was going to survive, Samuel finally took a good look at the newly made vampire in his best friend’s arms. She wasn’t beautiful in a classic sense, but she was very attractive in a wholesome sort of way. It was obvious by her conservative clothes and lack of makeup that she wasn’t really part of the nightclub scene they’d just exited.
He touched a finger to her face, smiling when her eyes fluttered open and a look of pure contentment settled on her face. Considering what she’d most likely been through tonight, he hoped that this moment of joy as she began the change from human to vampire would help her through the difficulties to come. Even with the benefit of a couple hundred years’ experience, he still found dealing with violent, senseless murders disturbing.
Alex pressed a warm cup filled with human blood into Samuel’s hand and handed the other to Benjamin. Samuel smiled gratefully at the club owner hovering by the door. Apparently he catered to more than just the cocktail-swilling humans dancing in his club. Samuel just hoped he was sourcing his human blood legally.
“We’ll take care of this,” Alex said, glancing around the disturbing scene. It wouldn’t do any good to let humans find evidence of the woman’s murder. Even if they did figure out what had happened and who had done it, they were unprepared for what they would face if they caught up with the killer. “Take your fledgling back to the motel. We’ll meet you there in a couple hours.”
Samuel nodded, drained the cup, and handed it back to Alex.
Your fledgling
—now there were two words he’d never expected to hear in the same sentence.
* * * *
Skye woke cradled in a man’s arms, sucking lazily on the flesh pressed against her lips. Disorientated, she tried to move away, but the man who held her squeezed tighter.
“No,” he said in a voice that she wanted to instantly obey, “you need more. Drink, baby girl.”
Too tired to argue, Skye swallowed the thick liquid, surprised that she liked the taste. It was salty and had a metallic sort of tang. It was nothing like her usual choice of drink but for some reason seemed like ambrosia sliding down her throat.
She sucked a little longer, caressing the flesh with her tongue as she finally realized the incredible intimacy of her position. She lay cradled against the man’s chest, another man’s wrist pressed against her mouth, her clothes torn, someone’s blood flowing into her, making her stronger, healing her pain.
Blood?
Panicked, she pulled away, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. What the hell was wrong with her? Flashes of what had happened earlier sped through her brain, and she cried out when she remembered the red-haired woman. She tried to lift her head to look around, but the man held her tighter, using his other hand to press her face against his chest.
“You’re safe now. Just breathe, baby girl.”
“We need to move,” another voice said, scaring the hell out of her.
Nearly catatonic with her fear, it was only the fact that both voices were different to those of the men who’d attacked her that allowed her to ask in a raspy voice, “Wh–Who are y–you?”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re the good guys.”
As appealing as it was to lie back and believe the man’s reassurance, too many creepy things had happened tonight for her to trust blindly. Swallowing her fear with difficultly, Skye tried once again to look around the area, but the man wouldn’t let her lift her head.
“Not now, baby girl,” the man said as he started moving.
“The other woman?” she asked without really wanting to know the answer. It was clear by their attackers’ behavior that the redhead hadn’t been expected to survive.
“I’m sorry,” the second man said, his thumb caressing her cheek softly. “We weren’t fast enough to save her.” Tears flowed freely down Skye’s face, as the grief for the terrified young woman overwhelmed all other thoughts. The man simply held her closer and let her cry.
* * * *
Torn between caring for the woman, who was now a fledgling vampire, and needing to salvage their mission, Benjamin looked to Thomas for help. Thomas, the asshole, smiled, shrugged, and then headed back into the club. The rest of their team would have entered the building by now, but unless the other eight vampires inside were involved in this attack as well, it was a good chance that they were simply innocent bystanders. One of them may even be the source of their anonymous tip-off. Without that untraceable e-mail they wouldn’t have even been in the area.
The woman was still crying, the sobs softer now, but the grief still very obvious.
Finally conceding to the only course of action possible, Benjamin turned toward the hotel where they were staying and started walking before deciding it was dark enough to use his preternatural speed. Samuel was right beside him.
The young woman was very obviously the victim of a violent attack. With her clothes torn, her neck, shoulders, and hair all covered in blood, and her face streaked with dirt and tears, she was very likely to attract attention. The streets were fairly empty, but he didn’t want to chance being stopped by curious pedestrians or maybe even human police, so he used his natural talents to get there as fast as possible.
Once he had the door closed, he glanced around the room and wondered what his next course of action should be. Rescuing damsels in distress wasn’t usually part of his mission, and changing said damsel into a vampire had never been part of his plan. He tried to convince himself that his decision had been purely practical—she’d most likely be able to identify her attackers—but a small voice inside called him a liar. His reaction had been based on emotion rather than logic. The other woman’s murder had been sickening. His frustration and guilt that they’d been too late meant that he’d eagerly grabbed the chance to save this woman. But he was damned if he’d admit any of that out loud.
