Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10) (25 page)

He fired off a quick telepathic warning to Marc, then dropped out of the present, and into the expanded consciousness where powerful vampires could go. Using all of his considerable power, he probed past the hidden vampire’s shields and tried to identify him. The lurker was powerful enough to resist the intrusion, but not powerful enough to stop it. Christian had just slipped into the other vampire’s awareness, which told him all he needed to know, when he was jolted back to the alley by the sound of Natalie’s angry scream.

He nearly jumped to his feet to go to her, but Marc held him down, pulling open the SUV’s driver-side door instead. Christian slid across the seats to the other side of the vehicle, where Natalie was fighting off her attacker. The remaining human assailant had used Christian’s distraction with their master to slip past their defenses, probably crawling on his belly along the wall to get to her. But even as Christian was rushing to save her, he saw that he’d underestimated her ability to save herself. So had her attacker, who was handicapped by an obvious desire not to hurt her, and to take her alive. This was a kidnapping, not a murder—at least, not for Natalie. But she wasn’t going easily. She was a whirlwind of defense, her feet and hands flying as she beat back her very human attacker, until he was forced to drop his useless gun in a desperate bid to fight her off without shooting her.

It was a turnabout that Christian would have appreciated under other circumstances, but not with Alon’s life on the line, and not when their enemy could change his mind at any moment, and decide he didn’t need Natalie alive after all.

“Natalie, down!” Christian yelled, and she dropped like a rock, stunning her attacker into immobility for no more than a second or two. But that was all Christian needed. With a thought, he sent a focused blast of power burrowing into the human’s brain. The man’s mouth opened in a scream he never got to voice, before he collapsed to the ground like a bag of bones.

Christian popped the door open above where Natalie was still working on Alon’s motionless body, using her shirt in a fruitless attempt to stop the bleeding. “Stay down,” he ordered her, then gathered a second, focused blast of power. This one was for Alon, to keep his heart beating until he could get back to him.

He slid back to Marc’s side again. Only one gunman remained, a vampire whose resistance suffered from his desire to keep living in the face of Marc’s superior skills. That made two dead enemies, and one badly injured but still alive, lying on the ground next to the white SUV. And the leader of them all, who was still hiding in the back seat.

“Marcel Weiss,” Christian muttered, telling Marc the name of the master vampire lurking in the shadows while his people died.

Marc nodded, and sent a withering volley of fire at the lone defender’s position.

Marcel wasn’t making an appearance, but Christian knew they had to wrap this up. It had been no more than three minutes since he’d first heard the screech of the white SUV’s tires, but there were screams coming from the dojo, and he could sense more than one human huddling near the back door. He reminded himself that many of the people inside were trained professionals, either police or military, and while they were too smart to walk into the middle of a gunfight, he had no doubt that more than one call to 911 had already been made. In fact, he could hear distant sirens that might well be the human police responding to their calls.

He thought about Alon, lying in a pool of his own blood, and about Natalie, and how close she’d come to being kidnapped. Fuck that. Natalie was his, and Alon was, too. Forgetting reason, dismissing concerns for his own safety, he slammed into the remaining vampire gunman’s brain—bulletproof was no guard against his kind of assault—and turned it to mush, then snapped a shield of power around himself and stepped out into the open.

“Marcel Weiss,” he called, augmenting his voice so that it dug right into his enemy’s ear. “If you would be Lord of the South, come out and face me.”

The back door of the white SUV opened silently, and Marcel Weiss—the Midwestern vampire who’d decided he couldn’t live under Aden’s rule—stepped out of the vehicle and into the open. He was carrying an HK MP5 submachine gun hanging down at his side.

“Let me have the woman, and we’ll call it a draw,” Weiss called.

Christian laughed. “There will be no draw tonight, Weiss.
You
challenged
me
, remember?”

Weiss lifted one shoulder. “All I really wanted was the girl,” he said casually, but in a flash of movement only a vampire could follow, he raised the gun and aimed at Christian, his finger tightening on the trigger.

