Ambrosia (Nectar Trilogy, Book 2) (27 page)

His phone was ringing from his pocket.

He hit a button, “Tristan. I have her. No, she’s fine. She has it. But there’s a problem. Liam Donavan has my dagger.”

Kyla wanted to barf.

“My office,” he said into the phone and then hit a few buttons on the computer, “No, you’re clear to move. The system is open for all basic doors. Get here.”

She heard a bleep over the loudspeaker.

He looked at her and shook his head.

“How did Liam get in? I thought …”

“I don’t know yet.” He hit some buttons on his computer and was studying the screen so Kyla rounded the desk to see what he was doing and saw a series of camera views around the property.  As he scanned through frame after frame she saw rooms in the cottages, hallways, corridors, and rooms in the guest suites.

Tristan had been absolutely right; there were cameras everywhere. She felt sick for a second, thinking about the sex they’d had since arriving. That thought took her to the staircase in the cottage and she didn’t let her brain stay there. She must’ve made a sound of disgust because Adrian glanced up for a second and gave her a warning look. She guessed it was something to the effect of a “not now” type of look. He knew she was connecting the dots.

“Security is important. Just because there are cameras doesn’t mean someone is always looking.”

She made a harrumph sound. The door was being banged on, making her freeze in fear and look up.

“That’s it!” he said and then rushed to open the door and then Tristan burst in. Tristan went right to her and enveloped her in his arms.

“He parachuted into the woods,” Adrian said to Tristan while keying something into his cell phone, “I spotted the parachute. I believe he found her first and then came here and got the dagger.  The ID used belonged to cleaning staff. Functional staff members. He followed one in, using his print, and I have zero movement reports for his print since then. I have his print and have now disabled it from any level two or higher security zones. We should put you both in the lab. That’s level 3, top security. Keep you there until he’s found. He’s taken the dagger and probably went to lay low until he could find another opportunity to use it.”

“He doesn’t know what it is,” Kyla said.

The both looked at her with quizzical expressions.

“Tristan, he got into the cottage. He almost got me but we struggled, I got that cold gust through me, shoved him, he crashed out the window, and by the time he got back I had the dagger and threatened him. He asked what it was because he said Sam came at him with one. I told him to let me show him so you could kill him or something like that and he took off.”

