Saved by Blood (The Vampires' Fae Book 1) Page 3

  Sol hummed low in his throat, and I heard him mutter a prayer to Fate.

  At last, the girl’s eyelids fluttered open. Her pupils were blown out, making her hazel eyes appear almost black. She looked up wildly. I wasn’t sure she even registered our faces, but she latched onto my wrist, an instinctual reaction.

  Her lips closed around my skin, and her throat moved as she drank greedily. Color began to return to her cheeks, the ashen palor fading from her bloodstained skin. She really was exquisite.

  “It’s working,” I said quietly, trying to hide the naked relief in my voice.

  I supported her neck as she drank her fill. It’d been over four hundred years since I was turned, but I still remembered how it felt. Immortality and power had flooded my system—a high like nothing else a human could experience.

  The pain would come later, as the body completed the change. But the moment of transformation was pure ecstasy.

  I also hadn’t fed a human in hundreds of years, so perhaps my memory was fuzzy. But this felt different. More intense, somehow. As she drew the blood from my body in deep pulls, something shifted between us. It was a connection formed of pure, shared pleasure.

  Slowly, the cuts the shade had gouged into her body began to close. She sat up, cupping my wrist in her hands as she continued to lap at me. I let out a low grunt and tightened my grip around the back of her neck, trying to keep myself grounded as desire flooded me.

  God, I hope she won’t hold it against me that I saved her life. That I gave her this curse.

  The girl was coming back to herself now. Her eyes cleared, the mesmerizing hazel returning. The sight was so beautiful it called a smile to my face. I let out a huff of relieved laughter, and she tilted her head, looking up at me in surprise. We were both high from the change, lost in each other.

  In that moment, I lost control.

  Without thinking, I leaned down to kiss her.

  If I can’t taste her blood, I’ll taste those pretty lips.

  Her mouth was warm and pliant, wet with my blood, and she let out a slight moan as I flicked my tongue out to lick away a drop. She kissed like she was discovering the world through our connection, like she’d been waiting for this kiss her whole life.

  I pulled back slowly, breathing deeply as I regained my senses.

  Then she moaned again, but not in pleasure.

  “What the fuck?” Jerrett leaned forward, tensing.

  The girl’s body jerked as the color drained from her face once more. She fell back, and I only barely managed to stop her head from hitting the ground. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and to my horror, her wounds reopened.

  “What’s happening?” Jerrett’s voice cut through the dark night. “She’s getting worse!”

  “The wounds are reopening. Why?” Sol asked.

  I didn’t respond, because I had no answer.

  Goddamnit. This had never happened before. It wasn’t how it was supposed to work. Never in four hundred years had I heard of a failed transformation. It just didn’t happen—unless the person was already dead.

  “What do we do?” Jerrett paced to her other side, dropping to his knees.

  “I don’t… I don’t know.”

  “Let me try,” Sol said grimly.

  He pushed me out of the way and bit his own wrist until it bled. He let the blood drip onto her full lips like candle wax. Her body stopped seizing, and she sat up, gripping his arm like she had mine. A look of intense pleasure swept over both their faces.

  Did I look so enraptured when she fed on me?

  More than likely.

  I clenched my jaw, unease prickling in my stomach. This was insane. I’d never come across a human who’d needed more than one vampire to turn her. Was it because of the injuries she’d received? The strange patterns carved in her skin? Or was it something about the girl herself?

  But it was working. Her wounds were healing again, the skin knitting slowly back together. Blood still seeped from them, but by the time Sol pulled away, the cuts had almost closed up. Not completely, like they should have, but she was no longer on the brink of death.

  As the girl’s breathing deepened and evened out, Sol and I both turned to Jerrett.

  He cracked a smile despite the worry in his eyes. “Best for last, huh?”

  “If it makes you feel better to think so. Yes. She needs more.” Sol sat back.

  Fortunately, Jerrett didn’t hesitate or debate like I had. We all had our faults, but no one would ever accuse my oldest brother of overthinking things. The sleeve of his dark shirt was already rolled up to his elbow, and he pulled the girl into his lap as Sol stood.

  Jerrett cradled the girl’s body to him as she drank, murmuring softly in her ear. Finally, the multitude of cuts arrayed across her skin healed—though still not as perfectly as they should have. Faint white scars remained, as if she’d received the wounds years ago.

  When Jerrett moved to pull his wrist from her mouth, she mewled in protest, her tongue darting out to catch the last few drops as she lifted her head to chase the source.

  “No more, sweetheart. Not tonight.” He smoothed her hair back, his intense gaze locked on her face.

  She blinked up at him slowly, her hazel irises glinting in the dim light. Red sparks flared within the flecks of brown and green as our vampire blood worked its way through her system.

  Then her eyelids slid shut, and she fell limply back into Jerrett’s arms. She was still covered in blood, but the color had returned to her cheeks. Her expression was peaceful.

  I stood and rested a hand on Sol’s shoulder.

  Jerrett looked up at us. “What the hell just happened?”

  My nostrils flared as I gritted my teeth. I had no answer for him. When we’d set out tonight to hunt a rogue shade, I couldn’t have predicted how far off course the evening would go. If I had, would I still have come?

