Found, a Vampire Romance (2 page)

And that reaction made him slow his steps, made him stop and close his eyes.
Not a monster
. When the woman was with him, when he could smell her cologne and feel the heat of her body against his, he was grounded. He was back in his own head.

She drove the monster away.

She needed him right now, but he needed her too, more perhaps.

She moaned, and her head tilted to one side.

Her skin was pale. She had, he realized, lost a lot of blood. He had smelled the blood, but caught up in his own hunger, he hadn’t processed what its scent meant to the female.

Humans needed blood, more than vampires. Without it, they would die.

She couldn’t die. He couldn’t let her.

He was close to the cave now— not the cave where he had stored his father’s victims. A different one that he had rejected for his father’s purposes as too small.

He hurried his steps.

The mouth of the cave was small, barely big enough for Dorian to enter stooped. Past the opening, however, the tight entrance widened into one large space.

The female moved, her arm falling slack at her side.

Dorian kneeled and slowly lowered her to the ground. She didn’t move again.

He pressed his ear to her chest. Her heart beat, but faintly. Too faintly for a human.

She was dying. And, even if he was confident that he was ready to leave the canyon, that the monster wouldn’t jump back into his mind as soon as he set foot on the road that bordered it, she wouldn’t survive the trip.

She was too far gone, too close to death.

He stared at her, anguish tearing at him.

She had offered him the first ray of hope in weeks.
No
. He shook his head. Months. Years even.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling hope. His life had never been about hope. It had been about desperation and need. The need to stand out in his father’s world, to survive.

But when he looked at this female, he felt none of that. He just wanted to keep her safe.

She needed him, and
he
needed
that
.

He ran his fingers over her brow then down her body. Her injuries were obvious. A piece of glass protruded from her back, there was a gash in her side, and her pants, where the wolf had held her, was torn. She’d lost blood from all three wounds.

There were most likely other injuries too, ones hidden inside her body.

Dorian was no doctor, but when it came to giving life, he was something better. He was a vampire.

He stared at the woman again, knowing what he was considering was insane. Knowing his brother would condemn him for even considering the act, but also knowing he had no other choice.

She
had no other choice.

Fangs extended, he slit his own wrist. Then, as the blood, thick and dark, began to flow from his body, he pressed the gash against the woman’s lips and willed her to drink.

At first she did nothing; her lips didn’t move.

But Dorian was patient— being the second, less-important son he’d learned to wait his turn.

He ran his finger over his wound and slipped the blood-coated digit between her lips.

Again nothing.

He repeated the exercise.

Slowly, her lips parted, and her tongue touched his skin.

A shiver shot through him, and his body tensed. He moved his wrist closer and pressed it against her mouth.

Her tongue skimmed over his wound, shy and unsure. He stroked her hair and waited for his vampire blood to begin its work.

Her tongue moved again, this time darting out of her mouth and sliding over his wound with determination and intent.

Her fingers tightened around his arm. She held on, drinking now like a babe starved for days.

He pulled her into his lap, held her, caressed her, and tried not to think what would happen when she was healed, when he had to explain
how
she had healed.

Chapter 3

Nancy lifted her head. It ached. She opened her eyes. It was dark. She could see shadows and outlines of shapes, but nothing familiar. 

She wasn’t in the sorority house. She shifted her weight. The ground beneath her was hard and unforgiving. Not her bed, not any bed.

It came back to her then. The trip into the canyon, on a dare. Some frat boys saying sorority girls didn’t have what it took to drive through the cursed canyon at night. She’d told them they were wrong, even made a bet with one. And she’d talked her best friends into coming with her.

This first trip was supposed to have been quick, just a drive through so they could assure the pledges the place was safe before planning the trip that would end in the younger girls’ initiation into the house.

But the drive had gone wrong, very wrong.

Something, some creature, had crashed into their car and up onto the hood. Nancy had swerved and lost control, lost consciousness, too, for a while. And when she’d come to, two of her friends had been dead, and she had been unable to move. Rachel had gone for help, but Nancy hadn’t seen her since.

Maybe she was dead too.

A sob escaped Nancy’s lips. She closed her eyes and wished she was still unconscious, that she could stay that way until the pain of knowing what she had done and what she had cost her friends was gone.

There was movement in the dark beside her. Her eyes flew open, and her mind flashed to her last moments awake.
The wolf
.

Every fiber of muscle in her body tensed. She couldn’t imagine a worse death than being torn to bits by the creature.

Suddenly she knew she wanted to live. Desperately.

She was lying on her stomach, her hand cupped against the ground. The physical pain she remembered from earlier, when she had first seen the wolf, seemed to have subsided. There was the ache in her head, but the rest of her felt only numb.

She could deal with numb. If she wanted to live, she would have to.

Determined and desperate, she straightened her arms, or tried to, but as she moved, her head swam, and her elbows buckled. She collapsed back onto the cold rock.

More movement. The shuffle of paws? She closed her eyes and willed herself invisible.

“Don’t move.” A hand landed on her back.

Breath exploded from her lungs. Too stunned to speak, relief washed over her.

The voice was masculine and rough. She remembered then.

“You scared off the wolf,” she murmured. Her heart still beat fast from her scare, but her voice sounded calm. She was glad of that. 

“Wolves.”

The reply seemed instinctive, not really a response to her statement.

Fingers probed her back. Preparing for pain, she stilled, but again nothing. She relaxed. She must not have been hurt as badly as she’d thought. Perhaps Rachel hadn’t been either. Perhaps—

No, she wouldn’t go there. Dead didn’t get better. And her other friends were dead.

She licked her lips and tried not to cry. Tears wouldn’t make anything better.

Action might, or at least action would keep her from having to think for a while. Remembering the object she’d felt protruding from her back earlier, she reached to touch the spot, but the man grabbed her hand, stopping her.

