Vampire's Companion (15 page)

“Bad trip,” Israel said, going to the sound system. A tap and quiet descended.

Kadence’s head jerked up.

She shrieked and scrambled backward like a fast crab.

The headboard blocked further retreat.

“We’re here to help you,” Israel said.

Kadence shrieked again. Grabbed at a pillow.

No, not the pillow.

Kadence’s hand emerged holding a gun.

“Gun!” Cia shouted, its blast shocking her eardrums even as she pulled her weapon. Aimed. Jerked her arm upward a millisecond before firing into Terach’s back.

Her bullet slammed into the ceiling.

Nausea rushed in. She’d never even seen him move.

She turned and her heart was ripped out of her chest. “Israel!”

Arterial spray ran down the wall in streams of red.

His neck gaped where Kadence’s bullet had struck him.

Cia rushed to him. Covered the wound with her hands, applying pressure, but the blood barely pulsed against her palm.

Too late.

Too late.

The words thundered through her head.

Then Terach was there and hope stripped away the last of denial.

Be a vampire. Please be a vampire.

“Save him, Terach. Please. I know you can.”

“He’s lost too much blood for me to bring him back as human. Seconds remain, Cia. He’ll be a vampire if I can save his life at all. Do we choose for him without knowing his wishes?”

The image of Israel at the beach crashed into her. Him standing beside her car, arms outstretched and head tilted back in an embrace of sea and sun.

Her throat clogged. Would he want this?

She couldn’t lose him.

“Do it,” she said, her tears dripping onto Israel.

Terach held her gaze. Compulsion. Her own desire to confront the truth, she didn’t know which.

Canine teeth elongated to become fangs.

Her heart rabbited in her chest at the incontrovertible evidence that he was a vampire. But she didn’t fear him.

He tore open his wrist and placed the wound against Israel’s parted lips.

Words followed in a language she didn’t understand. Dark, husky intonations that sounded like prayer and promise, irrevocable binding.

Beneath her palm, the tiny pulse indicating life stopped.

She sobbed, a tremor going through her at the finality of it.

Hope plummeted but was caught in its free fall when Israel grabbed Terach’s wrist, holding it to his mouth and feeding.

She jerked back at finding no recognition in his eyes, only wild, savage hunger. Her shields fell to reveal a shimmering, rainbow weave of reds and blues and black.

She watched, mesmerized. Reached out and combed her fingers through long, wavy hair, touched the now healed wound on his neck, stroked his brow, a shiver of fear going through her when the touch drew his attention to her. “He’s not all here, is he?”

“Not yet.”

“But he will be?”

“If I’m strong enough. If I don’t fail him.”

Her eyes lifted to Terach’s. “You will be. You are.”

She reached up, tugging the medallion free of her shirt and clenching it in her hand, adding her will to Terach’s.

“With you on my side, I feel invincible.” He glanced down at Israel, murmured, “Enough.” The recognizable word followed by others that felt old and powerful.

Israel stopped feeding. His eyes closed and he stilled, though red and blue and black surrounded him, clung to him.

She placed her hand on his chest and found no heartbeat. Trembled and suppressed the one that would have followed.

Hang tough. Just hang tough.

“What colors do you see?” Terach asked, startling her enough so they disappeared.

“Too many different shades to count. How did you know?”

“I caught glimpses of your gift from your childhood memories that night you were run over. You’ve got magic in your veins. That’s why you see the auras so strongly.”

“I get it from my mother’s family. But I’ve never met them. I don’t know anything about them.”

It hit her then that her mother’s shunning of the occult meant more than just ignorance when it came to her own gift. It had cost her a family.

Was that a good thing?

Her thoughts went to the man who’d chased her when she was ten.

Or was it a bad thing?

Either way, the door to this world outside of what most people saw had been opened wide and she wouldn’t close it again if she could. “I’d like to find out more about my mother’s family, whether I make contact or not.”

