Unchained: Blood Bond Saga: Volume One Page 15

  But my teeth had a mind of their own. They grew, and my need for her blood ached within me.

  I’d known coming here was a mistake, but I hadn’t been able to stop myself. The drive inside me, the pull, had overtaken me.

  I turned away from her so she wouldn’t see my teeth. “I need to go.”

  But she launched herself at me, both of us landing on the hard tile floor of her bathroom, she on top of me.

  My lust was so overpowering I felt no pain from the fall.

  “No,” she said, her voice lower than usual. “You’re not leaving. Not until you give me what I want. What you came here for.”

  She ripped open my shirt, and buttons went pinging against the glass doors of her shower. She gazed at my chest, sliding her fingers over my shoulders, my pectorals, my nipples, which were already hardened.

  “You’re amazing,” she said, her voice a husky rasp. “I’ve never seen a man so magnificent.”

  I kept my lips shut. My fangs were still elongated, and I couldn’t risk her seeing them.

  “You’re going to shut up,” she said. “You’re not going to say a fucking word. No more crap about leaving. No more crap about how I won’t understand. You’re going to keep mum while I get rid of your clothes and give you the fuck of your life, Dante. Got it?”

  I nodded. Keeping my mouth closed was a necessity, though she had no way of knowing that. I’d keep my will strong, hold myself in check, let her take what she wanted from me. I owed her that much.

  She lowered her head and brushed a soft kiss against my chest.

  Shivers ran through my body. God, the heat of her lips, the blood flowing to them. The need to consume her clawed at me…but still I kept my mouth shut. Couldn’t let her see what the blood lust had brought me to.

  “Your skin is so soft, Dante. So soft and fair, yet your muscles are hard underneath. You’re amazing.” She trailed her lips over the indentation of my clavicle, tracing tiny circles with her tongue.

  My erection was granite inside my jeans, and every part of me itched to take control, to stand and throw her down on the tile floor, unzip my pants, free my aching cock, and drive it into her.

  And then…that beautiful jugular at her neck, pulsing with the life force within her…

  I’d drink from her, draw strength from her, become one with her…

  My lips began to part, but I pressed them together. Must be strong. Must be strong.

  She slid her tongue over one nipple.

  I shuddered. How could that feel so good? I’d been tortured there. Made to—

  God, can’t go there right now.

  I had no right to be here. No right—

  “Oh, God.” The words tumbled from my mouth despite my vow to keep my lips closed.

  She fiddled with the snap to my jeans and then unzipped them, grasping my erection.

  “Erin, please…”

  “Shh. You’re not allowed to speak, remember?”

  Yes. I didn’t like taking orders, but for now it was just as well. If she looked closely, she’d see part of my guarded secret.

  Couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t—

  I sucked in a sharp breath when she edged my jeans and underwear over my hips and released my swollen cock.

  I expected her to tease it. Maybe suck on it. Something I’d never experienced. Something nothing could have prepared me for.

  Instead, she held a condom—where had that come from?—and ripped open the foil wrapper. She slid it over my cock with her lips.

  Being covered felt…odd—smothering, almost—but the slow and erotic movement of her full lips pushing the rubber onto me… I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath.

  I’d come at any moment now. I’d disappoint her. I balled my hands into fists, gritted my teeth—anything to hold on to my waning control.

  I didn’t want the condom, didn’t want any barriers between us, but I understood her need for assurance. In truth, we barely knew each other. She was being sensible, and I was committed to keeping her safe. I could never harm her. The need to shield her from any potential threat rose within me with savage ferocity.

  But nothing could override my urge, my drive, my lust to be part of her. I wanted her to slide onto me so badly. To take me—take me to a place where I could forget everything I’d been through, everything I’d let happen.

  Then she grasped my cock, her naked body hovering over me.

  “Now I’m going to take what I want.”

  “Now I’m going to take what I want.”

