Houston’s next words ached. “She could die.”
“She
will
die if I do not complete it.” Diego matched him ache for ache. He knew the chances, the risks.
Houston’s eyes blazed. “You better hope she is alive and well when we get there.”
“If she is not, then killing me would be a relief in itself.” With that final acceptance, he launched into the air, coursing toward his home.
Diego bled inside. His heart was crying. Titania was dying in his arms. It was well after midnight by the time he walked through his own front door. It closed with an audible slap, his anger and fear clawing through him incessantly.
Her breathing was dangerously slow with her heart working but erratic. Tenorio had overdosed her. In her weakened state, it was having a catastrophic effect on her. Diego virulently cursed the man, but restrained the full power of his fury for their next meeting. Diego would find Tenorio, and then the man would know true terror, true power.
Laying Titania on his bed, he focused his entire being on her survival. She had to live. It became a decree. Outraged by the condition of her clothing, he removed them from her body with loving hands, dressing her in one of his long silk shirts instead.
He sank to the edge of the bed to pull her onto his lap, whispering to her ceaselessly. She remained unaware. He wound the silken weight of her hair through shaking fingers. Knowing what he must do was slowly killing him. Strength. When he needed it, he was trembling.
“Forgive me, love.”
Diego kissed her lips and damned himself. He drifted to her cheek and cursed what he was. He found the warmth of her neck and damned Brakka.
Her pulse lay right beneath his lips, the repulsive odor of drugs mixed with her own scent. The drugs would not harm him, but without help, she would die. A doctor could do nothing for her now. Recriminations were useless with hell only a kiss away.
He scraped his teeth over her pulse, encouraging his incisors to do this. His arms were tender, his hold loving when his teeth broke through her skin.
Diego’s eyes drifted closed, her taste so rich to him. He whispered in his mind, wanting to reach her. Craving her like no other.
Please, cara. Come back to me. I need you. Do not leave me alone again.
He drank from her, listening with his entire will for any sign of things going wrong. Her heart labored more with the blood loss. He swept his tongue over his mark, healing the pinpricks.
“
Cara
, listen to me. You must live.” He thrust his mind into hers, claiming her without hesitation. The drugs had already started to infiltrate her system, destroying her. He needed to complete the exchange. She needed to go through the transition to strip the toxins from her system. Without at least this chance,
this one chance,
if the drug remained in her system, she would be dead by the next rising.
He cradled her head delicately in his palm. He sliced a wound in his chest, cleansed blood forming to drip at the lowest point. “Titania,” he groaned, pleaded, letting his life flow between her lips. She gagged and he changed position, working her throat until she convulsively swallowed.
There was no hurry to his actions. Remorse no longer had a place within his heart. He had done this. He had no choice but to see it through to the end. And if she hated him for it, she could, but he would never leave her alone again. He could not.
His actions had bound her to him irrevocably. If she died, he could only pray Houston took mercy and made his death quick.
Titania swallowed more, and Diego curled protectively around her. His eyes were closed, his palm curved possessively against her throat, encouraging her sips, when the unaided wisp of her lips penetrated the wild tumble of his manic thoughts. He brushed strands of hair away from her features, seeing a faint pink start to color her cheeks. “Take me as I am,
cara
,” he whispered into her ear. He groaned when her mouth moved over him naturally.
After several minutes of agonized torture, he slid a finger under her chin, tilting to meet his lips. He swept his tongue across her mouth, then delved. “Stay with me. Stay with me long enough to forgive me.” He continued to nuzzle her, waiting.
Her lashes fluttered. “Diego?”
Tentative joy constricted his chest. He dared to hope, even though he feared the coming hours until dawn. “Yes, love. You are safe.”
“Where am I?” Her eyes were glassy and she squinted, trying to focus. “Why do I feel so weird?”
“You are at my home.” He pressed his cheek to her head. “Tenorio drugged you. He did not know about your health. He overdosed you.”
“I can’t move. I don’t feel like myself.” Her voice was thready, a touch of fear beginning to vibrate through her words. Chaos flooded her thoughts.
“It was the drug. It will pass soon.”
He watched her closely for the first signs. Her lashes fluttered closed once more, her breathing easier, spurred by the blood transfusion, no matter how unorthodox. It was her only hope, and he still prayed as he scrutinized her for every and any sign. He brushed a thumb across her brow when she frowned.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
His gaze widened. The last thing she needed to do was apologize. “For?”
“Making you leave. Getting into trouble again.” A slow inhale proved she was improving, with the worst to come. “For everything.”
“
Cara
.” It was torn from his chest. He had destroyed her life, her future. “I do not deserve you.” He rocked her until the first spasm struck.
Muscles clenched without warning, tightened her frame within his arms, her body pulling in on itself. Her eyes snapped open, fear making their midnight depths their brightest yet. “What’s happening?”
“Breathe,
cara
. It will pass. Breathe.”
Her head jerked, and her gaze clung to his. The terror in those blue eyes knifed him through the heart. “Help me,” she cried.
“I did,
cara
. The only way I knew how.”
She moaned, her eyes closing once again as heat grabbed her in merciless shackles. Her skin burned to the touch now. She convulsed, wrapping her arms over her stomach. “Diego!”
