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Sam looked at Kyla through the window and for a second he looked a little green around the gills. He took a step back and then another step and waved Tristan to follow him. Tristan spoke to him, pointing at him, looking very displeased.
He took the bags from Sam and then tossed them in the back seat behind Kyla and then without saying anything or even looking her in the face, he got into the front seat and slammed the door, turned the key, and squealed away from the curb.
She fastened her seatbelt, practically hyperventilating. As they sped away she saw Sam standing on the sidewalk, leaning over, hands on his denim-clad thighs, looking like he was trying to catch his breath.
“Fuck!” Tristan hollered, making her jump.
“Fuck!” he repeated and punched the dashboard beside the steering wheel, doing a significant amount of damage to it. He was driving like a madman on a racetrack. The anger on his face, the vibe in the car, it was like a raging angry life force.
Kyla let out a giant sob. He slammed on the brakes, making her body jerk forward hard against her seatbelt. They were on a quiet side street. He pulled up against the curb and got out of the car and then climbed in the back seat and leaned over, undid her belt, pulled her limp body between the space between the front two seats back into his arms and held her tight against his bare chest, letting out a sound of absolute anguish. He was shaking. She was shaking. She was bawling.
She looked up at his face. His irises were still black. His fangs were out, and he was taking slow deep breaths as he stroked the back of her head and her back. He was completely pissed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His fangs retracted. He took another big breath and blew it out slowly. He kept stroking her for a minute and then pulled the bag over that was beside them and got into her purse and pulled out the bottle of Purell disinfectant gel and liberally doused her throat with it and then did the same to her hands. He must’ve already closed the wounds on her throat with his mouth as they didn’t sting. Then he grabbed a handful of tissues from a dispenser on the back of the driver’s seat and started to wipe her throat. The tissues were now red.
Tristan’s chest was heaving up and down and he looked about ready to explode. She grabbed more tissues and frantically wiped her hands, “His…. his bl-blood…” she stammered.
He grabbed her face in both hands, “Please forgive me. Please, princess, forgive me.” His fangs were back out.
She shook her head, “It’s not your fault.”
His teeth retracted, “It fuckin’ is. I let that happen. I was negligent. I can’t believe I allowed that to fucking happen. I’ve failed you. Again. A-fucking-gain! I don’t deserve you. I’m so goddamn sorry.”
She burrowed deep into his arms, “Shut up and hold me.”
She ugly cried into his chest for a little while and then he lifted her hair away from her face and tipped her chin up so their eyes met.
Tristan was hoarse when he then asked, “Sam said he was raping you. Was he? Was he raping you?”
Kyla nodded a little, “Sam burst in the room and they started to fight. I tried to fight him off. I couldn’t… He only…”
Tristan let out a pained animal-like sound and squeezed her tighter.
He picked up the phone from the front seat and dialed, still holding her close, “Adrian. Sam Jasper just saved Kyla. Liam was feeding from and FUCKING RAPING HER!”
At the sound of those words, words that sounded like they were ripped from the bottom of Tristan’s gut, Kyla’s crying went uncontrollable. Big stuttering broken sobs. Tristan kissed her forehead but let go of her.
“No, we’ll be there tomorrow. I need to take her somewhere for a while and … and …
No…he got away.
No, I’m cool. I said I’m fine, man. She’s not okay but she will be ‘cause I’m gonna fucking kill that motherfu---
No… Sam’s heading to you as soon as he finishes clean-up at the scene.
Two security guards. Ripped throats.
Yeah, Sam said it worked but it was wearing off a few minutes later when he got near her.
Whatever.
Can Liam track her now that he’s fed? Anything else I need to know?
Fine. You check your end and make sure no one is fuckin’ feeding him info.
Better not be!”
Tristan left the vehicle. Kyla was shivering. She spotted a bottle of water in the half-zipped duffle bag so grabbed it and started to drink it. She choked a little but then got some down. Then she opened the door and poured water on her still dirty hands and then wiped with the rest of the tissue from the car. Tristan was outside pacing back and forth on the sidewalk of the residential side street while talking on the phone. She couldn’t hear him. She poured the last of the bottle of hand sanitizer on her hands. She wished she could bathe in it.