  But it wasn’t Erin’s voice. I looked up, and it was her masked face above me, her fangs protruding as she ground against me, forcing my untried body into an unwanted state of arousal.

  My body tensed, my fangs shrank. But only for a moment.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, balling my hands into fists and straining against my bindings.

  “No!”

  “I love it when you struggle,” she said, her voice laced with venom. “It’s all the better for me. Makes your blood taste even sweeter.” She lowered her lips to my neck.

  “No! You can’t! I won’t let you!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Erin

  “No!”

  Dante pushed me away, and I tumbled onto the floor, nearly hitting my head on the corner of the countertop.

  “No!” he yelled again, pulling off the condom and replacing his jeans around his hips. “You can’t! I won’t let you!”

  His shirt hanging open, he stumbled out of my bathroom.

  Shocked and dazed, I stood to go after him. What had gone wrong this time?

  He couldn’t leave. I couldn’t allow it. I needed him. Needed him inside me. Not just in my body but in my very soul.

  I walked, light-headed, out of the bathroom and into my bedroom.

  He was gone.

  Still naked, I headed down the stairs. “Dante!”

  Nothing.

  He was gone. Just like that, quick as a bolt of lightning, he was gone.

  My body throbbed with unsated desire, and my legs itched, aching to go after him.

  No.

  That was the last time. The last time I’d allow this to happen. Never again would he run from me.

  I walked slowly to the door, my heart stampeding in my chest, and locked it.

  Yes, I locked it. This time I committed the turning of the deadbolt to my memory. I locked the damned door.

  I walked to the kitchen, poured myself a large glass of ice water, and downed it, attempting to cool myself off.

  Didn’t work.

  Didn’t matter. I had to get to bed. I had work tonight.

  When I reached the ER at eleven p.m., I was pleased to see that Dr. Thomas was on duty. I couldn’t deal with Dr. Bonneville tonight. I’d slept fitfully, visions of Dante invading my dreams.

  My brother met me at the entrance.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “River’s inside talking to Cynthia North. She’s conscious.”

  “Oh, that’s great! What do you know so far?”

  “She has no memory of anything after being shot. She was agitated, and she seemed to be responding better to River, so I let him take the lead. I figured I’d just wait out here. It’s a nice night.”

  “Yeah. Unfortunately, I can’t enjoy it. I’m due on my shift.”

  “I know. I won’t keep you.”

  “Why don’t you come inside? Steve can make you one of his famous lattes.”

  “Steve’s not on tonight.”

  “Oh. Suit yourself, then.” I walked into the ER.

  “Erin, there you are.” Dr. Thomas motioned to me. “Lucy’s not in yet, and Dale and Renee both called in sick. I need you to take some blood for labs for the patient in exam room four. She’s got symptoms of the flu.”

  “Yes, Doctor.” I placed a surgical mask over my face. I’d had a flu shot, of course, but I wasn’t too excited about exposing myself to the nasty virus. Flu shots were no guarantee against infection.
But this was what they paid me for.

  I grabbed the chart off the door and entered the examination room. “Hi there”—I scanned the chart—“Ms. Moore. So you’re not feeling too great, huh?”

  The older woman shook her head. “It’s Mrs. Moore, dear. And no, I’m afraid I’m not.”

  Unfortunately, the flu flocked to the elderly due to their decreased immune systems. “You’re ninety years old?”

  “Yes. Been around the block a few times.”

  “Congratulations on living such a long life.” I smiled.

  “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve buried a husband and a son. But I get along.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take some blood. I’ll try not to hurt you too much.”

  “Poke away. It won’t be the first time, and God willing, it won’t be the last.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be,” I said, hoping I wasn’t telling a huge lie. The flu could ravage a ninety-year-old woman, though Mrs. Moore appeared to be in decent shape for her age. I tied the rubber banding above her elbow. “Can you make a fist for me?”