As fast as Weiss was, however, Christian was faster. Weiss screamed as the gun exploded in his hand. He belatedly attempted to gather his shields, but Christian wouldn’t let him. He didn’t know what Weiss had been thinking to stage a challenge in such a public place—and with guns of all things—but the sirens were getting closer, definitely heading their way, and it was time to end this.

He advanced upon Weiss, lobbing grenade-like bits of power at the other vampire, disrupting his every attempt to structure some shields. Weiss’s right hand was shattered, bone gleaming whitely beneath the gushing blood. His inability to stop the bleeding spoke to how weak he was, or at least how rattled by Christian’s unceasing attacks.

“Stop,” Weiss ground out, holding out his one good hand, palm forward, as if to build a wall to hide behind. Except, there was no power to back it up. “I yield,” he rasped, staggering.

“There is no
yield
in this
contest, Weiss,” Christian informed him, still maintaining his own shields lest Weiss be pretending more weakness than was real. “You should have checked the rules before you started.”

“It wasn’t supposed to come to this. Anthony wanted the girl, that’s all.”

Christian laughed in disbelief. “And you thought I’d just let that happen?”

Weiss shook his head in confusion, his concentration clearly fraying. “Fine. You win. I’ll be gone by—”

Christian gathered himself for a final strike. “You still don’t get it, Weiss. I don’t win until you’re dead.” He shaped his power into a burning spear and sent it flying through the air. Weiss screamed, and tried to bat it away, but the weapon wasn’t a physical thing to be knocked from the air. And Weiss no longer had the power, or the control, to deflect it any other way.

The weapon stabbed through his nonexistent shields and pierced his heart, where it flamed hotter than the hottest forge, turning that vital organ into dust. He died as silently as his human minion, his mouth open in an empty scream for a fraction of a second before his body joined his heart in turning to dust.

There was no sound for an instant, and then Natalie’s sobs broke through Christian’s awareness. “Alon,” he whispered, and raced around the SUV to where Natalie still knelt over her friend’s motionless form, her blood-soaked shirt still pressed to his chest, struggling to stanch too many wounds. It was pointless. She might stop one hole from bleeding, but there were too many others. The only thing keeping Alon alive right now was Christian, and even he couldn’t stave off death forever.

“Let me have him,
chére
,” he said gently, trying to pull her away.

She fought him, her hands and arms covered with so much blood that Christian worried he was wrong, and she’d been shot after all. “I have to help him,” she cried over and over, while Christian ran his hands roughly over every inch of her, ignoring her attempts to push him away.

“Natalie, stop,” he snarled finally. “I can’t help him if you won’t let me!” He shook her slightly, trying to get her attention, until at last her vision seemed to clear, and she raised her eyes to his.

“Is he dead?” Her voice was shaking, terror lurking on the edges.

“No,” Christian said, the word hard and determined. “And he won’t be, either.” He turned to his lieutenant. “Marc, get our gear, but leave the Suburban. We’ll take Natalie’s car. Natalie?”

She was still shaking, but her voice was strong. “Yes?”

“Get in the car with Marc. Alon and I will be in the back.”

Marc jumped to obey him, understanding, without being told, that they needed to be gone before the police arrived. They’d want to take everyone in for endless questioning, and that never went well for vampires. And then there was Alon. If they stayed here, an ambulance would be called and he’d die before they reached the hospital. If he was to survive the night, it would not be as a human. And Christian didn’t want any witnesses to what some would see as a miraculous resurrection.

Natalie, too, seemed to recognize the necessity of a clean getaway. She leaned into her Prius and speedily flattened the back seats, then opened the rear hatch, so that Christian could climb inside. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but comfort wasn’t among his priorities right now. Marc helped him get Alon into the car, holding the bleeding human while Christian climbed into the tiny space, then easing him into Christian’s arms.