“He had to have been watching me to know it was in the desk. He’s got to have had surveillance in here or hacked into my feeds somehow,” Adrian said, “And if he has, that is really not a good thing.”

~~~

They were in that room off the lab, in the bed, curled up together.

“Don’t leave me alone in here. You do that, he finds me and this goes badly.
For sure
it goes badly!”

“Kyla, I can’t just leave this to them. I do not fuckin’ trust a single one of them. Did you see how freaked Adrian was? There’s something he hasn’t said. I don’t know where the fuck Claudio is. Sam’s missing, too.”

When they’d gotten into the lab Adrian had a bit of a meltdown because he said that something was missing. He was frantically searching through the plethora of bottles in his cabinets, searching through his computer, looking at security footage. They’d gone into the room with the bed in it and were watching him through the glass wall. He was in a state, alright!

Adrian burst back into the room they were in, “He’s hacked into my files,” Adrian told Tristan, “he’s got something and the something he has… it could be very bad.”

“What is it?”

Adrian closed his eyes and shook his head, “If he injects her with it, it’ll force her to go into a nectar cycle.”

“What?” Tristan’s hands went into his hair.

“I haven’t used it yet. I have it but I haven’t used it. It’s a hormone cocktail that will force menstruation. He’s been watching. He’s hacked my files. He has cameras in my lab and in my office. And one of Kyla’s blood vials is gone.”

Tristan had Adrian by the throat, “You fucking moron!”

Claude was there with Sam, in the lab. They could see them through the glass wall that separated the room they were in from that lab.

“Stay here,” Tristan told Kyla.

“No!” She screeched, “Do not fucking leave me alone. That’s how it’ll go bad…if we separate…”

“Not leaving, princess. Going into the lab to talk to them. Not leaving.” He kissed her forehead and he and Adrian stepped into the lab and Kyla watched as the four of them talked.

She was shaking like a leaf, sitting on that bed, holding the dagger. She started to say a prayer. This did
not
feel good.

God, please keep us safe. Don’t let me lose him. Please don’t let me lose him.

Sam, Claudio, and Adrian rushed out of the lab. Kyla couldn’t see them any longer. Tristan was back.

“We’ll stay here and wait. I wanna track him down myself but you’re right; no way I can leave you alone.” He caressed her cheek and snuggled up with her in the bed.

She put her arms around his middle and snuggled in, “Please don’t leave me. I have a horrible sinking feeling about this. Don’t let him hurt you, Tristan. Please don’t let him hurt you.” She tucked the dagger under the pillow and put both arms around him.

“I won’t. I’ll never leave you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Never. No matter what.”

She shuddered. The feeling of impending doom was real and tangible. It was as if she were in a movie theatre watching the heroine walking down a dark corridor, the ax murderer right behind her with the ax held up high.

“Kyla, c’mon…” he said, “This guy has nothing compared to me in terms of strength. I can protect you. Have faith in me.”

“Tristan, I know you’re stronger than him. I feel that. Honest, I do. I just can’t shake this awful feeling…”

It was worse than fear. It was all-consuming.

Suddenly, there was a loud click. A light above the door to the room they were in turned on and it was red.

“What?” she breathed.

Tristan jumped from the bed and pushed on the door. It was locked.  He glanced over his shoulder at Kyla.

Claudio was in the lab, alone. He was at a computer.

“Claude, what the fuck?” Tristan shouted. Claudio ignored him and kept typing away at the computer. And then she heard a swish sound and the room started to fill with mist.

She saw Claudio reach down and then put a mask with goggles on.

“Tristan!” she shouted, “What’s going on?”

Tristan made the lock click open but the room was filling with steam and the steam was getting thicker. She couldn’t see Tristan. She started to choke on the steam. She tried to move in the direction she thought the door was in but she wasn’t sure if she was going the right way. It wasn’t hot, not smoky, but sweet tasting. Like burnt marshmallows but it kept making her cough and choke. She heard glass smashing but couldn’t see anything with the fog around herself.

Suddenly she was aware of hands on her shoulders and then teeth extending against her throat and just as everything went black she knew that it wasn’t Tristan who had her.

She woke up in strong arms. She felt woozy.  Her throat was bleeding.

That room they were in off the lab was no longer separated from the lab because the glass wall was mostly gone. The hiss of whatever had sent the steam into the room was still hissing but there wasn’t steam.

She looked up and the face hovering over her zoomed into focus. She wasn’t in Tristan’s arms. She was in Liam’s arms.

He smiled his stupid toothpaste commercial smile and said, “Now, the real fun begins. Let’s see how much I can get before he notices,” and his head descended to the side of her throat that wasn’t already ripped.

Across the room she saw Tristan rip Claudio’s head off. Literally. Claudio’s hair, attached to his detached head was in Tristan’s hand and Tristan threw the head. The head had goggles on its eyes and fangs out and those fangs were blood-coated. The head bounced off the wall and landed on the floor and then Tristan spun around and saw that she was in Liam’s clutches.

She pushed but she was weak. No cold rose up in her. Nothing rose up in her. All she could feel was her body was failing. That, and Tristan’s pure unadulterated rage.

The gash that was already on her throat must’ve really weakened her. Blood trickled out steadily.

Tristan was there, hands on Liam while Liam’s teeth were still on the other side of Kyla’s throat.

“Let her fucking go!”

She knew he couldn’t yank Liam off while those fangs were attached to her or he’d rip her throat apart.

She was panic-stricken, feeling weaker by the second.

Liam’s wrist came up and she saw the green glint of the jewels on the dagger and then the dagger came down in the air and sank into Tristan’s shoulder.

Liam pulled it out and released Kyla’s throat to watch Tristan fall to the floor.

Oh God. No.

Liam licked his lips, “Fuck, you’re delicious!” he looked at the dagger in his hand. “That’s handy. I was wondering what this’d do.”

Adrian rushed into the room and froze in his tracks when he took in the scene. Liam let go of Kyla and darted to him, jabbed the dagger in him, and then Adrian went down, too.

Kyla sobbed as she saw Tristan on the floor, out like a light, but not looking all that injured. And Liam obviously didn’t know that the dagger had to stay in for Tristan to stay down. The dagger was bigger than hers. It was Adrian’s! Was the other one still under the pillow? It must be!

Liam’s teeth sank into her throat again and he moaned, gulped a few times, and Kyla’s eyes darted to the bed. If only they were in the bed she could reach under the pillow. Was it still there? She felt so weak. Her throat was bleeding out on both sides. One side onto her chest, the other side into Liam’s mouth.

He lifted her up off the floor and put her on the bed and she thought
“YES!”

Her hands were laying limply above her head.

“I’d better close that wound,” he muttered and put his mouth to it, “That’s a bad one. Fucking D’Alonzo. I watched footage of him stealing that vial of your blood from the lab. When he drank it? I knew I had to hurry or he’d drain you before I got here.”

Please God, let that dagger still be under this pillow.

Her hand reached under and she felt it. She gripped it.

Her body felt so weak that lifting her arm with the light dagger felt like lifting a fifty-pound barbell but she got it up and then summoned every ounce of fight she had left, felt a tiny cold burst through that arm and she drove it down, into his back. She left it there.

Liam went limp on top of her.

She couldn’t move. She had no strength. The throat wound she had was still gushing.

She looked down at Tristan, who was still laying on the floor, and prayed that he’d somehow wake up before she was empty.

Her eyelids started to flutter closed and everything started to go fuzzy.