  She needn’t have bothered. The veins in her arm stuck out like tiny blue streams, and her skin was so fragile it was translucent. I hated to stick a needle into someone so old. I did it as quickly as possible. She didn’t even flinch.

  “I had the best physician when I was younger,” she was saying as she watched the blood fill up the crystal tube. “I believe her daughter must work here.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. When I was being wheeled back here to the exam room, I passed the photos of the doctors on the wall. There was a photo of a woman who could be my doctor’s twin, except she had blond hair. My doctor was a brunette.”

  “Really?” I removed the first tube and inserted the second.

  “Yes. She had the most interesting name, too. Like Sarah, but she spelled it with a Z. Such a gifted doctor. I’ve always wondered what happened to her.”

  I stiffened a bit, forcing my eyes not to widen. Sarah with a Z. Like Sabrina with a Z. “Was her last name Bonneville?”

  “No. But her last name was also French. I think it began with an L. Le Grand or La Grande. I can’t remember. Maybe Lagrandaise. It was so long ago, and my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

  “We have a Zabrina Bonneville here. Like Sabrina with a Z. She has blond hair.”

  “Maybe that’s whose photo I saw. I don’t know. It couldn’t have been my doctor. She’s be in her seventies by now.”

  “What did you see her for?” I asked.

  “She was my general practitioner. She saw our whole family for a while, but she was really good with my second son, Carlos. He had a blood disorder. We never did find out exactly what was wrong with him, but Dr. Zarah—that’s what we called her—found a treatment that kept him in remission when no other physician could. Unfortunately, Carlos died in a car accident when he was only twenty-four. But I have no doubt that he would have lived a long and healthy life thanks to her.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” The words came out mechanically, though I didn’t mean for them too. I’d said them so many times as part of my work that I felt they no longer had meaning, but I always meant them in my heart. Words were so useless sometimes.

  “Carlos is in a better place,” Mrs. Moore said, and then launched in to a coughing fit, sputtering and wheezing.

  “Let me see if the doctor will let me give you a breathing treatment, ma’am,” I said. “Please excuse me for a minute.”

  I got the necessary permission from Dr. Thomas and prepared a nebulizer. Then I headed back into room two.

  Mrs. Moore had fallen asleep. Poor thing. I prepared the treatment and placed the mask over her face and started the treatment.

  Then—

  Oh, God. Her lips were tinged with blue.

  My nerves jumped. Lack of oxygen. I felt her neck for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. “Code blue!” I yelled.

  Dr. Thomas came running, along with Dr. Crown.

  “Status?” Logan said.

  “Patient is ninety years old. I went to get permission for a neb treatment, came back, and now her pulse is faint. Lips and nail beds show signs of cyanosis.”

  “She’s still breathing. Get some oxygen ready,” Dr. Thomas said. “Stat. Then hook her up to the EKG.”

  I prepared the tank and got the tubes hooked up to Mrs. Moore’s nose. Logan cut her blouse down the middle, and I hooked up the EKG.

  “Pulse rate is below forty,” Logan said. “Bradycardia.”

  Then the dreaded shrill buzz.

  “Flatlining!” Logan yelled. “Prepare the paddles, Erin.”

  Logan and Dr. Thomas tried for several minutes to jumpstart Mrs. Moore’s heart while I watched, white noise permeating my ears.

  “Time of death, twelve twenty-four a.m.,” Dr. Thomas said.

  I bit my lower lip.

  Mrs. Moore was ninety years old. She’d lived long, had lost a son, a husband. The flu would have ravaged her body and might have killed her in the end. Perhaps this was a blessing.

  How I wished I believed all of that bullshit.

  It never got any easier.

  I arched my eyebrows at Dr. Thomas, and she nodded, so I left the exam room.

  I didn’t cry over patients. Not anymore. But I always needed a moment after losing one. Dr. Thomas understood that. Even Dr. Bonneville understood that.

  I slumped against the wall in the hallway and let out a heavy sigh.

  Logan walked up to me. “Hey. You okay?”