  The girl would live, thanks to us.

  But at what cost?

  5

  Willow

  I dragged my bleary eyes open.

  Then my brow furrowed.

  Where am I?

  I wasn’t in my bed in my tiny studio apartment. The view from the window wasn’t the ugly, pigeon-filled alley I woke up to every morning. In fact, there was no view at all. There was no window—just a large door and several expensive-looking paintings hanging on walls painted a tasteful cream.

  Swallowing hard, I moved to sit up, but a tug on my arms stopped me. Soft leather straps were wrapped around my wrists and secured to the headboard of the large four-poster bed.

  “What the hell…?”

  My shocked whisper was rough and gravelly. My breath came faster as I twisted as far as my binds would allow, craning my neck to take in my surroundings. This room was bigger than my entire apartment, and if I weren’t scared out of my mind I probably would’ve admired the luxurious setting.

  Where on earth am I?

  My brain felt mushy, like cereal left to sit in milk for too long. I would’ve suspected a hangover, but I hardly ever drank at work—and besides, my body felt fine. No pounding headache accompanied my disorientation.

  I struggled to sort through the previous night’s events. Work had been busy, but not insane. An annoying creep had been hitting on a blonde girl, and I’d swooped in to rescue her. Then the guy had transferred his attention to me, following me around and staring down my shirt as if that might somehow charm me into going home with him. He’d been a pain in the ass, I could remember that well enough.

  Right. I stayed late at the bar to make sure he was gone before I headed home.

  Then…

  My memory skipped. There was a blank, a black hole.

  Pushing down my rising anxiety, I forced myself to work slowly through every minute I remembered.

  I decided to walk home to save on cab fare. It was quiet, though a little cold. A nice enough night for a walk. Then there was a cold breeze, a noise behind me, and—

  A rush of images suddenly flo
oded my brain, making my breath hitch.

  The figure.

  Shadowy and dark, yet somehow corporeal.

  My fists striking its solid form. The crack of bone as it broke my ankle. Cold concrete beneath my body.

  Nausea welled in my stomach as I recalled the pain and fear. Blood had gushed from my wounds as the dark shadow of a monster stooped over me, its claws tipped with red. I had felt the life slipping from my body.

  I remembered the overwhelming sense of defeat. Like I’d failed. Death had found me.

  Or had it?

  I felt plenty alive right now. The bite of the restraints digging into my skin reassured me I was still here.

  Then a new memory struck me, sharper than the others.

  A man’s face.

  The image flashed in my mind, and my body warmed. He’d been big and broad-shouldered. Handsome, with dark hair and bewitching, deep brown eyes. I could remember what his skin tasted like. Coppery. Salty.

  How the hell do I know that?

  We had been so close together. I remembered his face hovering over mine, the warmth of his breath wafting over my lips.

  Then more pain.

  Two other faces flashed through my mind.

  One was a man with penetrating blue eyes, an eyebrow and lip piercing, and black hair that was shaved tight to his head on one side and long on top. He looked as wild and untamed as a rock star, but his eyes were kind.

  Had he helped me? Or had he tried to harm me?

  My skin chilled. Monsters like that shadowy thing I’d seen weren’t real. Maybe the massive brown eyed man or the man with blue eyes had been the one who really attacked me, and my brain had dealt with the assault by recasting him as something supernatural.

  The third man had wavy blond hair and tanned skin. There had been something strange about his mesmerizing, light green eyes. What was it?

  And who were those men? Why did I remember them so vividly? Where had I seen them before?

  They weren’t the type of people who frequented Osiris. The bar’s clientele was mostly frat guys and businessmen trying to get lucky. Those three didn’t fit into either of those categories.

  My stomach dipped precipitously as a new thought rose to the surface of my fuzzy brain. Whether the shadow creature was real or a hallucination, those men’s faces were the last thing I could remember before waking up in a strange room, strapped to a bed.

  They were the reason I was here.

  Panic shot through me, and I jerked my arms, fighting against my restraints.

  I forced my body to stop struggling, forced myself to draw in long breaths through my nose. If I was going to get out of here alive, I needed to think rationally. Be strategic.

  Slowly, I inched up the bed toward the headboard, giving the restraints on my wrists a little slack. My hands were bound too far apart for me to reach one with the other, so I couldn’t do much to untie the straps. But maybe I could shimmy them loose.

  Making a fist with my right hand, I rotated it slowly, giving a sustained pull against the strap binding me.

  If I can just get a little more wiggle room, I can—

  The thought died as a flash of intense, white-hot pain shot through me. My body bowed off the bed, and I thrashed against my bondage. My arms were wrenched behind me with a pop, and new pain flared. I’d nearly dislocated them.

  An intense emptiness filled me, hunger I was sure would never be satisfied. I could consume the entire world, and the pain would never stop.

  Sharp stabs of agony ripped through me, like someone had stuck a hot knife into my stomach and was driving it up and down. I didn’t care about the men, didn’t care about the creature made of shadow. All I could think about was ending this torture.

  I need… something. I need it now.

