Passion Unleashed (39 page)

Wraith went taut, couldn’t prevent the low-pitched growl in his chest. No vampire would take Serena to bed. Ever. “I will do that.”

“You? You’ve shunned vampire society and made a mockery of it. Murdered your own kind without mercy.”

“I was wrong.”

“You lie.”

Of course he did. Serena’s life was on the line, and he’d never had a problem with lying. He was usually more convincing, however.

He stepped forward. “See these eyes? They should be brown. But they’re blue because vampires gouged out the ones I was born with. Vampires. Before they did it, they hung me from rafters and peeled off my skin. Burned the soles of my feet with blowtorches. Gutted me so my brothers had to shove everything back in and tack my intestines in place so they wouldn’t slide down to my nail-less toes.” He stepped out of the circle he was supposed to be standing inside. “So tell me, you bunch of dickless fucks, why I should have embraced my vampire half. Tell me!”

Several of them looked away.

“That’s what I thought.”

Komir stood. “Your brothers informed us of your past. Your greatest fear is torture, is it not?”

“It’s my second greatest fear,” Wraith said, his voice strong and sure. “My first is to lose Serena.”

“I almost believe you.”

“You’d better.”

“Perhaps you should prove it.” Komir walked from around the half-moon table and stopped beside a blood-stained platform. “There has been much pain on both sides—yours and ours. But there will be more. If you wish to save your female, you will face your fear to do it.”

Oh, fuck.

“Are you willing?”

Wraith glanced at the platform, and flashbacks of being strung up in the warehouse blazed through his mind.

He fought to stay upright as he faced Komir. The charm couldn’t protect him from this if he agreed to it. “Yes.”

“Then bring her to me.”

Relief flooded Wraith, but dread followed on its heels when he glanced at the altar. No way was Serena coming here, to be laid out like a sacrifice on the stone slab. He knew how the ritual worked. The human would be stripped and laid out before the Council. The members would inspect the human, touch them in whatever manner they wished until the sire, also naked, mounted them. Sex wasn’t required to make the change, but it went hand-in-hand, and often while sharing blood, the sire and victim fucked as the Council observed. Or participated.

“You’ll go to her,” Wraith said.

Komir steepled his fingers in front of him. “You don’t truly want this, do you?”

“Serena is too sick to move.” To be safe, he added through gritted teeth, “If it should please you.”

A draft of cold air circulated around the room, bringing with it the Key’s displeasure. He flashed from where he was standing to directly behind Wraith, pressed his chest to Wraith’s back as he leaned in and put his mouth to Wraith’s ear.

“None of this pleases me,” he murmured. “But that you would take a vampire as a mate after all you’ve suffered… perhaps it’s time that the Council gives you a fresh start. But Serena will be mine to indoctrinate into vampire life.”

Wraith wanted to wail with grief, but if this was the only way to keep her from dying, he’d have to deal with it. Somehow.

But the second she was released from Komir’s care, Wraith was bonding with her. She was his and he was going to make sure no male of any species touched her ever again.

“Yes,” he rasped. He cleared his throat and said louder, so everyone in the fucking room could hear. “Yes.”

Komir bared his teeth. “Then let’s go kill your woman.”

Wraith rushed into Serena’s room with Komir on his heels. Shade was sitting at Serena’s bedside, head bowed, fingers wrapped so tightly around her wrist that her hand had turned white. Shade’s dermoire was glowing fiercely, and Wraith knew he was burning a buttload of energy to keep her alive. Shade didn’t even look up at him. Didn’t say a word.

This was bad. Very, very bad.

Eidolon came in behind Wraith. He was in scrubs, his stethoscope looped around his neck, looking every bit the doctor he was—including his somber expression.

“I’m sorry, Wraith,” he said softly, “but the moment Shade lets go—”

“Then don’t let go.” Wraith turned to Komir. “It’ll still work, right?”

“Perhaps. If she is able to swallow blood.” Komir shook his head. “There’s always a risk—fully ten percent of turnings don’t take. And with her being this far gone…”

“Ah… what’s going on?” Eidolon eyed Komir. “Is this what I think it is?”

“If you’re thinking your brother wants me to turn this human into a vampire, then yes, it’s what you think it is.”

“Hell’s bells,” Shade muttered, still not looking up.

“I won’t argue about this,” Wraith said. E held up his hands and took a step back.

Komir moved to Serena’s side, and Wraith’s heart rate jacked up. Nerves and jealousy were going to tear him apart. Though the elder vamp must have felt the waves of heat coming off Wraith, he ignored them. He walked around the head of the bed and braced Serena’s face in his hands. Gently, he tilted her head to the side. His fangs extended, huge suckers that were, in a moment, going to be buried deep in Serena’s neck.

“It would be better if I were lying with her—”

“No!” Wraith shouted, and E grabbed him before he could do something stupid, like lay out the vampire. The writing on the walls began to pulse as the threat of violence grew.

“Idle down, bro,” E said, and Wraith backed toward the door, a terrible, possessive ache centering in his chest. Maybe if he didn’t watch…

Komir released Serena, and oh, fuck, Wraith had just ruined everything. The vampire brushed past him. “Come with me.”

Wraith had no choice but to follow, and once they were outside the room, Komir turned to him. “Strike me.”

The Haven spell prevented violence, but, like Serena’s charm, if the person wanted the violence, that was different. “Why?”

“Let your aggression out now, demon. The ritual cannot be interrupted.”

Wraith clenched his fists. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Then may I strike you?”

“Fine. Then let’s get on with—” Komir’s fist slammed into Wraith’s mouth with the force of a wrecking ball, knocking him sideways and splashing blood onto the wall. Another blow came at him, but Wraith spun out of reach and smashed his fist into Komir’s jaw.