  Logan and I hadn’t talked about what had happened—or rather, what hadn’t happened—between us, why a maniac had chased him out of my home after I’d thrown myself at him. But that didn’t matter at the moment. As healthcare providers, we understood each other in this situation.

  “We were in the middle of a conversation. She was alert, lucid. Then she started coughing, and I only left the room for a moment to prepare a neb.”

  “She was ninety, Erin.”

  “I know. It’s just that—”

  “Hey. It’s okay.”

  Then the tears came. I buried my head in Logan’s smock and cried.

  Why? I never cried over patients.

  But this one had been special. I didn’t know how or why, but in the marrow of my bones, I felt it. Mrs. Moore had something to tell me.

  Something I’d never know now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dante

  Bill was in his office, as usual. I knocked.

  “Come in, Dante.”

  I entered, images swirling in my mind. I opened my mouth, but words did not come.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  I sat down in a leather chair across from his desk. “Yes.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’m working on having some portions of the texts translated, and when you’re—”

  “No.” I held up my hand. “I mean yes. I’m ready to learn the texts. But I’m also ready to…”

  “Yes?”

  I inhaled deeply. I had to talk. Had to tell someone what had happened to me, at least the parts I could remember. Bill was the logical choice. I scanned his office. On his wall hung a photo of him when he was a young father. Next to him was Marcheline, my grandmother, who had died before I was born. They each held one of their twin sons. Uncle Braedon sat on Bill’s lap, while my grandmother held my father, Julian.

  Next to that photo hung an older photo of Bill as a child with my great-grandfather. His mother had died in childbirth. I shuddered inwardly, trying not to think of Emilia suffering the same fate.

  Photos of River, Em, and me as kids were scattered here and there. River and I could have passed for twins when we were toddlers. We’d gone everywhere together, had been inseparable. Up until that night ten years ago…

  I cleared my throat.

  “I don’t remember what happened. Riv and I sneaked out to the French Quarter.”

  “Y
es, I know. He came back. You didn’t. His memories begin when he got back here, and he was badly burned. He said the two of you drank a lot.”

  “Yeah. We gave money to a homeless guy to buy us liquor. We let him keep the change.”

  “Yes. That’s what River says.”

  “We drank this bottle of rotgut really fast, and things get pretty fuzzy after that.”

  “What’s the next thing you remember?”

  “Waking up in a dark room. I was lying down, and I couldn’t move. I didn’t realize it at first, but my ankles and wrists were bound.”

  “Was anyone else there?”

  I closed my eyes. “No. Not at first. I don’t think so.”

  Darkness. Were my eyes open? Throb. Throb. My head pulsed in time with my heart, each beat like a jackhammer inside my skull. Even my teeth hurt.

  I willfully forced my eyes open.

  Still, darkness.

  I was dying. That had to be it. My head would explode any minute now.

  Throb. Throb. Throb.

  I held up my hand in front of my face.

  Couldn’t see it.

  Wait. Was it there? Had it moved?

  I pulled against resistance.

  My hand. Couldn’t move my hand.

  My skin went cold as my heart sped up. What was happening?

  “Help! Someone help me! Please!”

  My nerves skittered beneath my skin as raw fear pulsed through me.

  My hands, my legs. Couldn’t move.

  “I’m dying! Please! Someone help me! Help! Help! Dad! Help me!” My voice was hoarse, raspy, and it hurt to yell.

  Couldn’t see. So dark… Even my acute vampire vision couldn’t decipher anything.

  Then a sliver of light. A door opened.

  “Who are you?” I yelled. “Why am I here?”

  “I couldn’t see. I didn’t know why at the time. I always thought vampires could see in the dark.”

  “We can. Unless there’s nothing to see.”

  “Yes. Yes.” Memories rolled back into me. Memories I’d wished to forget. “It was a dark, empty room, and I was on my back. Couldn’t move. Nothing to see but the ceiling, and I couldn’t even see that.”