Scent of Salvation (Chronicles of Eorthe #1) (35 page)

“You look pale. Maybe you should lie down.”

“This is happening too fast. I just drank your—your blood.” She fought nausea as her stomach went squishy. “The virus needs time to incubate before I should show symptoms.” Wobbling, she grasped the edge of the table before she fell on her ass.

“You know much about viruses?” Benic slipped his iron-strong arm around her waist and guided her to the cot by the wall.

“Of course I do.” She took a walk down the green mile as she approached the bed. Her hopes for the future faded with each step. Would she wake as Susan, if at all? A tear slid from the corner of her eye.

“The antibodies you produce will be your salvation.” He laid her against the pillows and wiped her cheeks dry. “No need of these. You received a concentrated dose of the virus in your wine but I will boost your immunity. You will survive.” He brushed loose strands of hair from her face. “You have to.”

She turned away from him, betrayal a bitter comfort. How could the world population change so drastically? From Benic’s legends it sounded as if humans transformed overnight. A latent gene? Maybe the mutation was already present and the virus triggered the cells to regenerate quickly, activating changes.

Presto chango, those who survived the infection awoke non-human.

Cramps assaulted her legs and she curled into a ball. Either way, something of her would die today. “If you’re going to help me, better do it soon.”

“We’ve made great advances in medicine since the plague. Boosting your immunity will increase the chances of your survival.” He frowned and touched her chin. “I’m sorry for the pain. I can’t risk mixing medicines in your system.”

“Bastard.” She rubbed her calves as sweat trickled off her forehead.

Benic grabbed a cloth and wiped it. “I’m prepared to stay with you. I’m not evil, Susan. I wish you’d believe that. I’m desperate.”

“For what?” she shouted. The absurdity of everything shattered her sanity. She’d traveled dimensions to be transformed into a vampire.

He stared at the window and cleared his throat. The sun was setting the sky on fire as it slid behind the horizon. “I am part of an endangered species. Vampires never could breed like the other races. The longer the life span, the more infertile the people. Only one out of ten vampires born is female.”

The cramps grew worse but she could care less as the meaning of what he told her dawned. “I’m for breeding?” She rolled onto her back, ready for the nightmare to end.

“Shh…” Benic wiped her forehead again. “Not like some animal. A wife. A cherished, pampered and worshipped wife.” The cloth traveled down her cheek and under her chin, where his hand guided her face toward his.

“Your wife.” So hell on Eorthe really did exist. She groaned and closed her eyes.

“I’d never force you—”

“But you’d infect me against my will.”

“I couldn’t take the chance you’d say no. It’s too important.” He rose and backed away. “Take another vampire as a mate. As long as you have children…” His voice went hoarse and he turned toward the lab table. “I need to prepare the medicine.”

Benic handled a delicate glass vial where he would mix the concentrated essences of herbs and the adrenal hormones of a rare shark he’d discovered off the tip of South Amerigo. He’d spent a day preparing the ingredients for the immunity-boosting drug so all would be ready for when he brought Susan home.

He had hoped once she comprehended his motives for violating all his ethics, she’d comply. He was a fool and could have handled that better. She’d never agree to be the mother of his children now. The forgotten glass vial in his fist creaked. He was desperate—he’d had no choice. Susan was the first glimpse of hope he’d seen in what felt like ages.

Grinding his teeth, careful not to chip a fang, he set the expensive vessel back on the laboratory table. He grabbed a flask of strong-smelling liquid then measured some into a beaker sitting over an open flame. It had to be sterilized before he could inject Susan.

“A good dose of this should increase your white blood cells as well. Your body will be well-armed to fight the virus enough to survive the infection.”

Susan lay quiet on the cot. Fever raged through her body. Her gaze never left him though, her hatred palpable on his skin. His heart grew heavier and would settle in his feet soon. Too late for regrets; he’d crossed a line he never thought possible and would accept any consequences.

Among vampire society, females were the highest commodity. Not just any male mated. All marriages were arranged, contracted and paid for in full before the bride was even introduced in person. As far as he knew only two females lived in North Amerigo. The Duchess of Paoro and the Princess of New Swanton were guarded twenty-four hours a day.

All the others resided in the old world. Europa was a much safer place for raising a family than the wilds of the west. Benic had petitioned for a wife but his role as a shifter enforcer made him an undesirable candidate.

Once, a very long time ago, a female had answered his request, but her family had intervened and ended the correspondence.

He glanced at Susan. A whole world of humans who could be potential mates existed. He drew up the medicine using a large metallic syringe and needle. That’s if his theory was right. The thick fluid in the syringe needed to cool before he could inject her. “At this rate, the transformation shouldn’t take long.”

“There are so many things that can go wrong. I’m human. What if I react to the medicine?” Even ill, Susan’s mind was still active. She’d be such a great addition to the species.

Wiping her forehead with the cool cloth again, he settled on the edge of the cot. “One problem at a time.”

“Fuck.” She rolled, turning her back to him.

Staring at the wall, he wished he could visit Kele. Wished he could change her to vampire instead of Susan. She probably was awake now and confused. Angry. Yes, she’d be furious. He should visit her and explain. Glancing at Susan’s back, he knew Kele wouldn’t accept his reasoning any more than Susan had.

What was he going to do with the female shifter? He had hoped Kele would come willingly. She had assented but under conditions he couldn’t agree to. Maybe with time she’d learn to love him as Inacio had.

Unlike his people, he did care about the proud wolf shifter race of these new lands. He’d fought against the movement to drive the race into extinction. His people saw the wolf shifters as too wild to tame, unlike the felines. Pack loyalty was the strongest in the world of any shifters. He had proved those vampires wrong. Wolf shifter loyalties could be swayed as those living within his castle and others had proven.

