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He hated leaving her alone with the vampire. Barely back from the threshold of death, she was more fragile—more tempting?—than she had ever been. But then, Dominique Marchant wasn’t just a random bloodsucker. The youngling had more strength and discipline than many who were centuries older. He also had more integrity than all his bloodthirsty kind put together. More than most humans Jackson knew.
Maybe more than Jackson had himself.
That last thought made him shift in his seat. Nick could have killed him and his entire family countless times, but except for Garrett—whom he let live in the end anyway—he had never laid a fang on any of them. In contrast, if not for the much greater prize of Kambyses in his sights, Jackson would have finished Nick the first chance he got by any means of deception necessary.
At least in the beginning. Back when his world was still black and white. When he worked alone—and screwed up more times than he could count.
Remembering how close he had come to bungling Cassidy’s rescue tonight and what it had taken to pull it off in the end made his nerves jangle like Christmas bells. The “game” had run its course, the end imminent, and he, Jackson Striker, vampire hunter, had trusted a vampire to seize the sliver of a chance to save them all. No, more than that. He had worked together with the vampire to accomplish what neither of them could do alone.
Now that he wasn’t fighting for his life anymore, Jackson didn’t know what to do with that.
He stuffed the last of the muffin into his mouth and wadded the cellophane wrapper into the half-empty cup, then got up to toss it into the trash. Gil lay prostrate on the next bench over, snoring, a whale of a man and accidental vampire hunter at peace. Jackson envied him. Nothing was so simple anymore in the gray morass of his new reality.
The blood he ingested wasn’t making things any clearer. It was only a few drops, but they had hit him like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. The effect was already waning, but he could still see with a clarity that cramped his brain. There was, for instance, an ant marching toward a box of donuts sitting on the nurse’s station counter—fifty feet away. He felt stronger, too, and wondered what times he would clock on his morning run. Also, if he concentrated, he could hear Gil’s heart…
Jackson settled in the seat farthest away, propped his elbows on his knees, and scratched the stubble sprouting on his chin. His fingers found the two small St. Christopher medallions hanging below the hollow of his throat. One had always been his, the other, the one with the notch in its side, had been Justin’s. Jackson remembered finding it amidst the gore of his brother’s savaged body and marveled at the fact that he didn’t end up the same way tonight. Not only that, he even walked away with a taste of the supernatural strength that had murdered his brother. His skin twitched with unease.
Garrett was a good deal less conflicted about his enhanced abilities after receiving far more “magic juice” to repair his stab wound. Jackson would have sworn his uncle’s canines looked longer than usual.
“If it hadn’t been so damn inconvenient, I would have rather died,” Garrett said after they had delivered Cassidy into medical care and could catch their breath. “This better wear off by tomorrow night. I want to be completely human when we finish this mess.”
What would happen if it didn’t? Would the vampire blood in their systems die with its source? What would that do to them?
He wished Garrett was still there to discuss it, but his uncle had headed for home soon after Gil walked into the ER, asking for Jackson and demanding to donate O-negative blood for his daughter. Getting Monica Sol—if that was even her real name—away from any opportunity to instigate disaster was Garrett’s top priority.
On the way to the hospital, Jackson had stopped her from working herself into a stroke by dosing her with a tranquilizer from the van’s emergency kit. He was relieved to see that she required no medical attention for the gunshot wound he had inflicted. The bullet had passed clean through her thigh, and there was potent vampire blood in her system. The damage was as good as healed. Later, Garrett had arranged private transportation and took her semi-conscious self back to the house for safe-keeping.
How they were going to deprogram her was anybody’s guess.
The door to Cassidy’s room opened, pulling Jackson out of his thoughts. Nick’s elegant form slipped ghost-silent into the hall. He closed the door without a sound behind him, then leaned his head against it, shoulders slumped. One hand splayed on the surface as though he considered pushing it open again. The other hung by his side, leather jacket clenched in his fist. Under the overhead fluorescents, his bare skin glowed white.
Jackson didn’t move, though not out of fear of being spotted by a predator. No, it wasn’t his vulnerability that riveted him, but the vampire’s. Whatever Nick told Cassidy about the night’s events and their consequences, she would not have taken it well. Whatever the vampire felt in response was very real—and very human.
When Nick collected himself, he walked toward Jackson, putting on his jacket as he went, his boots squeaking on the linoleum floor. Unguarded heartache etched his ridiculously handsome face. The face Jackson once thought of as the unblinking mask of a viper. Though he knew that creature was still in there, there was no sign of it now.
Nick sat on the bench opposite him, leaned back, and closed his eyes, the picture of exhaustion.
Jackson clasped his hands together where they hung between his knees. “How is she?”
“Alive.”
“You didn’t—”
“No. I did not taste her blood.” Nick opened his eyes and stared straight ahead, gaze unfocused. “This is difficult enough without being so closely bound.”
Jackson knew what the vampire meant on both counts, but only one reference seemed safe to question. “So it’s true, what she told me? About you two reading each other’s minds after—” He made a small circular gesture, then, unsure, rejoined his hands.
“Oui. We become one,” Nick said softly.
“I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”
“It is rare, and unspeakably precious. Like her.”
Jackson said nothing. There were no words in the face of what he heard in those hushed tones. If Cassidy felt even half of this, she would be an unspeakable mess without Dominique. These two were willing to die for each other.
One of them actually would.
“Will you make sure she will be all right?”