“Whether
we
make contact or not. You’re no longer alone.” His smile turned wicked. “I can even ask my sire to have his Angelini mate hunt for them. She’d sympathize with your plight. She was taken as a child. Until just recently, she was unaware of her origins. Her parents and brothers will soon descend on Las Vegas.”

Skye. Who was found abandoned in Los Angeles. Who grew up in a series of foster homes. Who, according to the notes in the captain’s thick file, was suspected of killing a pedophile for the first time while still a ward of the State.

A tremor took Cia. Then another. And another. Each once more violent than the last.

She hugged herself. “I nearly shot you. We nearly lost him.”

Then Terach was there, arms enfolding her, pulling her onto his lap. “I’d have survived.”

His lips brushed her forehead. “I’m sure I could have thought of a way for you to make it up to me.”

His mouth touched hers. “I didn’t want you to have to kill her.”

His kiss beat back all the
what might have beens
for what truly was.

Love. Security. A place where she belonged. Home.

Everything she’d always wanted.

She could feel the bond between them as if it were an artery connecting two hearts, two minds.

Agree to be my companion.

Accept the medallion.

Words spoken. Words in her mind.

Terach?

His pleasure rippled into her. His mouth curved into a smile against hers.

I’m here. I will always be here.

She leaned away from him. “And Israel? What happens next?”

“We return to Tessa’s and wait. Survival isn’t a certainty, Cia. In changing him, I might well have signed his death warrant.”

“Why?”

He showed her the visit to Brann’s house and the gift he’d received with Syndelle’s blood. He shared Brann’s parting words, and she remembered that voice from the night she’d nearly died, the power in it, though that hadn’t stopped Skye’s demand, even though she had hated Skye then.

Healed. Not enslaved, Brann.

“Will Israel get the gift from you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Will you at sunrise?”

“Perhaps. If he wakes. If he does he’ll be hungry for both blood and sex. I need to replenish myself before then. I can take from And—”

“No. You’ve got a companion. I’ll be there for Israel too.”

Terach’s arms tightened. “Only if he’s cognizant of who you are. Only if I’m there to make sure he doesn’t kill you. The newborn are extremely dangerous. Their control is tenuous. In the old days it wasn’t uncommon for them to wake and return to their human homes, slaughtering the families they loved.”

His lips sought hers. Everything around them faded for long moments.

When he lifted his mouth from hers, he asked, “What do you want done with Andy and Kadence?”

Cia glanced at the bed. Kadence’s chest rose and fell in a calm, steady rhythm.

He could compel them to change, to turn themselves in. But given the notebook and Chloe and Kadence’s game, who was the real victim here?

What would an Angelini do? What would Skye, of the thick, thick file and extensive success record when it came to finding runaways, do if presented with this situation?

Instead of familiar anger, an answer came. “Send them to Donna with a desire to get clean and to confess how they met and what’s happened since.”

It might end with Andy being charged, or it might not. Regardless, she’d still hand the notebook over to Detective Lawson.

“I want to dig my bullet out of the ceiling before we leave.” She’d find the spent casing too.

Terach rubbed his cheek against hers. “It would be best if Israel’s blood wasn’t left so visibly on the scene. I’ll send Kadence and Andy on their way when we’re ready to depart and it’s safe for one of them to drive.”

Which meant it was nearing sunrise when Cia parked in Tessa’s driveway.

Terach allowed himself to feel a measure of relief.

He carried Israel into the house, then into the bathroom and placed him in the tub. He removed Israel’s bloody shirt while Cia made quick work of stripping off shoes.

Their hands met at the front of Israel’s jeans. Despite the worried fluttering of her pulse that ratcheted up his hunger, when she laughed he couldn’t resist leaning closer, delivering a kiss before together they rid Israel of the remainder of his clothing.

Sunrise was nearly upon them. It quickened his heartbeat with anticipation, though given Israel’s helpless, uncertain state, he said, “Go close the curtains while I bathe him.”

Cia made quick work of the task. She rejoined him, kneeling next to the tub. It gave him pleasure to see her touching Israel, even an insensate one.