Closing the hatch, Marc quickly settled behind the wheel, next to Natalie, then drove away at top speed. Bystanders would assume they were rushing someone to a hospital. And in a way, they were. By the time the police discovered Alon was missing, he’d either be dead, or he’d be a vampire and beyond human authority.

NATALIE WATCHED numbly as Christian carried Alon into the house and disappeared down to the basement. Marc started to follow, but paused at the head of the stairs, his dark eyes full of compassion. “You should go ahead and clean up, then try to sleep,” he said kindly. “You won’t see either of them again tonight.”

“Is there
anything
I can do?” she asked, desperately needing to be useful.

“Not tonight, sweetheart. It’s all up to Christian now. But you know . . . he’s damn powerful. If anyone can save your friend, it’s him.”

She nodded, believing him, not only because he said it with such conviction, but because she knew Christian. Vampire or not, he was an honorable man. He’d do everything he could to save Alon. “Okay,” she said faintly. Marc turned and was gone.

Natalie stared at the empty space where he’d been and frowned unhappily. She had to accept that there was nothing for her to do. Not with Alon, at least. She had the files she’d copied from Anthony’s server, and she was way too wired from the night’s excitement to sleep. But it wasn’t the kind of wired that would lend itself to analytical thinking.

She made her way to the bedroom that she thought of as hers, wondering again how long it would be before Christian trusted her enough to admit her to the inner sanctum in the basement. What would it be like to sleep next to a vampire all day long? And what if she wasn’t tired? Would she be trapped down there anyway?

Thoughts chased each other around in her head until she turned on the light in the bathroom and got a look at herself for the first time since the attack. She closed her eyes, and fought the urge to gag. She was
covered
in blood, and none of it was hers. That fact nearly drove her to her knees. She began tearing at her clothes, wanting them
off.
There wasn’t enough cleaning product in the city of Houston to get all of that blood out. And even if she could, she’d never be able to wear any of them again.

Stripping down to skin, she left the clothes in a pile, and climbed into the shower. The events of this evening kept playing back in her head, and it wasn’t a flattering picture. She’d been scared out of her mind, and there was no denying it. Sure, she’d managed to fight off her attacker, but she’d been useless when it came to Alon. There’d just been so much
blood
! She’d never seen anything like it before.

Maybe that’s why Christian hadn’t even bothered to tell her “good night.” Or why he hadn’t spoken to her since they’d piled into her car. But what did he expect? She’d never even been close to anything like that before. The noise alone had been terrifying—roaring engines and screeching tires, the guns and the screams! It wasn’t anything like the movies. It was just unrelenting noise. A barrage of sound that had hurt her ears, and scraped every nerve raw until she could barely think. And then there’d been Alon, lying on the ground, surrounded by a growing pool of blood . . . and her brain had simply gone blank.

She sank to the floor of the shower, knees hugged to her chest, wishing for Christian’s powerful arms, for the strength of his big body wrapped around her, keeping her warm, keeping her safe. She tightened her jaw and drew a deep breath. “Suck it up, Nat,” she said. Christian had no time to hold her fucking hand. He was too busy saving Alon’s life.

She climbed to her feet, and finished washing away the blood, then shampooed and rinsed her hair twice before she was satisfied it was clean. She dried herself off and pulled on her sweats to sleep in. Her usual little nightgown made her feel too vulnerable today. She slid under the covers and lay there, listening to every creak and crack in the big house. She wondered if they had any alcohol in the kitchen. A glass of wine might help relax her enough to sleep. Otherwise she didn’t see how . . .

Sleep took her between one breath and the next.

Chapter Ten

ALON WAS LYING next to him when Christian woke the next night. As a new vampire, he wouldn’t wake for a while yet, but that first awakening would be hard. This was true for every new vampire, but it would be especially traumatic for Alon, given the violence of his near death, and the abrupt nature of his transition. He would need blood, and not just any blood either. Only Christian’s blood would suffice tonight. First, because it cemented the bond between vampire and Sire. But in this case, there was a more important reason; Alon would need the healing strength that only a powerful vampire like Christian could give him.

