INTO THE FIRE (Forbidden Love) (13 page)

“I know,” Jacque told her. “We all would. But for now, all we can do is wait.”

“Ugh.”

Both Leigh’s and Jacque’s heads whipped around to look at Rebel. His brow was wrinkled, his face pinched in a grimace.

“Rebel?” Leigh asked, leaning over him.

“Mmm,” was his answer.

“Rebel,” Jacque said, louder than Leigh had. “Are you back, Brother?”

Rebel grimaced harder. He looked like he was trying to wake up from a bad dream. He twitched under his blanket. Leigh jerked the cover back and grasped his hand, squeezing it in her own. He squeezed her back. Weakly, but the motion was there.

“Talk to me,” she whispered.

Rebel’s mouth began to work, but no sound came out. Leigh leaned down closer to him. “What? I couldn’t hear you.”

His mouth moved again. The sound was barely more than a hoarse whisper. “Thirsty.”

“Hot damn!” Jacque exclaimed, leaping out of his chair. He shouted mental updates to his brothers while racing for the kitchen. He ran into Gage on the stairs, barely muttering that Rebel was awake and thirsty before darting into the kitchen at inhuman speed.

He opened the fridge, retrieved a bottle of blood, popped it into the microwave and waited. The one minute it took to warm the blood to ninety eight degrees was horrendously long. But the microwave finally beeped and Jacque removed the bottle and raced back to Rebel’s room.

He forced his way into the room, having to shove his brothers who had gathered already aside. Leigh had wiggled herself behind Rebel so that he was kind of sitting up with his head on her chest. “Here man, I brought you something.” Jacque thrust the bottle forward, and Leigh took it from him.

She angled the bottle to Rebel’s lips and tipped it. The warmed blood trickled into his mouth slowly at first, but as his throat began to work, he pulled it down faster. Only when the bottle was drained did Leigh remove it from his lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Welcome back, Cowboy,” Leigh replied with false irritation. Her smile belied her sarcastic tone and Rebel sagged back against her.

“Want more?” Jacque asked.

“I’ll get it,” Gage offered.

Rebel shook his head.

“Is there anything you want?” Antonio asked.

“We were worried for you,
Mon Ami
,” Angel said.

Rebel didn’t have the strength to reply. He knew that he needed blood to recover, but at that moment, his stomach didn’t agree. The thought was actually kind of repulsive to him. He had burned up all his strength forcing that crap Jacque had brought down his throat.

That was something important, his mind warned him. Rebel tried to sit up again to say as much, but his stomach lurched. He managed to turn away from Leigh and get his head over the side of the bed before vomiting violently.

“Shit!”

“
Merde
!”

“Hell!”

A chorus of expletives rang out around him as he emptied the blood from his stomach. He wished everyone except Leigh would just go away. But he couldn’t tell them that. Every time he opened his mouth, he gagged. He retched until there was nothing left, and still his body heaved. He almost wished he would just die and get the shit over with once and for all. The last thing he thought before the darkness took him over was that this was really, really bad.

SIXTEEN

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?” Gage insisted after Rebel passed out again.

“I don’t know,” Jacque said, shaking his spiked head. “Blood is what he needs, but his body can hold no more. I can’t keep feeding it to him when he’s already full.”

“Did you stop to think that perhaps it made him sick because it was not his mate’s?” Angel offered.

All heads turned in his direction. “What do you mean?” Sebastian asked, slowly.

“I mean, he wears Leigh’s mark, or had no one noticed?” Angel answered, gesturing to Rebel’s neck.

Leigh gently turned his head to expose Rebel’s neck. There was a deep, black and gold tattoo on his neck that hadn’t been there before. The lines curved and licked at his skin like a flame. It looked like a flame. Fire. Dragon.

Fuck.

“He had given himself to you, and you to him,” Angel told her. “You wear his mark as well.”

Leigh’s fingers automatically went to her neck where Rebel had bitten her. Angel nodded.

“But, I don’t understand,” Leigh reluctantly admitted.

“Many mated vampires can only drink from their mates,” Gage explained. “To some it is a choice, but to others, it is a physical impossibility to drink from someone else. Rebel is obviously one that must drink from his mated woman.”