Together they eradicated the lingering vestiges of Israel’s death then dried him.

Terach carried him from the bathroom and placed him on the bed. Cia combed through Israel’s dark locks, her hand coming to rest above Israel’s silent heart. “Can you sense anything?”

“His existence.” Terach snagged her hand. “Come. I don’t want to leave him unattended for long.”

They returned to the bathroom, stripping out of their clothing and getting into the shower. He soaped his hands, using them to caress and claim every inch of her skin.

The intimacy of it nearly undid him. The way she yielded to his ministrations, not hiding but open, willing.

“You need to feed.”

Her husky voice was a command to lift and impale her with his cock. To swallow her moans of pleasure as he held her pressed to the shower wall, motionless for long moments, until the clamp and release of her channel made that stillness impossible.

He thrust, pleasure redoubling because of the bond.

He would never get enough of this, of her.

Her orgasm nearly triggered the frenzied pistoning of his hips. He panted, fighting against release. He buried his face against her neck and knew he was lost when she tilted her head back in the ultimate act of trust.

His fangs elongated. He bit, the fierce clamp of her sheath on his cock and her cry of pleasure stripping away what remained of his control.

He took her in feverish thrusts. Poured his love and need and his desire into her as he drew her blood into himself, not merely sustenance for the body, but for the heart and soul.

He ensured her pleasure, only coming after she’d done so twice more. His mouth lingered on her neck after the retraction of his fangs, paying homage with tender sucks and soft kisses.

Now you
, he said, though his cock protested when he lifted her off it.

He elongated the nail of his index finger so it became a sharp talon, an ability beyond him before Syndelle’s gift. He placed the sharp point above his left nipple, saw the memory of that night in Cia’s mind and in her eyes, when giving her his blood had no longer been only about saving her life.

He’d held her mind, compelled her to obey and then to forget. But this time… He moaned when her lips touched his chest willingly. Ecstasy shivered through him with the lap of her tongue over his nipple, the suction of her mouth when she took what he offered.

He cupped her head. Stroked her back, her buttocks, rocked his hardened cock against her, rubbing her clit, sharpening her pleasure, the bond between them fed and strengthened by the sharing of blood.

For a fourth time since entering the shower she came.

The lift of her mouth as the sweet sound of her satisfaction escaped was enough to stop the flow of blood across his nipple. Her tongue darted out, licked in an entreaty for more.

His hips jerked.

Then jerked again when she slid downward.

He moaned, regret and longing and frustration in the sound.

He grasped her arms, stopping the descent of her mouth to his cock. “Later. When the three of us are together. There’s a spark of awareness in Israel.”

Israel returned to consciousness in an endless tunnel. It was like staring into the depths of an abyss, and having that same abyss look back at him.

He turned in the blackness, trying to determine its boundaries. The sense of space telescoped into a pinprick of cold reality in the distance.

His body lay naked on Tessa’s bed, still and alone, as if placed there in preparation for a funeral.

And then it was gone, replaced by his life scrolling before him, held in the harsh spotlight of judgment. And this was judgment day for him.

He knew it with unshakable certainty. Understood only at witnessing his death and Terach’s gift of afterlife, that if he wasn’t found acceptable, useful to the sentient magic that held him in this place, then his heart would not beat again.

Did he want it to? After having experienced the sun again after years of being denied it, did he want decades, centuries of existence trapped in the night?

A flicker returned the image of his body lying on the bed.

Cia and Terach joined him on it.

She placed a hand above his stilled heart and Terach placed his on top of hers. They spoke, and though he couldn’t hear the words, he felt their concern, their desire, their love, and he had his answer.

Yes.
He was willing to give up the sun for a life shared with them.

A jolt went through him. In the distance his physical body bowed as though defibrillator paddles had been touched to his chest.

A second jolt and he raced toward it. A third and he slammed home.

The creation bond snapped into place like a leash on a rabid dog. Terach’s mind seized his, and he accepted, knowing Terach took control so he wouldn’t attack Cia.