Bite of Envy (Just One Bite #4) (10 page)

She didn't see the ivory cat following in her wake, growling
and hissing under his breath as he ran on padded feet after her.
Lizbeth, we have trouble
, he thought to
her as he ran. Shifting effortlessly to human form, he filled her in as he
jumped into Dia's car, grabbed the spare keys from their hiding place under the
steering wheel, and followed Sandra into the night.

"Please, please, don't do this," Sandra pleaded,
tears rolling down her face. She had arrived for her meeting and climbed
anxiously out of her car, but as soon as her back was turned there was a pain
in the back of her head and everything went dark. When she woke she found
herself tied to a tree, Carson standing in front of her with a mocking
expression on his face.

Carson stalked over to her and turned one hand palm-up,
drawing the knife cleanly and deep through one wrist. "Oh, but you see, I
have to do this. No, I want to do this," he said conversationally as he
turned the other wrist over and cut into that one as well.

Tears continued unchecked, and her voice came out in a sob.
"Why would you do this to me? I haven't done anything to you," she
whimpered. She struggled ineffectually against her bonds, knowing she couldn't
get free but the fight or flight instinct was working strongly in her at this
point, and she'd become more wild animal than human now. Blood seeped into her
top and pants, making them tacky but not changing the color very much. Looking
down, she realized that her life was pouring forth from her veins, and no one
would even notice because so much of it was absorbed into the fabric.

Carson leaned forward and she made a keening sound deep in
her throat, desperately trying to stay away from him as he planted a gentle
kiss on her lips before laughing at her once more. "I'm not doing this
because of you. You don't matter, Sandra- you never did. This is all for
Lizbeth," he said, acid dripping from his tone as he raised the knife and
pressed it against her throat.

But before he could make too deep of a cut on her pearly
white skin, a blur tackled him to the ground, growling and snarling. As her
consciousness ebbed away, Sandra whispered, "Lizbeth…" and then she
knew no more.

"No," Carson howled, pain radiating through him as
someone tore off his left arm. He struck a blow that bought him some time,
using the fist of the arm that was still attached. Rolling to the side, he
awkwardly used his one remaining arm to push himself to a standing position.
Shock was plain on his handsome face as he realized who stood before him.
"Eamon?"

Eamon growled again, feet planted firmly, a solid barrier
between Carson and Sandra's weakening body. "Leave, now," he ordered,
stalking forward, enjoying the hasty retreat of the twisted district attorney.
"Leave, or you will die this night, right here, at my hands, the way you
should have all those years before, Balfleur."

"So you figured it out," Carson mocked, even as he
backed up yet another step. "But it doesn't matter. You can have this
woman, if there's anything left to save. We'll meet another night," he
said, giving a sarcastic little bow before flying off into the night, clutching
his severed arm.

Eamon watched until he wasn't even a speck in the night sky
before hastily undoing the bonds that held Sandra to the tree. Her pulse was
nearly non-existent, and he knew time was of the essence as he left Diandra's
car where it was and flew to where Lizbeth waited anxiously, Diandra at her
side. Adrian was at home guarding RaeLynn, and the baby slept undisturbed while
life shifted patterns around her once more.

He landed in the park where, months before, they had
gathered with Jonah to hear him out and agree to help save his life. The women
ran to him as he laid Sandra carefully on the ground at his feet. Lizbeth
collapsed beside her. "Oh, Sandra, no," she whispered, searching
franticly for a pulse. She held her breath, wanting to keep her own body's
rhythms from interfering with the hunt. Finally she found it, although it was
weak and no stronger than the flap of a butterfly's wings.

"She's still alive, I can save her," Lizzie cried,
leaning forward and letting her canines lengthen into glistening fangs. Diandra
knocked her backwards, sending her from her precarious kneeling position to a
more undignified one. Startled, she continued to sit on the ground, the ass of
her jeans soaking up the dew as she gazed in shock at the woman she loved, and
then back to the woman she had once thought she'd loved.

"You cannot change her," Dia said calmly, sympathy
filling her lilac orbs. "It is against our rules, you know that. I'm
sorry, baby, but you have to let her go." She knelt beside Sandra and
closed those pain-filled green eyes. Lizzie flashed her eyes to Eamon, but he
merely nodded his agreement and turned his back on them, unwilling to involve
himself any further.

