BodySnatchers (2 page)

Chapter Two

“Why didn’t you leave her where you found her?” Torsten Lang
pushed his long blond hair back from his forehead and circled the woman on the
dining table. “Or are you collecting strays again?”

Safe in his penthouse apartment, twenty-six stories into the
Houston skyline, Yuri Kovak needn’t fear discovery or interference from Cesar’s
disbanded gang of punks. The only danger now was the woman he’d been foolish
enough to bring into the secrecy of his lair. But he couldn’t leave her on the
street, not alone and as weak as she’d been.

“They would have come back for her.” Yuri stared down at the
woman’s deep red hair and skin a pearly shade of alabaster dusted with
ginger-colored freckles. Her breathing was shallow, her breasts barely rising
and falling to the rhythm.

“Did she pass out on her own or did you have some
influence?” Torsten asked.

“I put her in a trance,” Yuri responded. Although, she’d
already been in a mild state of shock from blood loss and running into him.

Torsten leaned close to sniff at her neck. “Ummm. She smells
tempting.”

His friend’s gesture sent a rush of blood to Yuri’s face,
and his fists tightened. “Back off.”

Straightening, Torsten leveled piercing blue eyes on Yuri.
“Unless you plan on keeping her, you need to get her out of here before she
wakes.”

“You’re back so soon?” Melisande’s lilting voice preceded
her into the room. When she stepped into the dining area, she ground to a halt,
her gaze fixed on the woman lying across the table. “What is she doing here?”

“Bleeding at the moment,” Torsten said, his gaze never
leaving Yuri. “Shall we serve her up for dinner? She’s in the right place.”

“Don’t be crude, Tor.” A faint dip in her delicate brow
signaled Melisande’s displeasure with Torsten’s remark. She strode to the table
and perused the woman as if examining a new bedspread for the queen-size bed in
her room. “She’s pretty in a manly way.”

Yuri’s frown deepened. The woman’s curves had burned an
indelible impression on his hands. “There’s not a manly bone in this woman’s
body.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized Melisande was fishing
for the answer to his involvement with a strange woman.

The sparkle in Melisande’s eye could not be mistaken. Her
lips stretched into a grin. “What is it about this woman you felt it necessary
to risk all of us by bringing her here?” She lifted a strand of fiery red hair,
the coppery highlights reflecting the light from the overhead chandelier.

Yuri had asked himself that question all the way back to the
penthouse suite, carrying the woman in his arms, refusing to allow Torsten to
share the burden for even a step. “Some of Andrei’s Dragóns would have taken
her. I couldn’t leave her to their machinations.”

“So you brought her here? Couldn’t you have taken her to a
hospital or dropped her at one of those twenty-four-hour trauma centers?”
Melisande shook her head. “This is too messy, especially for you, Yuri.”

“Melisande is right. We’ll have trouble when she wakes,”
Torsten added.

“I couldn’t leave her.” Why was he defending his actions? He
was in charge here. “The deed is done.”

“Which brings us to the next question.” Melisande stared
down at the redhead. “What shall we do with her now?”

“Looks to me like we have at least three choices.” Torsten
held a finger in the air. “The first is to dump her back on the street.”

“Not an option.” Yuri stepped toward the woman as if
preparing to defend her. Her trance was so deep, when he lifted her wrist, he
could barely feel the pulse.

“Which leads to your next option, you can turn her into one
of us.” Torsten tapped a hand to his chest.

The idea appealed to Yuri, but he felt the woman would want
to make that choice herself. In all his four hundred and twenty-eight years as
a vampire, he refused to force the choice to turn on an unconscious person.
“No, I will not turn her.”

“You can heal her and set her free when she is ready. As you
did for me.” Melisande’s voice carried through the air.

Melisande had been with him for the past five years, not as
his lover but as his friend and his backup source of the blood he needed to
survive. He’d healed an injury inflicted by her abusive father. She was one of
the strays Torsten alluded to.

She placed a hand on his arm and looked up at him with her
dark brown eyes. “If you choose to keep her here until she wakes, be careful.
She could blow your cover.”