He cradled her closer as a violent tremor ripped through her. Her head whipped above her shoulders, her body arching as a scream split the quiet of the room. It was only the beginning as he watched her body fight the conversion with the blood he had given her.
She slammed down into his hold, twisting and writhing in agony. Her eyes were open, unseeing, clouded with pain. He knew the pain she was going through and would have given anything to take back what he had done.
The suffering, the agony, seemed endless as wave after wave trampled her. Her hands clawed at him, to push him away at turns. She trembled, and Diego felt as another contortion built. She stiffened, arched, bucked, a silent scream unheard even as it tore through his mind.
A ripple shot up her body and he slid from the bed, kneeling on the ground. He held her carefully, tenderly as she expelled the wastes of her human body. The convulsions grew into violent heaves, and her body became soaked in sweat. Shock after shock wracked her trim figure until he feared she would shatter in his arms.
As the last wave faded, her breathing evened out and he gusted a grateful moan. Shaking as much as she was, he lifted her limp and exhausted body to his chest and carried her to the shower. He rinsed her lovingly, erasing the proof of her ordeal from her skin, washing the dirt and sweat from her hair.
It was very late by the time he had her dry and comfortable in bed. But a frown of worry still shadowed his brow.
She had survived the conversion, but the reality of her existence would have to be faced when she awakened. If she woke. He was still daring untried territory, bringing her into his world. The phrase “anything can happen” was an understatement of gigantic proportions.
He changed out of his soaked clothes to lay beside her, embracing her body to form into the curve of his. He lay in the darkness of the room, silently listening to her breathing, the beating of her heart as the minutes dragged by, until the weight of the morning sun made his arms and legs, then his body heavy. It was the longest night of his life.
* * * *
Titania sucked in air, disoriented. She didn’t dare move. The last memories she had were painful, wrenching agonies burning her insides until she had only wanted to die. She took several seconds to inspect her limbs and body. Nothing hurt. Nothing burned. She was alive! That was always a good way to wake up.
Then what the hell happened?
She could recall snatches of memory. Very little made sense.
She continued to breathe, listening. She knew she wasn’t alone. Diego was there. How did she know that so quickly? So easily? She never woke up with him in the room. How long had she slept this time?
Somewhere in her mind, she knew the sun had set. It was one of those facts of life. She just knew it had. Sounds and scents were beginning to infiltrate her waking discoveries. The intoxicating leather and spice that was Diego was prominent. She could make out several scented candles from different locations in the room. Her breathing dragged, hitched hard when she realized she could make them out individually. Her sense of smell had become unbelievably acute. Even the breathing seemed…different. Like it wasn’t
necessary.
But that wasn’t possible. She had to breathe, or else turn blue. It had to be the strangeness as she found her way through the fog of waking.
She could find her heartbeat going strong. She swallowed hard. She could hear Diego’s heart clearly. Could hear the rush of blood through his body, through hers. Something was building in her, a…craving? But she wasn’t hungry. In fact, she had never felt less hungry for food in her life.
She felt as Diego’s fingers sifted through her hair, a tender caress. Except his hand was shaking.
“How are you feeling?” He continued lifting tender fingers through her hair.
“Not too bad.” She dared to open her eyes and found herself immersed in the pale winter gray of his eyes looming above her, watching. Worried, strained, cautious. But a slow, happy smile flitted over his mouth. “What happened?” she asked.
His eyes were dark pools, a collage of thoughts hidden behind them. “How much do you remember?”
She maintained his searching pull, trying to recall the previous evening. “I remember you telling me you were a vampire. I guess that hasn’t changed.”
His chest clenched as though she’d given him a physical blow, his lashes dropping for a brief second. “No. It has not.”
“One thing at a time.” She licked her lips. “All right. I remember leaving the hotel…” Her voice drifted as her hazy memory began to come back to her, little snippets. “I thought I was in a lab.” Her gaze snapped to his when his hand in her hair froze for an instant. “I was! I remember waking up, and I was handcuffed.” Her hands lifted frantically, but there was no sign of the shackles. She found the warmth of his bare chest beneath flat palms. Her attention flicked down to the tight slab of his stomach, and a single breath shot through her. Pajama bottoms. She was in his bed? Or was he in hers? Nothing was adding up yet.
“How did I get out?”
He lifted one of the hands braced against his chest, kissing fingertips. “I got you out. However, Tenorio escaped.”
Her eyes narrowed as he continued to study her fingers. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The rare rush of his breath was warm on her skin. “A lot, I am afraid. Houston is shutting down the tour. Tenorio was the only one out of his household who escaped. He lost two renowned scientists last night in the fire. He will not take this lying down, losing you.”
“Okay,” she replied cautiously. She’d come back to that in a minute. “What else?”
He seemed to be very intent on what he was doing with her hand. “He drugged you. It was a terminal amount.” He continued to rub her fingers between his.
She dug her free hand into his hair, forcing him to face her. “Diego, what do you mean terminal amount?”
“It means,” he told her, wary and hesitant. “Had I not completed converting you, you would be dead right now.”