Blood Lust (12 page)

The vampire turned sharp eyes on her. “I’m sorry, little one, how long have you lived in our world? Have you really survived this long with such a simplistic understanding of it?”

Greta changed tactics, this time addressing Dayne, practically pleading with him to see reason. “Are you really going to let him take her?”

“We don’t have a choice. Linus is bad news.”

Tears began to well in the corners of her eyes. She pointed an accusing finger at the vampire. “He’ll hurt her. Look at what he’s already done.”

Anthony’s fangs were out, and his eyes glowed red. He wanted nothing more than to drain the life from the irritating little therian. He couldn’t believe he’d bothered to save her life. And now he had complications to deal with as a result of that choice.

“Anthony.” Dayne’s voice was even. The vampire took a deep breath and allowed his eyes to melt from red back to blue and willed his fangs to recede into his gums. He sent a derisive look toward the therian.

“If I wanted to hurt her, I’d hand deliver her to Linus, not insist she be kept from him. I don’t want to hear any more of your tantrums.”

She had her hands on her hips and was about to open her mouth again.

“Greta, don’t,” Dayne said. “I’m barely holding onto the glamour. I can’t keep Anthony off you at the same time.”

The vampire smirked.

“I don’t love the plan either, but it’s all we’ve got.”

“Why can’t we just drop the glamours and tell her everything?” Greta said.

Anthony growled softly. “Because it’s against the law. The preternatural council will excuse your carelessness in letting a human in on our secrets because you were under duress at the time, and your life was in danger. But it would not be forgotten nor forgiven a second time.

“If I win the upcoming tournament, I’ll be on that council. Something you might keep in mind. You know if she were to learn all of this, her memory would have to be wiped again. I fail to see how you, as her friend, could justify such an act when her mind has already been so damaged.”

He might as well have lifted further accusations from her mind by the look in her eyes.

“I’m taking her with me and that’s the end of it. Dayne is right; she’s my responsibility. Should I not find a way to return her memory, I will return her safely to her home the moment the tournament ends and Linus has left town, assuming he doesn’t win and become the next leader. If he does, we’ve all got far bigger problems than one girl’s amnesia.”

Charlee crouched on the other side of a weather-beaten door at the foot of the stairs leading to the lab. The tall blond man––Anthony was it? They’d said he was a doctor there to help her. If that were true why had her stomach clenched in anxiety when he’d stepped through the doorway? It was the same type of fear she’d experienced when she and Greta had arrived at the cottage several hours earlier. Surely she had to know him to react so strongly.

The wooden door before her was thick with knotholes, but it was old and falling apart. There were wide spaces between the slats, and she was sure she’d be able to see through into the lab. But when she looked through the gaps there was nothing but blackness, as if a thick velvet curtain had been put up for privacy.

She pressed her ear against the door but found that did no good either. Charlee wondered if they were standing at the far corner of the lab next to the refrigerator full of strange vials, whispering about her. What was so secret they couldn’t just say it in front of her? It was her life after all.

She let her legs come out from under her, unfolding herself from her crouched position, and slumped, frustrated at her inability to discover what was going on. An orange tabby wound its way down the stairs and let out a little “mrarrr,” before settling on her lap and purring.

Great. The cat probably knew more about Charlee than Charlee did. She was caught up in the self-pity loop when the door swung open. The cat made an unearthly howl and skittered away into the darkness.

“Let me help you up.”

Charlee’s head rose to find Anthony towering over her in the doorway, his hand outstretched. He had the face of an angel, no doubt a body to match. And aside from his all-black ensemble, he appeared magnetic but nonthreatening. As enticing as the light a moth flits to. Yet every muscle in her body was poised to run, and every synapse in her brain agreed.

She crab-walked backward and used the crevices in the stone wall to hoist herself up, ignoring the offered hand. She began the journey up the winding staircase, refusing to look behind her to see if the man was following.

When she got to the living area, she went straight to the bookcase, needing a distraction to keep her gaze from drifting back to the terrifying stranger. She scanned the titles of the medical books, trying to look natural, then reached out to pluck one off the shelf.

“Don’t touch that.”

She turned, startled to find Dayne standing behind her. He reached over and pressed the book back in line with the others.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

It was just a book on anatomy. Maybe it was rude to go through other people’s books, but it was at least equally rude to leave an amnesiac alone in a strange house and then go off to have a secret meeting about her.

The blond man sat in the center of one of the red leather couches, his arms stretched on either side of him across the back of the seat. His long legs were splayed casually, the way some men sat, as if trying to stretch to fill the entire room with their presence. Anthony didn’t require a special seating position to accomplish that effect.

Greta sat on the opposite couch, glaring at him.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Dayne said, gesturing to the place beside Greta.

Not knowing what else to do, Charlee took the seat and looked down at her hands, uncomfortable that these people she couldn’t remember, but must know, were deciding her fate.

“Charlotte.” Anthony’s rich baritone pierced the silence.

She avoided his gaze. “Yes?” Her voice came out more cracked than she’d intended.

“Dayne and Greta have asked that I put you up at my place for a little while for observation.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to take me to the hospital if I need to be observed?” Charlee directed her words to Dayne who still stood beside the bookcase. He looked tired.

Anthony answered for him. “You don’t have insurance, and I’m a friend of Dayne’s. No charge.”

Charlee wasn’t so sure about that. “But I don’t feel bad. I’ve just lost my memory. Isn’t it better that I be around my things so I can remember?”

Again the question was directed to Dayne, and again Anthony intercepted it. “We’ll stop and get your things.”