“If you don’t have the stomach for it, I’ll sacrifice my
services and heal her.” Torsten clapped his hands together. “She’s pretty if
you like red hair and pale skin. Me? I prefer a sun-drenched wench of darker
skin tones. But I never turn down a pretty woman, especially one with hair the
color of polished copper.”

Yuri’s teeth clenched. “I’ll take care of her and heal her.
After that, I’ll be the one to decide what to do with her.”

“You don’t know how she’ll react when she finds out you
aren’t human. She might be frightened. Or worse still, she might not like
vampires.” Melisande’s gaze roved over the woman’s face, as if recalling her
own initial fear.

Yuri snorted. He already had an idea about her feelings
about vampires. Did he think he could change her mind? “I know the risks for
us,” he said, his voice coarse, impatient. Time was wasting and her wounds
needed tending.

But would she want him to touch her? What was it she’d said
when she’d run into him? The only good vampire was a dead vampire? A smile
tilted his lips upward. Was she afraid of vampires? He couldn’t imagine this
woman being afraid of anything. Hadn’t she proven her strength and
determination when she’d stood up against the Dragóns? Even after she’d been wounded.

The woman deserved to walk away whole, even if it was a
vampire helping her to do so. He didn’t have to turn her, but she might think
that was his intent when she came to.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Melisande asked.

Yuri sighed. “Yes.”

He gathered the red-haired woman into his arms, her blood
smearing across his sleeve. Had he not fed an hour earlier, the hunger would
have been washing over him in waves. The scent of blood drew him like no other,
but he’d had over four hundred years to learn to control his bloodlust. He
hoped the lessons learned would carry him through the other urges not so easily
controlled.

He carried her to his room and turned to close the door.

“Need my assistance?” Torsten asked, his gaze focused on
Yuri not the woman.

“I do not wish to be disturbed.”

“What if she tries to kill you?” Melisande asked.

He smiled gently at his two friends. “I’ll call if I need
you.” With a slight kick, the door swung shut, blocking out Torsten and
Melisande’s worried faces.

When he laid her on the bed, she was like a rag doll,
completely limp and unresponsive. Her wounds were not mortal, but she’d lost
enough blood to weaken her. The trance did the rest. But as soon as he started
the healing process, she’d awaken.

Maybe she’d be frightened. More likely she’d be shocked and
angry, thinking he was taking advantage of her. Perhaps that was the reason
he’d brought her here in the first place.

This woman and her foolish bravado intrigued him as no other
in many years.

Yuri glanced at the clock. Dawn was only an hour away. If he
planned to do this, he’d need to do it quickly.

Without another thought to the consequences, he pulled a
knife from the sheath in his boot and slipped it beneath the hem of her shirt,
the blade slicing through threads until he peeled back the tank top, exposing
the wound and a shell-pink lace bra.

For a woman all in black, the pink bra was a pleasant
surprise. Apparently, she had a softer, more feminine side. In order to heal
her, he had to strip her clothing away to expose entry and exit wounds.

He flipped the front clasp and her breasts spilled out of
the lace and into his hands. Okay, so he probably hadn’t needed to remove the
bra, but he couldn’t resist, and the straps might prove to be in the way across
her back.

His cock flicked against the confines of his trousers, and
Yuri ground his teeth together to stave off his rising desire. Although the
surge of lust was inevitable, he had no business coming on to this
semiconscious woman.

When he rolled her to her side, she moaned, a low, weak
sound in the large room. Careful not to cause her further pain, he eased the
remnants of her shirt over her shoulder and down her arms. The back of her
shoulder wasn’t nearly as messy with blood as torn flesh from the bullet’s
damaging exit in front. At least he needn’t worry about removing the slug.

Once he had her top half stripped, he removed his own boots
and his bloodstained T-shirt. Then he climbed on the bed beside her and went to
work.

Healing an open wound was a delicate line for him to walk
with the taste of blood on his tongue and the silkiness of female flesh beneath
his fingers. He’d die a thousand deaths before he finished the job. Resisting
her would be a monumental task.