  Just when I thought I would pass out from the pain, the stabbing pangs of hunger faded, leaving me shaky and sweaty. I curled into a ball the best I could with my arms bound, as if making my stomach smaller would keep the gnawing hunger from returning.

  I lay there for several long minutes, my breath returning to normal, my heart rate slowing.

  A key turned in the lock of the large oak door.

  My head whipped over in time to see the door handle rotating.

  Shit! I was out of time. I didn’t know what the men who’d taken me wanted from me, but it couldn’t be anything good. You don’t attack and kidnap a stranger and then strap them to a bed because you want to be friends.

  As the door began to open, I let my head loll to one side, pressing my eyelids shut. Maybe if my captor thought I was asleep, I could take him by surprise when he got close enough. It probably wouldn’t give me much of an upper hand, but it was the only hope I had right now.

  Fear and despair tugged at me. Whoever had made these restraints was no beginner. They knew what they were doing.

  They’d done this before.

  I listened as my captor stepped into the room. The ache in my stomach was building again, that strange longing for something I didn’t understand cutting through me so sharply I had to clench my jaw to keep from crying out.

  Light footsteps approached me—lighter than they should’ve been to belong to any of the men I remembered. They’d all been so big, muscular, and solid. I tried to let my breathing deepen, to keep my arms from straining at the bonds.

  The bed dipped, and a shock of awareness washed over me. I could feel the man’s gaze on me like a physical weight. It tracked down my body, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

  The mattress shifted again as he leaned toward me, and I moved.

  My eyelids flew open as I turned my head sharply to face the intruder. It was the dark-haired man whose skin I could still taste. His striking brown eyes widened in surprise.

  Moving on pure instinct, I lashed out. My arms were bound, but I still had my legs. I twisted and caught him off guard with a hard kick to his side. He grunted in pain, stumbling off the bed.

  Holy shit. Maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through my body, but my kick had made more of an impact on this giant man than I’d expected.

  Even so, it didn’t stop him for long.

  In the blink of an eye, he had me pinned to the bed under the weight of his muscular body. I struggled and writhed, trying to get a knee between his legs. But he was too damned heavy.

  I reared up to bash my head into his face, but he pulled away quickly, dodging my blow. His thick legs straddled me, his hands pinning my shoulders down as he leaned forward with a snarl.

  “Calm down, you wildcat!”

  My breath hitched as his dark brown eyes blazed down at me.

  That face. Those eyes.

  I had seen this man before.

  More than once.

  6

  Willow

  “I know you.”

  The whispered words escaped my lips unbidden, but their effect on the man was immediate. He drew back, looking almost guilty.

  Confusion made my mind whirl. “How do I know you?”

  I’d seen him before, somewhere other than in that one fuzzy memory. Where? When?

  I saw him in a park once, didn’t I? He was so strikingly handsome, I had to look again—but when I glanced back, he was gone.

  Was that memory real? Or a part of my hallucinations?

  “It’s not important right now. You need to calm down. I’ll explain everything soon.” His voice was a deep rumble, the sound vibrating through his body and into mine.

  This mountain of a man was big and strong, well over six feet tall and muscular. His face was broad and handsome, with a strong jawline. He had dark, shaggy hair that looked perfectly tousled, even though I was sure he never styled it, and he smelled like a mixture of leather and musk.

  Holy shit. He doesn’t look real. If he’d come up to me at Osiris, I would’ve given him my number in a heartbeat, something I’d never had the guts to do with any of the men who hit on me at work. Grace kept telling me it was time to start dating, but I was too scared to leap into
that terrifying cesspool.

  But the tall, dark man straddling me hadn’t given me his number. He hadn’t asked me on a date. He’d kidnapped me. It didn’t matter how stupid-gorgeous he was if he wanted to kill me or rape me.

  “I’ll calm down when you untie me, you psycho!” I bucked my hips, barely moving his huge body.

  If my fear was lending me extra strength, it wasn’t enough. The weight of him on top of me was too much to fight against, but I threw everything I had into it, grunting and gasping as I tried to hit him with a knee, an elbow—anything.

  With an annoyed sound, he leaned in closer, resting a thick forearm across my throat and effectively pinning my head to the mattress. I could still breathe, but panic flared inside me anyway.

  “Are you done yet?” he growled, a spark of anger lighting in his eyes.

  I nodded, the gesture tiny because of his weight on my throat. But the man either caught the small dip of my chin, or he recognized the look of defeat in my eyes. He sat back slowly, watching me warily, as if he expected me to resume my struggles any moment.

  “There.” His voice was softer now, the rumble like velvet over rocks. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

  I gave another small nod, letting my body go soft beneath him. As the resistance drained from my muscles, I became unnervingly aware of everywhere we were connected. The weight of his pelvis rested on mine, and his thighs squeezed the sides of my body.

  “I heard you scream.” He narrowed his eyes, assessing me. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

  My chin dipped for the third time. I didn’t bother asking how he knew about the nameless, aching emptiness inside me.

  Or maybe he’s just asking if you want a sandwich, dummy.

  My stomach rebelled at the thought. Along with my love of baking, I’d always had a deep love of eating—sweets especially, but I wasn’t picky when it came to food. I loved it all.