Christian had some time before that happened, though. Younger vampires rose from their enforced sleep much later than their elders. Strength was a factor in that, too, but there was no way of knowing how powerful Alon would be, this early in his new life. As a vampire lord—or at least as a vampire powerful enough to
be
a lord—Christian woke as soon as the fireball of the sun dropped below the horizon, despite the light still burning across the sky. That gave him at least two hours before Alon would wake enough to need him.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he sat up and searched the house with his vampire-enhanced senses. Marc was just beginning to wake; another fifteen minutes and he’d be fully alert. Upstairs, Natalie slept, but not well. Her mind was restless, and he suspected if he went to her, he’d find her emotions in turmoil, as well. It didn’t exactly surprise him. Last night had been troubling by anyone’s standards. What
did
surprise him was that she was still here at all. She hadn’t lived the kind of life that exposed her to this level of violence, and he’d half expected her to be on a plane back to the bayou, where she’d never again have to deal with vampires, and most especially not with
him.

Of course, there was Alon to consider. Maybe she’d only hung around to make sure he was okay.

Christian took a quick shower and pulled on a T-shirt and jeans, going commando, and leaving his feet bare. There was no need to dress more formally, he’d be back here soon enough. He checked to be sure Alon was still resting peacefully, then opened his bedroom door. Marc emerged into the hallway a moment later, still wrapped in a towel from his own shower.

“Keep an eye on him,” he told Marc, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to check on Natalie.” He started for the closed vault door. It wouldn’t open until he entered the security code.

“You think she heard what Weiss said about Anthony?” Marc asked “About him wanting her alive?”

Christian frowned. “If she didn’t, she’ll figure it out. It’ll be better if I tell her up front. She’ll be pissed otherwise.”

“Fucking Anthony. What happens now?”

“Now I stop dicking around and take the damn territory. Fuck the challenge. I need to find Anthony and kill him.”

“What about Stefano Barranza? You think he’s dropped out?”

Christian shook his head. “I think he’s down in Mexico causing mischief that’s going to bite us in the ass when we’re not looking. It would be easy to forget about him, but that might be just what he’s hoping for.”

“I’ll check around, see if there’s any word on his whereabouts.”

“And I’m going to talk to Natalie.”

“Better you than me.”

“
Only
me,” Christian said, feeling his possessive instincts flaring bright and hard.

Marc grinned. “I’ll keep an ear out for Alon.”

“I won’t be long.”

Christian entered the twelve-digit security code. The heavy door popped open an inch, and he shoved it the rest of the way. The computer console where Marc worked was silent, no alarms, no flashing message notifications. Nothing had happened during the day that their programming considered worth telling him about. But then, most everyone he’d expect to hear from after last night had been asleep all day, just like him.

He took the stairs two at a time, emerging into the quiet of the upstairs hallway. Natalie’s door was closed, but he could hear the sheets rustling as she tossed and turned, trying to sleep. He knocked, but didn’t wait before opening it. He felt her heartbeat kick up in alarm, and she rolled to the far side of the bed, dragging the covers with her, her eyes wide and staring.

“Natalie.”

“Christian,” she breathed. She dropped face-first into the sheets for a moment, then lifted her head with a relieved smile. “I didn’t think to check the time. The sun’s down?” she asked, then scolded herself. “Well, obviously the sun is down. Duh.”

“Get dressed,
chére
. We need to talk.”

“Alon?” she asked, and her face lost all of its usual color.

“Alon is fine,” he assured her.

“Then what—”

“Get dressed. I’ll make coffee.” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He closed the door and headed for the kitchen, where he found peace in the routine of using his machine, and was soon enjoying his first espresso. He had no doubt there would be more cups of the dark brew, because this was promising to be that kind of a night. Natalie showed up just a few minutes later. Her face was clean of makeup, her long hair pulled into a neat ponytail, and she wore a pair of loose sweat pants, with a cardigan sweater pulled over a belly-baring T-shirt.

