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He lifted his head but kept his hand on her, working her with two fingers inside, thumb on her clit.
Her eyes were wide, on him, and he could swear that for a split second they looked completely fucking lucid.
He got up on an elbow, sank his fangs into her wrist, and she screamed out in passion, grabbing his hair at the ear with her free hand. She rode another wave, bucking against his hand. And he felt her and saw light in her eyes. He felt it crystal clear. Need, want, and then she whimpered aloud,
“Tristan. Help me.”
Her eyes were on him, fiery, real, staring deep, and fuck…completely KYLA.
He had to release her, she needed him to let go, couldn’t safely give him any more blood. He released her wrist and the fire went out of her eyes, shifting away like a moving shadow. She went limp.
“What do you need?”
No answer.
“Tell me what you fucking need?” He shook her limp body, pleading, looking so deep into her glassed over eyes than he felt real strain behind his own, “Fucking tell me!”
He lifted her wrist, wanting to bite again, wanting her back, but he knew it’d be too much. She wouldn’t be able to hack it.
Icy cold rage rose, pulsed inside. He crawled backwards away from her until he was standing at the foot of the bed, his fists clenched at his sides.
He needed to push it back. He needed to push back the urge to go downstairs, haul Adrian Constantin outta the closet in the dining room, yank that dagger out and use it on him extensively. He wanted to drag the knife from his gut up to his throat and then slice and dice the fucker like an onion, into a thousand pieces, starting at the asshole’s ankles, letting him feel every single slice of the knife until he got to his chest and then he’d carve that useless heart out slowly, a millimeter at a fuckin’ time.
Instead, he put his fist into the mirror, hating his reflection with a passion because this was all his fucking fault and then he took a few deep breaths and then found a way to cool it. He texted Sam, who came down to the cottage a few minutes later.
~~~
Tristan cleaned up the broken mirror and then went downstairs and let Sam in. He told him to put Adrian in the pit that he’d been put in after Constantin fucked them over, and then went back upstairs and did dozens of push-ups on the floor beside the bed, at least 50 chin-ups on the door frame of the bedroom, and then he crawled into the bed and closed his eyes after pulling her to his chest and tangling his fingers into her long soft hair.
Sam texted him after he was back, telling him Adrian was in the pit, that he’d done as Tristan had asked and gotten help from one of Adrian’s security guys.
“Weird, man. I was waiting for him ages and then found out he was at the wrong pit. He said there was a mix-up and he was waiting 4 me at the other pit on the property. I don’t know who’s in it but he says there are 2 desecrated and daggered vamps in it.”
Tristan didn’t know who they were but he didn’t give a shit right now. He texted back,
“Out of scope for tonight man. Hit the hay, after you help him forget.”Tomorrow they’d leave this fucking place and, he hoped, get them on the road to getting her back.
She slept like an angel that night. She was curled up against him, almost as if she was herself, her colouring looking almost normal. She didn’t make a peep all night.
But Tristan didn’t sleep a wink.-4-Seattle, WAThe trip to Seattle was thankfully uneventful. Tristan had spoken to Adrian’s team and ensured they were all ready for business as usual. Sam deposited Adrian in the pit that Tristan had been kept in, was having it guarded, and he had stocked up on several dozen patches that were in Adrian’s lab that would allow him to be around Kyla. No one seemed to know anything about the other pit. Tristan would check it out later.
Kyla was a little pale and sickly and not real quick on her responses to questions so it took a little bit of influence at the airport. He decided they’d charter planes after this to make things simpler if they needed to travel again before he could get her well.
Getting her well felt possible. He desperately wanted to believe it wasn’t a lost cause.
He gave her some natural nausea medicine for the plane ride as she’d vomited just before they left the compound and then again on the ride to the airport. She slept against his shoulder during the flight and then he got her into bed when they’d gotten into a hotel room and she went back to sleep after he’d spoon-fed her some pureed vegetable soup and got her to drink some of a protein smoothie. She didn’t seem well enough for him to feed from, so he let her rest and he paced, did some work on his laptop, answering some emails to try to create the illusion of normalcy among vampire business and council peers, and stared out the window.