~~~

“Kyla!” Tristan said, his voice sounding panicked.

Tristan?

Was she dreaming? Was she dead? Was she in heaven?

“Oh fuck, Kyla. Oh fuck, no, baby…” Her eyes opened just enough to see him and feel as he removed the weight of Liam from on top of her.

“She’s not gonna make it unless you turn her. She’s lost too much blood.” That was Adrian. He was behind Tristan.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, baby. No no no, don’t close your eyes. Stay with me, princess.”

He went fuzzy and then it was dark.

Tristan

He felt sick. Sick to his stomach, sick at heart, sick in whatever small amount of soul there was left.

She was gone.

He’d turned her. He’d opened up his wrist and fed her his blood and she still had a pulse; she was still breathing. Barely.

She’d wake up soon. But she’d wake up and be someone else. She’d have green eyes and peaches & cream skin, and luscious lips, long curly eyelashes and a smokin’ hot toned body, but she wouldn’t be his princess. Not even close.

She’d be powerful. She’d undoubtedly be more powerful than Taryn, but because of that she would also be a cunning, calculating, cunt.

He’d be doomed to live with someone who looked like the love of his life, the reason he felt anything resembling human emotion. But that’s where the similarities would end.

He wouldn’t desert her. He couldn’t.  He’d promised.

He’d never leave her, no matter what.

And he wouldn’t.

So he’d suffer.

He’d suffer like Andre but worse. Worse because as sweet as Becky used to be, and as much as Andre had cared for that girl, no one could love
any
girl the way that Tristan had loved Kyla.

It would hurt, it would kill, watching a vamp with Kyla’s body, Kyla’s eyes, Kyla’s voice. A nasty, hateful, spiteful creature, and he’d spend whatever life he had left, which could be an eternity, as her servant.

She’d lie, steal, cheat, murder, manipulate, and she’d laugh in his face if he dared show her a shred of emotion. It would be an eternity of constant reminders of what he’d lost and he could already feel his heart turning to stone.

He took a swig straight from the bottle of Jack Daniels. He’d need it. She’d be conscious soon and that was when his nightmare would come true. She’d wake ravenous and then it would be hell on earth watching her desecrate everything and everyone around her for her own primal urges.

She’s awake.

