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“Only you,” he said, meeting her eyes. “Right now, it’s only you.”
He brought his own wrist up to his mouth, then bit down, opening a vein. He pressed the wound to her mouth. “Drink,” he said, then held her head as she suckled him, stroked her hair as one might a child nursing from its mother. “That’s the way. Not too much, you must be careful.”
Too much blood, and she would not simply heal, but would fall in tune with him, giving him access to her fears, her hopes, her desires. Even more, and the dark gift would embrace her. He would have neither for her, so he watched her carefully, and the moment a hint of strength returned—the moment he was certain she would last at least as long as it took for help to arrive—he pulled his wrist away.
“More,” she said.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he rose up out of the water, the girl in his arms, and carried her to a deck chair. He took a towel from a nearby trunk and spread it over her, gratified by the steady, strong beat of her heart. He brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “Sleep now. Sleep, and heal.”
She drifted off, and he stood, saw the time, and swore.
Think, dammit, think.
He tilted his head, looking up toward Sara’s balcony.
Perhaps, he thought, there was hope after all.
* * *
Nick woke in the dark with a raging headache and a boiling anger. It had been one hell of a long time since he’d been clocked—longer still since he’d been taken by surprise—and he wasn’t sure who he was angrier with, himself or Luke.
His head pounded and he amended that thought.Luke. He was most definitely angrier with Luke.
He shifted, trying to get his bearings, his vampiric eyes adjusting to the pitch black of the tight receptacle into which he’d been dumped.
“Damn the bastard,” he murmured as he kicked up, using the strength in his legs to push the top off the sarcophagus. It fell to the floor, the reverberating crash of stone against stone cathartic.
His friend had put him in one hell of a sticky situation. “Goddamn arrogant fool.”
“I’m guessing you’re referring to Dragos, and not whoever you’re sharing that sarcophagus with.” Ryan Doyle’s gritty voice greeted Nick as he grabbed the sides of the coffin and pulled himself up. He tightened his grip, forcing himself not to leap out and close his hands around Doyle’s neck.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he said, with admirable calm. “You’ve got no right to intrude on an advocate-escorted furlough.”
“Got a point,” Doyle said, then made a show of looking around. “’Cept I don’t see you escorting anyone. You see anybody else in here, Sev?”
“Not unless dem bones gonna rise again.” Agent Tucker took a step toward Nick, then flashed a smug smile as he peered down into the coffin. He looked back at Doyle. “Nah. They don’t look the type.”
“Nice job, Counselor,” Doyle said. “Lost your client, and now the sorry SOB’s going down.” He punctuated the remark with a shit-eating smile that had Nick leaping from the coffin to land a rock-solid punch on Doyle’s smug, sorry-ass face.
“Motherfucker!” Doyle said, flying right back on Nick, eyes red, veins bulging, skin shifting to a slightly greenish hue.
And every ounce of that famous temper pumping right beneath the surface.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Strong arms grabbed Nick’s from behind, tugging him away from Doyle, who looked about to explode. “Let’s settle down, boys.”
“Let. Me. Go.” Nick could break away, no question about that. Tucker was strong, but he was only human.
“Don’t even think about it,” Doyle growled, those red eyes tight on Nick’s face. “Maybe you can take my boy, and maybe you can’t, but I know you can’t take me. Think you learned that lesson years ago.”
Nick shook his arms free from Tucker’s grip and stood tall, his hands fisted at his sides. “Things can change over the centuries, Doyle.”
“Things, maybe. Not people. Not vampires.” He flipped open his phone, pressed a speed-dial number. “And certainly not Dragos. Learned that centuries ago, too.” The phone was set on speaker, and Nick heard the electronic buzz as it rang at the other end, then the computerized voice requesting identification.
“This is Agent Ryan Doyle, badge number 1026C, reporting violation of furlough by defendant Lucius Dragos. Requesting activation of mobile detention measures and immediate termination of subject Dragos.”
“Goddammit, no!” Nick yelled, leaping forward again.
“Acknowledged and analyzing. Please hold for verification of subject termination.”