“But my blood did this to him!” she wailed.

“We will find a way,” Jacque told her. “In the mean time, I believe congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you,” Leigh muttered. “But I don’t see how any of this can come out good.”

“Stay with him. When he wakes again, let him feed from you if that is what he needs.” Angel motioned for his men to leave the room. “Jacque will continue working on finding a cure for this, whatever it is. We are all at your disposal, Leigh.” He bowed to her deep at the waist and placed his hand over his heart.

Leigh watched the five vampires leave the room. She wished there was something she could do to fix this mess she had made. But she didn’t have a clue how. She would have given anything to take it back. Anything at all. Even if it meant that she had never met him. He was irritating, sure, but Leigh found herself quite fond of him. She wished she was the one who was sick instead. The thought surprised her as much as she knew she meant it. But then, that’s what people did for people they loved.

Loved. Hell. Holy mother of every damned curse word she ever thought and then some.

She loved him. That stupid, stalker, inconsiderate, pushy, no-brained, cowboy/vampire had wormed his way into her heart and she loved him. And it terrified her. What if he died? What if he lived? What if he recovered and Merrick found out and killed him?

No, she would not let any more harm come to her mate. She would find a way to feed him. She would do whatever it took to nurse him back to health, and then, she would protect him with her life. She made this vow to herself and to her mate as she spooned her body around the back of his and pulled the cover up over them both. She draped her arm around his chest and held him tight to her own.
Mine
, she thought as she drifted off into a much needed sleep.

When Rebel woke up again sometime later, and he had no idea how long that was, he was covered in a sheen of sweat. There was something very warm wrapped around his body. Not something, he realized, but someone. Leigh was curled around his back, her leg thrown over his, her arm around his middle. In fact, she had a death grip on him. Her breathing was smooth and even, telling him without a doubt that she had fallen asleep. He smiled.

He really needed to get something to drink. His throat was dry as the Sahara, his eyes were gritty and felt like he had poured two cups of sand in each one. Aside from that, he felt pretty decent. Tired, hungry, thirsty, and like he had been run over by a Mac truck, but overall, he thought he might live.

His stomach growled. It hadn’t done that in ages. Not so long as he could remember. Not since before he turned. He was hungry. For food. And, he had to use the bathroom. Of course, he had that problem before. A vampire didn’t need the facilities unless they ate food or drank something other than blood. Blood was absorbed into the body, but food and drink was digested just like humans did. But as far as he could remember, he hadn’t had any food or drink.

He let his eyes wander the room. An IV had been set up and some kind of yellowish liquid was dripping into his veins. No wonder he had to pee. He had been pumped full of fluids. Rebel knew that it was nutrients that his body needed. Jacque had set him up. He would have to thank his brother.

He listened to the sounds of the house. Since it was very quiet, Rebel decided that it must be daytime. His brothers would all be sleeping now. Leigh must have stayed up with him all night. He loved the way her body felt snuggled up against his. He liked the way she curled around him possessively. Memories flitted into his mind. Glimpses of the press release, of the argument that followed. He remembered with startling clarity all the things he had let Leigh do to him. She was a firecracker, that one. But she was his.

And then, he remembered the pain. He remembered being surrounded by darkness. He remembered everything.

What the hell happened? He had been sick, but now he felt much better. And he remembered throwing up. Yuck. He never was fond of retching. But then again, who was? He couldn’t think of anyone who wanted vomit spewing from their mouths; and of course it always came out his nose. In fact, he could still smell it. Disgusting. Regardless, he was going to have to put something in his stomach.

As if to further the point, he stomach growled again.

Rebel untangled himself from Leigh’s limbs as gently as he could. He didn’t want to wake her. He knew that she must have been very stressed and worried for him, and she needed the rest. It wasn’t easy, but he finally managed to free himself from the cage of her body. He pulled the IV from his arm and tied the tube in a knot to keep it from dripping all over the floor.