“I pulled it out. It’s healing.”

Healing? The word seemed optimistic considering how recently she had been hurt. Unless—

“How long have I been out?” She twisted then, trying to catch a glimpse of her companion’s face as she did. But he had moved too. She could only see his profile, and in the dark, it was nothing more than a vague impression.

Still, she knew she didn’t know him. His hair was long and shaggy. It brushed his shoulders, and his profile was strong and rugged.

Crystal City College catered to a more polished clientele. She couldn’t remember seeing a boy there whose hair so much as touched his collar, much less his shoulders.

She squinted, wishing she could see better, wondering if her savior’s face was clean-shaven or covered with stubble. She guessed the latter.

He placed his hand on her back, his touch gentle and out of character for his appearance. “Not long. A few hours.”

Hours?
“But the wound—” she began.

He pressed lightly on her back, telling her to relax with his touch.

“It isn’t healed, but it will be soon. Give it another few hours and more—” He pressed his lips together, cutting off his own words.

“More what?”

“Time.”

Time
. It wasn’t what he’d been going to say, but she let the switch go. He’d saved her, and he was taking care of her. Tossing questions at him seemed unfair. Besides, she was tired. She let her body relax more and lay still for a moment in silence.

But she could feel his gaze on her, and she couldn’t stay still. “Where am I?” she asked. “Is someone coming to help? I have a friend. She went for help. Did you see her?”

Once the questions started, she wasn’t sure she could stop them. Suddenly impatient, she tried again to push herself up. This time the man helped her. One hand under each of her arms, he lifted her to a sit.

She stared at him, surprised. At five nine, she was no small flower, but he had moved her as if she was lighter than the tiniest of cheerleaders.

“Better?” he asked. He leaned closer. She could see his face now. His eyes were wide and light-colored, blue or gray, she guessed. His lips were full, and his cheeks and chin were covered in stubble.

She raised her hand and stroked her fingers over his skin. The stiff hairs sprouting there tickled her fingers. Realizing what she was doing, how inappropriate it was, she jerked her hand back.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“Don’t be.” He placed her fingers back against his cheek. “Connection is good. Touch is good.” He exhaled, and a spell seemed to wrap around them. She bent her fingers so her nails skimmed over his face.

He turned his face and kissed her palm. She jerked her hand away again. This time he made no move to replace her fingers against his skin.

Instead, he leaned back onto his heels and studied her.

“My brother found your friend,” he said.

“Rachel?” Nancy lifted her gaze. She’d been staring at a button on his shirt, or where a button had been at one time. His clothing seemed dirty and disheveled, as if he’d been through some kind of trauma too. But of course he had. Saving her from the wolves couldn’t have been simple.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Thank Cameron.”

She frowned.

“My brother. He found your friend.”

“No, I meant...” She let the words trail off. It didn’t matter, and sitting upright seemed to be taking a toll. “Rachel. She’s okay?” Her stomach tightened as she waited for his answer. If she’d killed Rachel too, she didn’t know what she would do, if she could cope.

“Cameron found her. He took her to the road.”

The road. Not home. Not the answer she wanted to hear. She frowned again. A pain shot through her temple. She pressed her fingers against it.

He placed his hand over hers. His wrist was next to her face. She smelled blood. Her face turned, and she nuzzled his skin. He didn’t move, and she didn’t either. She couldn’t seem to make herself. She knew what she was doing was strange, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Her tongue slipped out of her mouth, and she lapped at his skin. She tasted blood, dried and only a trace, but still blood.

And she wanted more.

As the horrifying realization worked its way through her consciousness, he slipped the fingers of his other hand into her hair and ran his thumb over her cheek.

“You need more.”

He seemed saddened by the words, words she didn’t understand, but still she nodded.

More. She needed more.

o0o

Dorian ran his thumb over the woman’s cheek. Her skin was soft but pale. His blood had helped her to heal, but the job wasn’t done. She needed more, but the more he gave her, the more the risk grew that she would grow dependent on it, dependent on him— or some other vampire.

His gut twisted at the thought of another vampire sharing blood with the woman. A woman whose name he didn’t even know.

He shouldn’t care. His father certainly didn’t. His father had dozens of humans enslaved by the taste of his blood. When it wasn’t convenient for his father to be with them, he left them to their suffering or one of his vampire guards’ whims. The humans, so devoured by need, didn’t fight the vampires, no matter what their demands. All they wanted was the blood, and they’d give anything to get it.

It was better to let the woman die than wind up like that. It’s what Cameron would tell him.

And his brother was right. His brother was always right, but Dorian had never, would never, be his brother, and the not-so-right decision had always been his first choice.

Why change that now?

He stroked her cheek. The movement was almost automatic as he considered his next best move.

She’d been afraid when she’d awakened in the cave. A normal reaction after what she’d been through. But then she’d calmed. Now she was cautious and confused, but not afraid.

She trusted him.

He could use that trust. He smiled, stared into her eyes, and willed her to trust him more. She had tasted his blood once already. Getting her to do so again should be easy.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She hesitated then said, “Nancy.”

“Nancy,” he repeated. Names had power. Said properly, they could strengthen the hold a vampire had on his victim.

“Nancy,” he said again. “I’m Dorian.” He held his smile.
Trust
, he whispered in his mind.

She stared at him for a second. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, her back softened, and she leaned against the cave’s hard wall.

“Here.” He slipped his arm behind her and slid her body so her back was against his chest. “You need to stay warm, or you may go into shock.”

It was a ridiculous lie. He was a vampire. He had no warmth to offer, but she didn’t know that. And after a moment of resistance, of her body stiffening, she sighed and leaned fully against him.

She was nestled against him now, her buttocks between his thighs and pressing, ever so lightly, against his sex.