The tribes may hate their reservations but at least they lived.

First, he needed to bring salvation to the vampires. Susan had built one gateway machine. With the right resources, she could build another. Then no male would have to die unmated.

He poured a glass of cool water and rolled Susan over on her back. “Drink. You need it.” He supported her as he brought it to her lips.

She gulped the glass empty.

“More?” He laid her against the pillow. The neck of her dress twisted, exposing her shoulder. “What’s this?” He fingered a fresh wound. “A bite?” The glass he held shattered on the floor. “From what?”

“Not a what, a who.” She stared at the ceiling.

“Sorin?” He hadn’t intended to shout but this wrecked everything. “When?”

She frowned and rubbed the offending mark. “Last night.”

“You let him mark you after a few days? You barely know him. Is this crazy behavior common among humans?” At some point in his rant, he’d started pacing along her cot. Stopping, he ran his hands over his short curls and gave them a good tug. “I can’t believe this.” Why couldn’t the fates sway his way for once? He’d worked so hard for a family and when it was within his grasp something had to go wrong. Always…

Susan covered the mark with her dress and raised a thin eyebrow. “Are you done?”

He tossed himself in a chair and finished the wine bottle with a few long swigs. “He probably infected you with that bite.” He watched her face for comprehension to sink in.

Her eyes widened after a moment as the implications dawned on her. “Oh.” She licked her lips. “I guess we have a new problem.”

He slammed his hand on the table so hard the wine bottle fell and rolled off, breaking on impact with the stone floor. “I should have examined a fresh sample of your blood prior to infecting you. Careless.”

“Would that have stopped you?”

“If you were already infected? Of course, I’m not trying to kill you.” He shook his head and stared at the ceiling, praying for divine intervention from a god he didn’t believe in.

Susan shivered visibly on the cot. Sweat beaded on her exposed skin, and she appeared very flushed.

“Your fever is worse than I expected. You can allow your body to fight both strains of the virus on its own or you can allow me to give you the medicine I’ve prepared.”

“What will happen?”

He shrugged. “After that bite, who knows?”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Under the cover of night, Sorin did his best to remain still. It took all his restraint not to leap to his feet and pace along the forest’s edge. Where were they? The sun had set. He’d borrowed a handcart from a local farm. The hardest part was pulling it through the forest without breaking a wheel. How hard could it be to find clothes and a skunk?

The rustle of leaves announced Peder’s arrival.

Sorin heaved a sigh. “It’s about time. I was wondering if you went back to the den to find clothes.”

Dressed in rough gray cloth, his hair tucked under a cap, Peder appeared much younger and more innocent.

It made Sorin’s heart ache. Life with the Apisi had stolen both of those things from Peder.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find anything that fit. Almost had to steal a dress.” He grinned and the sparkle in Peder’s eyes eased Sorin’s grief.

“You have the legs to pull off a dress.” He grinned back but the muscles in his face creaked with the effort. Rolling his shoulders, he tried to relieve the knots of tension.

A putrid odor oozed among the ferns.

Peder slapped his hands over his nose. “I think Ahote’s close.” He spoke nasally.

Invisible in the dark, the black shifter moved in silence, the parting ferns the only evidence of his passing. He dropped a squirming sack on the ground.

Nausea rose in Sorin’s stomach with the stench and he raised his hand. “That’s close enough.” He glanced at Peder. “Exactly how does smelling this bad help us sneak into the castle?”

“It doesn’t. It deters anyone from wanting to be around us. You need to shift to civil form and roll in the mud.”

Ahote snarled before speaking. “By all that’s sacred, Peder. If this doesn’t work I’ll skin you and wear you on my back in winter.”

Sorin cuffed the hunter on the ear as he stalked by. “Mind your manners. Peder belongs to me. I get his pelt.” He winked at the omega over Ahote’s shoulder.

The small shifter cleared his throat. “Make sure the mud is thick. I’ll meet you by the road with the cart.”

“Mud.” Ahote kicked a fern as he shifted to civil form.

Naked, they followed a trench that led them to a shallow creek. Sorin tossed an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Stop complaining. We’re here to rescue, not seduce. You can look pretty tomorrow.”

“How can you let an omega lead a hunt?” Ahote grabbed a handful of mud, smelled it and grimaced.

Sorin took a deep breath and held it, counting to ten before letting it out. “You didn’t have a plan and mine would have gotten us all killed. A good alpha listens to his pack.” He shoved Ahote from behind, sending him face first into the mud. A satisfying splatter accompanied his landing. Sorin fought a grin. “Hurry, princess, my mate is waiting for us.”

Sorin jumped in next to the hunter then rolled through the muck, getting a thick layer over his skin. He crawled to his feet and followed Peder’s trail to the road where the omega waited with an angry skunk.

Ahote joined them, wiping his eyes.

“The mud should prevent the skunk’s spray from sticking to your flesh.” Peder bent over the sack. “Turn so it doesn’t land in your eyes.”

Twisting around, Sorin chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from snarling. Should prevent it from sticking? The strong smell of skunk drove shifters into illness. Even the nose-blind domestic ones in the castle would avoid it, but he had to admit Peder’s idea was sounding good.

A warm spray hit the back of his thighs. The stench slammed into his nose, and his mind went blank from the overload. He gagged, and his knees wobbled. An image of Susan shimmering with sweat in the firelight came to his mind. He straightened and swallowed his queasiness. Something knocked into his legs.

Ahote had fallen, head bent to the ground. “Mother Darkness, save me.”

The world’s scents faded, covered by the stink. Sorin shook his head, disoriented. He could only smell skunk. Nose blind. His heart raced as he glanced at Ahote. They’d lost a sense. It made them less effective hunters. They would have to rely on their vision and hearing more. “Peder?”