Lizbeth pushed Diandra as well, turning away from her
offered comfort. She snarled in surprise when she found herself a few feet
away, and hurt filled those lovely eyes as Lizbeth turned her back to her and
bent over Sandra once more. Drawing a deep, cleansing breath, she slapped
Sandy's face with a bit of force behind it, watching the pain fill the green
eyes as they blinked slowly at her.

"Do you want to die?" Lizbeth asked bluntly.
Sandra's mouth formed the word, "No" but she wasn't strong enough to
make herself heard. "I'm a vampire, Sandy. I can turn you. I can save your
life, but it will be a life unlike the one you're used to living. Do you want
this?" She showed her fangs, and saw Eamon put his head in his hands out
of the corner of her eye. Diandra was still where Lizbeth had tossed her, and
it was like she was alone with the reporter.

Sandra's eyes filled with fear, and she let out a tiny
whimper. Lizbeth could see the struggle in her eyes- did she want to flee? Did
she want this new life rather than the death she was facing? Finally acceptance
swam over her features, and she nodded grimly at Lizzie. "Save me,"
she mouthed, and Lizbeth knew what had to be done. Ignoring Eamon's groan of
unhappiness, and Diandra's sigh of heartache, she bent forward, laid her fangs
to the wound on Sandra's throat, and bit deep.

Blood welled into her mouth, and with a low moan she drank
it in. She sucked greedily, thinking how good the blood tasted when it was
fresh from a vein rather than from a glass or a baggie. Eamon's voice cut into
her thoughts as she drank.
You must make
a cut on your tongue after she's drained, then force your blood into the vein
with your will. If the cut on your tongue heals before she stirs, bite into it
a second time and repeat the pattern. But be warned- sometimes it doesn't take.
If after the second bite, your tongue heals and she doesn't wake, she is beyond
your reach. You will have to let her go, regardless of what you want. It is the
nature of vampirism, and she may be resistant to it. Bite down now, and may the
future be the one you're seeking, and not one of pain.
His voice in her
head was full of regret, but she ignored him as she did as he bid her.

Lizbeth bit her tongue once, pushing her blood into the vein
her fangs were imbedded in. All too soon the miniscule cut healed, so she
steeled herself and bit harder, deeper, allowing more blood to flow into
Sandra's stiffened body. She knew the woman was in pain, but this was so much
better than dying at the hands of a madman. After all, was it so much different
from what Lizbeth herself had faced? The second bite was nearly closed, and
Lizbeth whimpered even as she forced more blood from her rapidly healing
tongue. Sandra gasped and cried out before going limp. Lizbeth backed away, her
tongue now fully healed. Looking down at Sandra's dead body, she collapsed to
the ground and wept like a child. She'd failed, and Sandra was dead, and it was
all her fault. Carson only went after Sandy because he wanted to hurt Lizzie,
and he'd succeeded.

A hand brushed Lizbeth's arm, and she withdrew even further
into herself for a moment, allowing herself to grieve over the loss of someone
who had once meant so much to her. Finally, the tears subsided and she reached
blindly for the hand that sought to comfort her. Gripping it with all her
might, she blinked the tears from her vision and locked eyes with a pair of
shrewd green ones. "Sandy?" she whispered, hardly daring to believe
that she'd done it. She'd not failed after all.

Sandra smiled at her. "Hey, Liz, you have some
explaining to do," she said softly before fainting. Lizbeth grabbed her,
pulling her close and rising to her feet in one quick movement. She looked at
Eamon - his face was unreadable, and she flinched away from it. Steeling
herself, she turned to look at Diandra, only to find the woman she loved beyond
all reason and beyond every barrier was no longer there.

Diandra paced around her parlor, her emotions whirling and
her face changing expression frequently from acceptance to grief to hurt and
back again. The plan was to keep Sandra alive, kill Carson, and then the woman
would leave. Now she was a part of their lives, like it or not, for they
couldn't just let her go out into the world with no one to protect her. She
would have to learn as Dia herself had learned, and as Lizzie was still doing
now. Untrained, she was as helpless as a newborn, or as dangerous as a jungle
cat, whether she accepted that or not. She would have to be eased into this new
life, and that meant she would be with them for who knows how long. Diandra
threw back her head and screamed her displeasure to the ceiling, making the
room ring with the force of her emotions.

