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I kissed him. It’s not that I wanted to kiss him as much as I wanted him to stop talking, and kissing seemed like a sane alternative in a clearly insane moment. The shock of my lips against his was enough to make his eyes widen, flare bright red, and then close as he cupped the back of my head in his strong hand and tilt it so we were more comfortably positioned.
What was I doing, kissing a vampire on the floor of a hospital room? Maybe this was what the doctor had been talking about. Clearly, I needed to stop this, but at the same time, I could blame this on his poisoning, and when else would I kiss a vampire?
I closed my eyes and leaned into him, slipping my hands around his neck and holding him close. For a moment I was lost in the connection between us like sweet, distant fireworks and lightning, but how could I blame this on his poisoning? He’d been poisoned, and I chose this time to indulge my secret desire to kiss him? How sick and twisted could I be?
I pushed him away, but he growled in his throat and rolled on top of me, pinning me down while he kissed me, surprisingly gentle lips without a trace of cutting fang, while the rest of him was so immovable.
I tried pulling his hair, but he only sighed and softened, like that was encouragement. What could I expect from a drunk and drugged vampire? Still, he didn’t seem to be in any pain, and kissing him seemed to be the only option.
I stopped struggling and gave in to the sweet contact, warm, pliable lips against mine. Kissing. I had no idea how to do it properly, but I had a pretty good idea that laying on the floor next to an unconscious person wasn’t the most romantic circumstances to do it in. I knew that in my head, but I couldn’t imagine anything more breathlessly inspiring. I touched his skin, his neck, his cheek, silky skin that almost burned beneath my caresses. I wanted to kiss him forever, to taste his lips while he said my name, to feel his breath, his soul, his heart, and share mine in return. I wanted to keep kissing him until my lips fell off from the contact.
“Get off her!” a harsh growl came before Horace’s terrible vampire maw came into view as he ripped the Scholar off me. The next few moments were remarkably violent, but at the same time, not a card was knocked over, and not a single vicious slash of claw or snap of teeth came close to Bert’s bed.
I stayed on the floor, looking between the two vampires, confused at the randomness of the moment. The Scholar wasn’t fighting as well as he normally would when he was in proper control of himself, but Horace wasn’t trying to rip off his head, just get him off me. Exactly what did he think that the Scholar had been doing?
I swallowed hard and wriggled closer to the wall, away from their viciously controlled epic battle.
Five more of Stead’s men came in the next moment. First, they went after Horace, but the moment they got him off, Michael whirled around and charged me, eyes burning red, fangs elongated and aimed clearly for my throat.
I brought up the bedpan at the last moment, slamming his face into it with a beautiful gong. He ricocheted off and before he came at me again, his men grabbed him, releasing Horace, who straightened up, smoothing down his neat suit like he hadn’t just been a spitting and snarling force of vampire terror.
“What happened here?” Horace asked me, eyes more or less clear of the usual red fury.
I licked my lips and tasted the Scholar. Why did he taste like spearmint and orange? That was suddenly my favorite flavor combination. “Um…” I wasn’t going to talk about the kissing. I pointed at the spider bot where it had been kicked back under the bed. “Assassin spiders came, and one of them got him. He’s under the influence of some kind of poison, so he was acting out of character.”
“Miss Morell,” Sultry said, coming in wearing spiked heels that looked much more like weapons of death than seduction. “I’ll stay with you until this situation is resolved. Horace, it looks like this is your opportunity to escape the Scholar’s grasp. I suggest you take it or go back to your cell and await your judgment. If you bother anyone at the library, I’ll personally castrate you before I rip out your heart and feed it to the pigeons.”
He raised a brow slightly then bowed to her and then left the room, ignoring the men struggling to hold the Scholar who was still snarling and lunging towards me.
I swallowed hard, but I wasn’t sure if I was as alarmed as I should be. I’d been bitten before, and if he bit anywhere close to how he kissed me or licked me…
“Come, Miss Morell. He will be easier to manage once you are out of harm’s way,” Sultry said, taking my elbow and guiding me past the group of his men. At the last moment, I reached out a hand towards him. Somehow, he got loose long enough to reach out to me, and then there was a sharp pain as his claws ripped through my skin.
Sultry shoved me through the door, slammed it closed behind us, and then dragged me down the hall by the elbow. “Put pressure on your wound, Miss Morell. Conveniently, we’re at a hospital. We’ll stop in at a doctor I know, and he’ll whip up some stitches for you in no time.” She pulled me into the elevator and finally released me as she pushed the close button.
When the doors were almost closed, the Scholar came into sight at the end of the hall, fangs extended, eyes glowing far too bright, but the doors closed right before he reached us. I heard the thud of a vampire hitting metal doors.
“Usually poisons make people far slower,” I said, frowning down at my hand where blood had stained the skin around the wound where I was holding it with my other hand. I still had my file in those blood-stained fingers.
“My dear, are you always so casual in the presence of a feral vampire? You don’t seem to be panicking, unless this is you panicking.” She frowned at me, peering into my eyes until I started remembering his kiss in a much more tactile way than I needed to on an elevator with a work associate.
I pulled away from her and looked at the doors. “He has more control than any vampire I’ve ever met. Horace seems to be doing better.”
“He does have control, which is why it’s such a terrifying thing when he loses it.” She shivered theatrically. “You’re very lucky that he didn’t kill you, either purposefully or by accident. How did you distract him from his rage?”
I pressed my lips together. “We were talking.”
“How impressive that you could soothe the beast of his soul with words.” She raised a brow, but didn’t push the point.
Why did I always end up in situations where I felt like I couldn’t possibly fully disclose circumstances? It might be relevant. After all, the Scholar really shouldn’t have lost control like that.
“I kissed him, and that seemed to distract him.” Not that I’d been trying to distract him from his feral vampire as from his unpleasant topic of conversation, a lot like this one, but I couldn’t kiss Sultry to change the subject. Of course I couldn’t. What kind of logic had that been? Stupid logic that was compelled by the fact that I secretly wanted to kiss him. Was he right after all about me being secretly obsessed with vampires? How humiliating. “I’ve never kissed a vampire before. I expected some cutting, but he didn’t leave a scratch.” Did that sound scientific? Not remotely. I was such an idiot.
“Interesting.” Her answer made it sound like we were talking about an impersonal ancient text, and I immediately felt much better. She didn’t say anything else, and neither did I, because everything was starting to catch up to me, but I wasn’t sure if the blood loss was affecting me as much as the way the kiss stayed, buzzing on my lips, a thousand times more pleasantly persistent than the way he’d lingered on my fingertips.
Chapter
Sixteen