Charlee looked desperately to Greta who clutched the sofa arm nearest her, gritting her teeth. Her eyes went back to Dayne, who looked as if he might collapse any second. He seemed deep in concentration and not altogether there.

“Why can’t I just stay here?” This time she made the mistake of looking at the doctor. A smug look crossed his features and sent a shiver of something she didn’t quite recognize shooting down her spine.

“Come here,” Anthony said.

She didn’t know why she stood and walked the few feet to where he sat, still smirking up at her. She felt like an insect caught in a spider’s web, unable to take her eyes off him.

He reached out and took her hand. Immediately, peace and comfort washed over her, and she knew she must have misinterpreted her feelings before. Maybe even Greta’s reaction.

A new scenario presented itself, filling in gaps where no memories lived. Maybe she’d been in love with Anthony and he’d broken her heart. It would explain why it felt so right when he touched her and why Greta didn’t want her to stay with him. With no memory, she must have felt more fear than the circumstances warranted.

Anthony’s voice cut through her inner monologue. “That would be quite impossible. Dayne is feeling ill at the moment and needs to rest.”

Dayne looked more faint than he had even a few moments before.

“We must leave now,” Anthony said. He stood, pulling an unresisting Charlee with him.

“Okay.” Her voice carried a dreamy lilt she barely recognized as her own. She would be fine with Anthony. Whatever was in their past, he’d put it aside to help her. She was sure of it.

***

During the drive to Charlotte’s house, Anthony made sure he was touching her. One hand guided the steering wheel, the other rested on the seat next to her, his fingertips just grazing her thigh. If he were an ordinary man, she would find the touch inappropriate, especially coming from someone claiming to be acting as her physician. She would have moved the few inches necessary to be out of his easy reach.

It was a simple matter for a vampire to control the mind and actions of another, but to guide emotion was more difficult. The fight-or-flight instinct so ingrained in humans could not be so easily shut down. A vampire had to be touching his prey to influence emotion.

Anthony had to be careful with this one. He couldn’t upset her, with later plans to erase the event from her memory. Her mind was already too jumbled and damaged. Further memory wipes could make recovery impossible.

If it’s not already. His jaw tightened, angry at the thought.

He popped a CD into the player and classical music drifted out of the speakers. When he’d calmed, he found himself distracted again by the racing of her pulse. It had sped considerably in the last few minutes, though not from fear.

He caught her eyes and smiled, then tuned in to her thoughts to find she’d convinced herself the reason she hadn’t pulled away from his touch yet was because she found him attractive. He’d promised himself he would try to avoid controlling her thoughts and behaviors, but emotions were another story. This he could work with.

Why do I even care how she feels? She’s human. Yes, he found her amusing and admired her fire and the way she’d stood up to him before the incident, but he didn’t regularly concern himself this strongly with the affairs or well-being of a mere human. No one was that interesting.

Though he did wish to avoid creating an unwanted enemy this close to the tournament. While he believed on an even playing field he stood a strong chance against Wickham, now was not the time to test the theory.

Take her, his mind whispered. He turned his attention back to the road, ignoring the insistence of his darker side that wanted to stop the car and have another taste of her blood this instant. Rain had started coming down, and though his visibility wasn’t impaired, he flicked on the windshield wipers.

His eyes drifted every few minutes to her throat, his ears tuned in to the thrumming of her pulse, the sound almost dwarfing the music. He wasn’t sure if it had been the drugs in his system the night before, or if Charlotte was one of those humans that just tasted better. Like gourmet chocolate after a life of Hershey.

His fangs twitched and sought to push through his gums, but he forced them to recede. Biting her now would only make things worse. The tournament was too close to introduce new variables.

There were many contenders for the title of vampire king, but Anthony was most concerned about Linus. If Linus got control of the coven, it would be the vampire equivalent of the Dark Ages. As much as his kind loved and thrived in darkness, there were limits to everything. And now Anthony had this little human to contend with, a mess Linus would love to take away from him and use to his own advantage.

Fuck. How will I pull off acting human? He’d have to control the speed with which he did things in his own home and moderate his strength. He’d have to be sure he didn’t let her see how unnaturally keen his senses were. He’d have to partake in real food. He’d have to be careful not to look at her as if she were a piece of veal if she happened to cut herself.

“How did you know where I lived?”

Anthony looked up. He’d driven on auto pilot to her house. And . . . he’d have to stop doing that.

“Your friend gave me directions.”

“Oh.”

He heard the disappointment in her voice and shuffled through the thoughts tumbling through her mind to find their source. If Greta had given him directions, they hadn’t been a couple. He felt her anxiety rise as she second-guessed her earlier theories.

Anthony allowed his fingers to press more firmly against her thigh. “Let’s go get your things.”

***

Charlee jumped as his fingers pressed harder into her flesh; her entire body was flushed. That couldn’t have been an accident.

As they’d driven away from the cottage, he’d told her his full name but insisted she call him Anthony. Doctor Burgess felt more appropriate under the circumstances.

She was still unsure what their history together was, but she had a hard time believing he’d broken her heart, at least directly. Maybe she’d had a crush and he’d never known about it. It would explain the X-rated thoughts that had been running on repeat in her brain since they’d gotten out of the forest.

She looked up to find him watching her with an amused grin on his face as if her brain were a Teleprompter.

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

She reluctantly moved, breaking the contact his hand had made with her upper thigh. She was embarrassed she’d remained as still as possible in the car, not wanting him to realize he was touching her and pull away. He had to have known, yet he hadn’t moved either. Why did she feel suddenly like she was in junior high? It’s probably for the best I can’t remember junior high.