Once he was standing, Rebel had to hold the post of the bed frame for support. A wave of vertigo washed over him and for just a second, he thought he might hit the floor again. But he regained his balance and set out for the bathroom. A quick peek out the bathroom window told him that it was in fact, daytime. Rebel shrugged. He had no idea how long he’d been down sick, so in fact, his sense of time was just off.

After taking care of business and washing his hands, Rebel went for the kitchen. The kitchen was dark and quiet, but Rebel had no trouble finding the refrigerator. He winced as he opened it and the light shone brightly against the otherwise dark room.

He started to grab one of the many bottles of blood stored there, but the thought of throwing up again detoured that idea. Instead, he felt a demanding craving for orange juice. Maybe he was low on vitamin C. After rooting around a bit, he found a small juice box. It no doubt belonged to Jade, Angel’s daughter, but she would share.

Rebel popped the straw through the tiny opening and lifted the box to his lips. The first pull surprised him. He hadn’t had orange juice in years, but he thought he remembered what it tasted like. He had been wrong. The tangy flavor exploded on his tongue, both acidic and sweet. He rolled the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing it down. It felt cold and delicious going down his throat. When it hit his stomach, Rebel tensed. He waited for the urge to vomit, but it didn’t come. Instead, he wanted more.

He drained the little box in less than thirty seconds. He crushed the box and tossed it over his shoulder in the general direction of the trash can. By the sound it made, Rebel could tell he missed. His throat was still dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper. More, he had to have more. He got another. And then, another. But still, it wasn’t enough. He wanted food. And not just rare steak like most vampires ate. He spied a cheese stick in the meat drawer of the fridge. He pulled the plastic off of it and bit off a bite.

Heaven.

The texture was exquisite on his tongue, as was the tangy taste of sharp cheddar. More. With the cheese stick hanging out of his mouth, he began to load his arms with an assortment of items from the fridge. He filled his arms with sandwich meat, lettuce, cheese, tomato, and some kind of leftover pasta. He spread it all out on the dining room table and began to hunt the cabinets as well. He found bread, crackers, cookies, and hash, among other things. He laid his bounty on the table and started to eat.

Ham sandwiches were wonderful. Rebel remembered how much he used to like tomatoes, and he bit into one without bothering to cut it first. He hadn’t gotten any silverware on his foraging stint, anyway. The juice ran down his chin as he chomped down for a second bite. Delicious.

He shoved a handful of the cold pasta in his mouth and wanted to weep with joy. The flavor of garlic and herbs caressed his taste buds and made him moan. He scooped up another. He chewed. The pasta was something Italian, but Rebel couldn’t remember what it was called. It had some kind of white wine sauce on it, thick sauce that clung to the noodles and coated his mouth like a blanket.

He washed it down with another juice box. This time, it was apple. He made a mental note to replace Jade’s drink stash.

And cookies! How long had it been since he ate cookies? Too damned long, that’s how long. Chocolate chip cookies were most definitely food of the Gods, he thought as he shoved two in his mouth at the same time.

Milk. He needed milk. Who could eat cookies without milk? Rebel shoved out of his chair and yanked open the refrigerator. He opened the milk and drank straight from the carton. A river of white ran down the sides of his mouth and down his neck. Rebel swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and sat back down at the table where his buffet was spread, taking the milk carton with him. He shoved another cookie in his mouth, ripping the packaging beyond repair in his haste.

When he had eaten as much as his body could hold, Rebel sat back in his chair and put his hand on his swollen stomach with pleasantly content smirk on his face. Then he yawned. Eating was very tiresome.

Jacque sat back from his microscope and rubbed his eyes. He yanked the ear buds out of his ears and he could still hear his favorite
Disturbed
album blaring from his IPod. He had been staring at the sample of Rebel’s blood for hours, watching whatever was attacking it and changing his cells at an unstoppable rate. The invader was best described as some kind of retro-virus. It was impervious to all sorts of chemicals. Jacque had introduced a variety of immunizations and antibody agents into the sample, but it had been futile. Whatever it was forged on within Rebel’s blood like an army of mercenaries, attacking and conquering all it came across. The virus, for lack of a better word, was multiplying spontaneously and relentlessly.