Melisande had been the only other person he’d healed. Doctors
were available for this kind of thing. For centuries, he’d lived a quiet
existence, blending into the shadows of the places he lived. If he healed every
wound, he’d leave himself vulnerable and others would come to realize the truth
of his existence. If they learned of his true nature, they’d hunt him down and
kill him. Fear of vampires led many to destroy them without considering they
were still people beneath the undead exterior.

Yuri had contemplated that death on occasion, but he wasn’t
ready to give up on life such as it was. He had Torsten to keep him company and
the occasional woman to warm his bed. Melisande provided sustenance when
available donors were limited. What more could he want?

The woman beside him lay as still as death, her peaches-and-cream
skin cool to his touch. He skimmed his fingers over a breast and up to the base
of her throat where her pulse beat the strongest. With a deep breath, he leaned
into her, his lips pulling back as his teeth extended.

How easy it would be to sink into her jugular and suck the
life-giving blood from her body. To give back in return and make her immortal
to stand beside him for eternity.

He skimmed the long incisors across her neck, pressing
lightly without breaking the skin.

A surge of desire rolled over him like waves crashing
against the shore. Struggling against instinct, he proceeded down the base of
her throat and across her collarbone to the injured shoulder. He sniffed at the
blood still oozing from the wound, like a thick, rich wine to be sipped.

He tasted the nectar, savoring the flavor of her, his body
responding to her naked breasts beneath his chin, within easy reach of his
mouth. Each pearly mound jutting upward, begging him to take them into his
mouth.

She stirred beneath him, her back arching upward, a breast
pressing against his chin.

Turning his face just a little, he captured the nipple
between his teeth, letting go immediately. He realized his mistake at once. If
he didn’t get back to the task at hand, he’d be lost in his own uncontrollable
lust.

He skimmed his tongue over the ragged edges of the exit
wound until the shattered flesh grew together, the wound fading with each
caress. Once the wound in front had disappeared, he turned her onto her
stomach, putting those luscious breasts beneath her and out of reach of his
roving lips and baser instincts. Then, with long, sure strokes, he laved the
wound on her back, the scar shrinking until it disappeared.

She stirred in his grasp, groaning and pushing against the
bed.

The taste of her blood an aphrodisiac to his senses, Yuri
closed his eyes as the red-haired goddess rolled to her back.

He inhaled and let out a long breath, schooling himself to a
calm he didn’t feel. Yet he fought a losing battle against his body. He had to
complete the work and get her out of his bed before he did something they would
both regret. He opened his eyes and stared only at fading traces of the wound,
refusing to note the peachy tips of her breasts now pebbled into tight beads.

With one final stroke, the mark completely disappeared and
he leaned back to inspect his work. The injury wouldn’t leave a scar to mar the
perfection of her skin.

If he were a gentleman, he’d get off the bed and walk away.
He even made a move to do just that.

She shifted beneath him, her hands rising up his torso to
clasp around his neck, pulling him closer until his chest rested against her
full, ripe breasts.

Yuri froze, his arms braced on either side of her shoulders,
his mouth hovering over hers.

Her breath blew softly against his lips, the tangy scent of
mint filling his senses.

Move away
, he willed his body. But the body wasn’t
going anywhere. Nestled against the soft curves, he couldn’t tear himself away.

Her leg curved around the back of his calf, and she pressed
her crotch to his thigh. “Love me,” she whispered, her eyes closed, her body
caught in a lusty dream. She probably didn’t know who she was or what she was
doing, only that she needed to be loved.

Yuri wondered who she was dreaming of. Did she have a
boyfriend or a husband lurking in her thoughts and somewhere in Houston? With a
quick glance down at her hand, he heaved a sigh. No ring. Good. Then who was
she thinking of in her lust-filled trance?

He knew the intensity of lust, having experienced it when he
was turned so long ago by the venomous vampire he thought he cared for. Had he
known the consequences of making love to her and letting his passion take over,
he might have chosen differently. But Katarina hadn’t given him the choice.
She’d fooled him into drinking her blood, turning him into a vampire just like
her. When she’d taken what she wanted, she left without a trace. No goodbyes,
no false declarations of love.