Adrian rushed in from the kitchen. Diandra had been so
silent that he hadn't known she was home. She had simply shouted for him to
watch RaeLynn as she and Lizbeth left. He stood in doorway, gripping the door
they had neglected to shut in their haste, and watched as Dia scooped Lizzie up
in her arms and flew off into the night. Now Dia was back, but Lizzie was
nowhere to be found.

Taking Diandra's arm gently, he stilled her anguished
movements. "What happened?" he asked gently, and she sank to the
floor and sobbed her heartache into his shoulder. He held her tight, whispering
soothing, nonsensical words until the flood cut off as abruptly as it began.
Pulling back from his comfort, she wiped her eyes and told him what had
happened.

Adrian sat silently for a moment, his mind working furiously
as he put all the pieces together and tried to figure out what they might mean.
Sandra would continue to stay with them, as she would need help. Diandra didn’t
want this interloper living among them, and Lizbeth… well, who knew what Lizzie
wanted?

Finally he spoke. “Dia, honey, you know Lizbeth didn’t make
this decision to hurt you, right? It may not have been the best choice, or the
smartest, but it was the only one she could live with. Carson wanted Sandra
dead to stop her from writing a story about his true nature, but his main
motivation was to punish Lizbeth. She’s been a thorn in his side, hurting him
at every turn- financially, physically, however she could. He wanted Sandra to
die just to see Lizbeth suffer, and if he’d succeeded in one, he’d succeed in
both. She would never forgive herself for Sandra’s death, so she did what she
could to make sure that didn’t happen.” He laid a gentle hand on her arm.
“Really, can you blame her? Would you let Sandra die for sins not of her own
making?”

Diandra shook her head and sniffled. “No, I suppose not,”
she said reluctantly. “But damnit, Adrian, now she’ll stand a better chance at
coming between Lizzie and I. Lizbeth will feel responsible for her, and that
gives her a foot in the door.”

Adrian grinned at her. “Well then, I suppose you may have to
cut that foot off then, huh?” And with that, he threw his head back and roared
with laughter. After a moment of stunned silence, Diandra joined him.

A short while later, Lizbeth turned the car into the
driveway. In Dia’s anger, she’d flown home rather than drive, and Lizzie was
grateful for that as she could not yet fly herself. She’d lifted Sandra, still
groggy, into the back seat, laid her down gently and covered her with the spare
blanket. Eamon had rolled his eyes at her before climbing into the passenger
seat and ignoring her the short distance home. As soon as they pulled into the
drive, he climbed out and promptly shifted back to his feline form. Turning his
back on Lizzie, he flicked his tail in agitation and returned to his usual spot
under the lilac bush.

Shaking her head, Lizbeth helped Sandy out of the car and
into the house. “We’re back,” she yelled before leading Sandra up the stairs to
the guest room. She helped Sandy sit down on the bed and ran her a bath,
knowing from past experience that the first thing she’d want would be to get
clean. “Are you able to get yourself undressed and into the tub safely?” Lizzie
asked, and Sandy nodded without speaking. She had yet to say anything since
she’d come around, but Lizbeth didn’t take it personally. She knew that
sometimes it was easier that way, staying quiet, trying to make life make sense
once more. She’d been the same, after all. “All right, I’ll be downstairs when
you’re ready to talk.” Lizbeth shut the guest room door behind her and headed,
resigned, downstairs to face the music.

She found Dia and Adrian in the parlor, as she expected.
Adrian was playing with RaeLynn in between bites of her dinner. Rae was growing
so quickly, Lizzie thought with a pang. She knew it happened, it was supposed
to happen, but you never actually noticed it until it hit you like a blow. She
was still only slightly bigger than other babies her age, but she was babbling
now, mainly “mama,” which she said to both Diandra and Lizbeth. She called
Eamon “On” and Adrian was “Ian.” Not quite seven months old, she was already
cruising holding on to furniture, and could keep her balance to turn and reach
for the coffee table from the couch, or vice versa. They’d have even less time
to enjoy childhood with her than most parents had with their kids, and Lizbeth
hated Jonah for that. He’d robbed this beautiful baby of a normal childhood,
and wherever he was, Lizzie hoped he was suffering an eternity of torment. He
deserved nothing less for his multitude of sins.