“Where?” the woman asked in a tiny voice. She was obviously very tired. Benjamin barely remembered details of his own change so many decades ago, but his sire had told him afterward that he’d pretty much slept for three days and nights straight.
“We’re in a hotel room not far from the nightclub where we found you.”
“We?” she asked, sounding too tired to be nervous.
“Samuel and me. Thomas and Alex will be here soon. Unless they manage to track down the ones who hurt you, and then I hope they take their sweet time. Did you know the red-haired woman?”
She shook her head, but tears leaked out of her eyes once more. “I–I…I couldn’t stop them.”
“It’s okay, baby girl. There’s nothing you could have done.”
“Wanted to,” she said on a half sob. His heart ached for her. It was likely that her attackers had made it seem she left with them on her own free will. He knew from witness accounts that being compelled by a vampire was a terrifying experience. It was why he used that particular skill very sparingly and then only to nudge a person’s natural reaction rather than control it.
Benjamin followed Samuel into the bathroom. They needed to get the woman cleaned up so that they could tuck her into one of the beds and let her sleep, but she seemed in no condition to shower without help. Her eyes were closed and for a moment he was distracted by her pale features. She’d barely had enough blood left for him and Samuel to mix with their own, but it seemed between the two of them they’d managed to complete the process. The ragged wounds on her neck were already beginning to heal.
“Baby girl, your clothes are ripped and covered in blood. We’re going to help you get cleaned up.” He lowered her feet to the tiled floor and let her lean against him for balance. He glanced at her left hand, glad to notice the absence of a wedding ring. “Can you lift your arms?”
She lifted her arms elbows first, but it was obvious by her soft groan that the action pulled at the wounds at her neck. Making a decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret, Benjamin grabbed the collar of her shirt and very carefully tore the material from neck to waist. Samuel pushed the bloodied material down her arms, and Benjamin turned his attention to her pants. They’d been torn in several places and even as he tried to preserve the material he realized that she’d never be able to wear them again. Eventually, he did the same as he’d done to her shirt, tearing the material until it fell away from her.
He’d hoped to be able to at least save her underwear, and thereby her dignity, but the stains had gone right through to her bra and panties.
“What’s your name, baby girl?” He probably should have asked much earlier, but there was still a part of him trying to deny the attraction he felt for the pretty blonde. At least by not knowing her name he’d been able to mentally keep an emotional distance between them. Of course the fact that he was one of her sires meant that they were already connected. Still, it seemed appropriate to ask the woman’s name before suggesting she allow him to remove her underwear.
She was very tired, and maybe hiding her embarrassment behind it, but she managed to mumble “Skye Hastings” without actually opening her eyes.
“Well, Skye Hastings, I wish we’d met under better circumstances, but I was hoping it would be okay to remove your underwear before we step into the shower.”
* * * *
Before
we
step into the shower? We?
The meaning of that sentence finally penetrated the fog in Skye’s brain and she forced herself to open her eyes and look around. The fact that she was already down to her underwear was a little disconcerting, but it was the dirty, smelly, blood-stained state of the clothing that hit her hardest.
She glanced at what was once a soft, purple lace trim on her bra and shuddered in revulsion. She’d always hated blood, but finding herself covered in it was pretty much her worst nightmare. Maybe it was the years she’d spent working as a receptionist for a doctor, but she had an almost obsessive aversion to the stuff. Without giving any thought to the stranger holding her up or the one standing beside her, she reached behind her back, undid the clasp and dropped the material to the ground. A quick glance at her panties, and they hit the floor as well. She turned to the shower without consciously noticing that she was in an unfamiliar bathroom, but felt her knees give out as she tried to step into the stall.
“Whoa, baby girl, hold on for just one more minute.”
She growled her annoyance at the delay but sagged gratefully in the other man’s hold as he set the water running and then helped her stand under the spray. The first man stepped in behind her, pulling her close as he washed away the putrid feeling. She sighed as he angled her head under the spray and tipped a sweet-smelling shampoo into her hair.
Skye held on to the waistband of his soaked pants as he massaged the fragrant bubbles through her hair. When he’d rinsed and then combed conditioner through her hair, he grabbed the shower gel and cleaned her all over. She felt his body react when he cleaned her more private areas, but he washed her quickly and efficiently without acknowledging his body’s needs.
Clean and smelling far more pleasant, Skye let him wrap her in a towel and lift her into the other man’s arms. The first guy quickly shredded his own wet clothing, wrapped a towel around his waist, and followed her and the other guy into the main room.
She smiled sleepily as the one holding her pulled back the blankets on one of the beds and tucked her in. None of it seemed real—not the shower, the dark alley, the men who’d attacked her, the woman who’d died so quietly… Panic streaked through her and she reached for his hand as he went to move away.