Relief moved through him, despite that train of thought because she’d almost been dead when he’d bled life into her, and now she was stirring. He couldn’t bring himself to let her die.  He deserved the punishment of watching her as a she-vamp for all his many many sins.

And now her eyes were open. Those gorgeous green cat’s eyes that said so much… that sparkled with her jokes, that lit up with mischief, that went liquid with arousal, that went like lasers with anger, shiny with excitement, or that shone with love once she’d admitted that their connection was real. He cradled her and rubbed his thumb across the apple of her cheek, “Baby?”

He ached as soon as he said that. Immense loss rushed through his heart, his veins.

He had a thermal pitcher and glass with body temperature blood ready. He had a feeder in the next room, on standby, in case the pitcher wasn’t what she wanted or in case it wasn’t enough.

She blinked at him.

“You’re okay,” he said, looking into her eyes, searching, “You feel okay? Your throat should heal shortly.”

“Hmm?” She looked dazed.

“Hungry? You should feed now.”

She’d feel better after her first feed.

He’d been parched when he’d woken up after being turned. He’d been absolutely ravenous. He’d drained two feeders completely as soon as he’d woken.

She nodded a little.

He lifted her a little and tipped the glass to her lips. She took a mouthful and winced and then started to cough, spitting it all out.

“Kyla? Drink, baby. You need this.” He held it to her lips again. She swallowed and then she started to get the dry heaves so he lifted her and got her into the bathroom, over the sink. She threw up the blood.

He helped her by wiping her face with a cool cloth and then he carried her back to the bed. She seemed really weak. She should be the exact opposite right now. She should be clawing her way to satiety.

Her teeth started to chatter. He got under the blankets and held her close.

Why wasn’t she feeding?

On the verge of death, after being close to the brink from Claudio’s bloodlust and then half-dead from Liam Donavan, he’d fed her his blood. She was now awake. But she wasn’t feeding.

He’d waved them away, Sam and Adrian both. They’d both offered to stay and help him once she was awake, Adrian had said that with her bloodline, the signs of strength she’d shown before turning, and Tristan’s blood being what had sired her that she’d be a real handful.

Maybe he should’ve kept them there to help with this but he’d dreaded this moment and didn’t want an audience to see it as it happened... that moment when he’d know, when he’d see and feel that she was truly gone…

He’d chosen to endure that pain alone, with at least some dignity, but right now he was absolutely stumped.

He remembered vividly how he’d been when he’d turned. He remembered, too, how it was with Becky when she’d been turned, how it was with Taryn, when he’d turned her. He was also around numerous times when other vamps woke after being turned and this was
not
how it went.
Ever.
Whether royal or true vamp: they all woke the same way.

He tipped her chin back and she blinked at him.

“Kyla?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you feel okay?”

“Yes,” she answered softly. Blinking at him. Just looking at him, looking … vacant.

“Open your mouth, princess.”

She opened her mouth immediately.

Blinking at him.

He hesitantly touched above her incisor, put a bit of pressure on the gum. Any vamp, even a new vamp’s fangs…they would’ve dropped with that pressure. They dropped as soon as they woke as vamp for the first time. Every single time.

Nothing happened.

She didn’t have fangs.

He let her go and she dropped to the pillow. She just looked off, vacantly.

He leaned over, dropped his own fangs, saw that her throat was still in need of time to heal, so moved down to her inner thigh and bit.  Warm blood started to flow into his mouth. It tasted like his own blood. It didn’t taste of sunlight, of warmth, of Kyla.  He retracted his fangs and looked up at her face.

“Princess?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s my name?”

“Tristan.”

“Yeah, baby.  Tell me what you’re feeling.”

It hit him then like a tonne of bricks that he couldn’t feel a fucking thing from her. Not a thing.

“Hmm?” she blinked some more.

She’d been turned. She should be a vampire. A cunning, selfish, hateful, hungry she-monster with fangs. But she wasn’t.

She was like an empty vessel, a deer in the headlights, filled only with his blood.

She was mesmerized.