He tried not to stare, as he imagined what was under the sweater. It was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and even that glimpse of flat belly was making him want her. His cock felt heavy, and his fangs ached with the desire for her blood. This wasn’t hunger. He was powerful enough to go days without feeding. This was something else. This was the need to claim his woman. He didn’t want blood; he wanted
Natalie’s
blood. And then he wanted to fuck her brains out.

Whatever happened next was up to her, however. She was the vulnerable one. If she decided she wanted to go home, he’d do his best to get her there safely, and make sure she stayed that way with no interference from him.

He leaned against the counter, sipping his espresso, and watching over the rim of his cup as she walked into the kitchen. She shuffled right up to him and put her hands on either side of his waist, her eyes big and shadowed with doubt, as if uncertain of her reception. Going up on her toes, she pressed her mouth to his and demanded a kiss.

Christian’s lips curved with satisfaction. Setting his cup on the counter, he wrapped his arms around her back, yanked her against him, and surrendered to the need that had been tightening his chest from the moment he’d opened her bedroom door. Her lips opened willingly beneath his, her tongue warm and delicate as he captured it and sucked hard, before stroking his own tongue over every inch of her luscious mouth.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, because if he didn’t say something, he was going to fuck her right there in the kitchen.

Natalie’s eyes were blurry with desire, which did nothing to ease his straining erection. She smiled sweetly in response to his question, and said, “No, I didn’t. I was worried about Alon, and then you—”

“Alon is no longer your concern.” Christian knew he was overreacting, but he couldn’t stop the hot stab of possessiveness that turned his words into an angry snarl.

She blinked in surprise, then scowled right back at him. “Look,” she snapped. “I know you’re all big macho vampire and everything, but Alon is still my
best friend. If he needs anything, I have the right to help him.”

“Really? And what would that be, Natalie? This
anything
that only you can give him?”

She narrowed her eyes in irritation, lips pursed, thinking hard. “Blood,” she said suddenly, nearly spitting out the single word. But almost as soon as she said it, she slid her gaze away from his nervously. “I mean, if he needs blood, I could—”

Christian shifted his grip to her arms. “You don’t go near him right now,” he growled. “Do you know what happens when a vampire wakes for the first time? There is no thought, no reason, there is only
hunger
. He would rip out your throat and never blink an eye.”

“Alon would never—”

“He’s not your fucking Alon any longer. He’s
mine
.”

“I don’t under—“

“You know what else you don’t understand?
You’re
mine, Natalie. Your
blood
is mine. No one feeds from you but me, and I’ll kill anyone who tries.”

She seemed to stop breathing for a moment. He watched the meaning of what he’d said fill her eyes, saw her understand for the first time what was really happening when he drank from her. That fire in her veins when he bit her, the electric jolt that went right to her clit . . . it wasn’t just sex. It was nutrition, and she was his food. Knowing that he was vampire, and confronting what it really meant, were two different things.

He saw the shock of realization in her eyes, and he was suddenly cold. He set her away from his body, then opened his hands and let go of her arms. She wasn’t the first woman who’d rejected what he was, but she was the first one who’d mattered.

He felt his own eyes shutter, concealing whatever emotion she might read there. “I have to check on Alon,” he said quietly, and moved toward the door, but Natalie grabbed him, her grip surprisingly strong on his forearm.

“Stop that,” she demanded.

He gave her a cool look. “Stop what?”

“Stop pushing me away. You keep looking for a reason for us not to get closer. I don’t trust
you
, you don’t trust
me
, it’s too dangerous, and now this bullshit. So I didn’t understand about Alon. Okay, I’ll learn. But that has nothing to do with you and me.”

“No? What were you thinking just now? I saw it in your face. You were horrified at the very idea of what I am, and what
you
are to
me
.”

“Oh, fuck that! So I reacted, so what? I’m not as good as you at controlling every little goddamned tic on my face. I’m not a machine like you are, I
want
to feel—”

He grabbed her again, holding her roughly against him. “You want to
feel
?” he growled against her cheek, his tongue following his words as he licked her skin. “Is that you want from me,
chére
?” He reached between their bodies and slid his hand into her sweatpants, finding nothing but bare skin. Stroking over her smooth belly, his fingers dipped between her thighs and found her naked and wet, her soft folds welcoming as he pushed two fingers deep into her pussy. “Do you feel that?” he whispered.

She shuddered, her entire body trembling against his as the sweet fragrance of her arousal filled his senses. He began pumping his fingers in and out, his thumb playing circles around the swollen nub of her clit, teasing, never touching. He didn’t want her to climax yet. He wanted her on the edge, begging to come. She wanted to
feel
? He’d make her fucking feel until she was screaming for release.

“Christian.” Her voice was a needy whisper as she moved against his hand, spreading her legs wider. “I want—” She broke off with a moan, a soft sound that ended in a sobbing breath.

“What do you want?” he murmured, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, licking the salty flavor of the tears leaking from beneath her eyelids.

“I want,” she started to say again, hesitating briefly before her eyes flashed open to stare into his. “I want you to bite me,” she said with a hiccupping breath. Her tears were rolling freely down her cheeks. “I want
you
.”

Christian stilled, his fingers buried deep inside her, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as he stared at her.

“Christian,” she whispered. “Please.”

His fangs slid from his gums, aching for the thick, warm taste of her blood coating his throat. “Natalie,” he said. Just her name, but so much more. It was a question, and more than one. Was she sure that she wanted this? That she wanted
him
? Did she know what she was asking?

“Yes,” she said, seeming to understand. “I want you, just as you are.”

Christian bent his head, his mouth going to the taut curve of her neck, sucking at the thick roll of her vein until it was plump and ready, bursting with the rich bounty of her blood. His fangs grazed over her tender skin—once, twice. And then he bit her, groaning with pleasure as the warm honey of her blood filled his mouth and slid down his throat.

Natalie buried her face against his shoulder as he bit her, sinking her teeth into the thick muscle, muffling cries of pain that quickly changed to desire, as his bite sent waves of raw need cutting through her veins. Her belly clenched under his hand, and she gasped when he stroked his thumb directly over her clit, softly at first, then pressing down until she bucked against him, her pussy squeezing his fingers as she bit back her moans, clinging to him in order to remain upright in the throes of her orgasm.

Christian’s fangs were anchored to her throat, his arm banded around her back, the fingers of one hand digging into her hip. He waited until she was nearly limp in his arms, until there was nothing but the occasional jolt as her body recovered from her orgasm. Then, holding her still, he withdrew his fangs, relishing the last few drops of her sweet blood as he licked the wounds shut. With a final teasing stroke over her sensitive clit, he pulled his fingers from her pussy. They were coated in the cream of her orgasm.

“Natalie,” he murmured. He waited until her eyes opened in a hazy focus, and then he brought his fingers up to his mouth and deliberately licked them clean, savoring every bit of her juices.

She blushed furiously, and buried her face against his chest. “You’re horrible,” she said.

“That’s not the impression I got,” he replied smugly. “Perhaps I need to try again.” He slid his hand teasingly over her belly again, but she stopped him, pressing her body tightly against his and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I don’t think I’d survive it,” she muttered, then noticed the bloody mark of her teeth where his neck met his shoulder, just visible above his T-shirt. She touched it carefully. “I’m sorry,” she said, but he shook his head and covered her fingers with his, rubbing the injured spot.

“Don’t be sorry. It marks me as yours, just as my bite marks you. Vampires are a possessive lot,
chére
. You should know that before we take this any further. I’m a vampire lord, whether I have a territory yet or not, and you’re mine. If that’s not what you want, then—”