The vampire crashed into a cart and slid ungracefully to the floor. He looked down at his bloodied knuckles and winced. “You have a hard right hook and a hard face.” He shook his hand and shoved it into his mouth. His entire body tensed, and he jerked his hand from his lips. He stared at it. Then he stared at Wraith. “You taste of… angel.”

“Ah, that. I sort of drank from one today—”

Komir came to his feet and touched his slicked-back silver hair, as though it might have gotten messed up during the scuffle. “Then you don’t need me.”

Hope soared through Wraith, followed immediately by confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Our race… it was created by fallen angels. Their blood flows through our veins. It is the fallen angel blood that activates the turn.”

“So if Serena drinks my blood before Reaver’s blood filters out…”

“Yes. Go.”

“I don’t know how. The details.” The admission shamed him. He’d spent too many years mired in hate to learn anything about vampires besides how to hunt and kill them.

“It’s instinct, Wraith,” Komir said. “Feed beyond the point of no return, but not until the heart stops completely. Then give her your blood. As much as she’ll take. The more, the better.”

“And after that?”

“You come to me. You have a promise to keep.”

So even though he was going to be the one turning Serena, they were still going to torture him. Bastards.

“Thank you.”

Komir bowed his head. “What you did at Temple Mount has earned you the Council’s gratitude.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” he muttered, but he didn’t hang around. He darted into Serena’s room and dropped to his knees beside her bed. Wasting no time, he sank his teeth into her thin wrist as gently as possible.

Serena’s blood hit his tongue, the rich flavor making him both moan and flinch. The tang of death tainted the sweet spice. It poured down his throat in a cascade of warm silk, and he wished like hell that he was drinking from her in a frenzy of passion instead of draining her in the hopes that she’d come back to him.

The flow began to thin and slow, even as her heart frantically tried to compensate for the blood loss. Her pulse tapped against his teeth as she hit the critical stage that tempted all vampires. At this point, they had a choice: stop and let their prey live or take a few more pulls and feel the high as the victim started to die.

Wraith needed her to die.

He took two more strong pulls. Her pulse was weak and thready, barely there. Quickly, he leaped to his feet and used his fangs to open a vein in his wrist. He held it to her lips. Blood ran in a thick stream down her chin.

“E? Why isn’t she feeding?” Panic made his question into a shout.

“She’s too far gone.” Eidolon cursed. “We’ll have to force it down.” He palmed her forehead with one hand and placed the other on her chin to open her mouth, CPR style. “We may need to insert a feeding tube.”

Wraith fired up his gift and dove into her mind. It was all swirling light in there, no substance, no awareness except for a heart-shattering sadness.

“Oh, no, my lirsha,” he whispered. “Come back. Come back to your dreams. I’m here. I’m waiting.” He inserted himself into the swirling light, forcing substance to form around him. He put himself in front of the Great Pyramid, with golden sands all around him.

And then she was there. Standing in front of him in a sheer, flowing white gown. “Where have you been? I’ve been so lost.”

“I’ve been right here, baby. I’ll always be right here.” He caught her by the shoulders and brought her to him. “I’m going to have to let you go, but only for a little while.”

“But—”

“Do you trust me?”

Her liquid eyes beamed up at him. “Yes.”

He struck, burying his fangs in her throat. She gasped before sighing and relaxing against him. She tasted good here, no taint of death. Just the pure, sweet nectar that only she could have running through her veins. He wanted to make love to her in the dream, but even now he felt her fading in his arms.

Reluctantly, he disengaged his fangs. Reaching up, he cut open his own throat with the blade he imagined in his hand.

“Josh!”

“Shh. It’s okay. Drink. Drink now, and drink hard. Hurry, Serena!”

She latched on as if she’d been feeding for centuries. She was a hunter, with killer instincts whether she was seeking ancient relics or taking blood. So. Freaking. Hot.

Distantly, he heard Eidolon’s voice. “That’s it, Serena. Swallow.”

It was working. She was drinking in the dream and in real life, and… she was gone. He was standing alone in the sand.

He snapped back into the hospital room, where she was swallowing weakly as his blood flowed onto her tongue.

The heart monitor beeped quietly. The blood pressure machine hissed as it released air from the cuff around her upper arm. An IV dripped saline incessantly into the tube connected to the back of one hand. And he stood there, feeling cold and empty.

Fuck that. This would not be a clinical operation. The woman he loved would take him the way this should happen. With him tangled up with her.

In one smooth move, he swung up on the narrow bed and stretched out beside her. As Serena swallowed, he nuzzled her throat and whispered to her. Soothing, comforting words he was surprised he knew. She was icy—too icy, and too still.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when Eidolon peeled his arm away from her mouth and sent a healing wave into him to seal the wound.

“She’s not drinking anymore,” E said. “If this took, she’ll wake tomorrow at dusk.”

“It will take,” Wraith said fiercely. “It has to.” He spent a few more quiet moments with Serena before Eidolon shook his shoulder gently. “It’s time, bro.”

“No.”

“Wraith, Shade is about to collapse.”

Wraith glanced over at his brother, who was trembling so hard his teeth were chattering. His dermoire’s glow had faded and began to flicker.

“You’ve got to let her go.”

A sob welled up in Wraith’s throat. The moment Shade let go of Serena, she’d die. And if the turning didn’t take…

I’ll lose her forever.

Eidolon gave Wraith’s shoulder a little squeeze. Oh, Gods… Wraith closed his eyes and nodded. Instantly, Shade’s power cut off, and Serena’s chest stopped moving. Her heart thumped once. Twice.

And beat no more.

The only sound in the room after that was the sound of Wraith’s scream.

Blackness swirled in an endless void. There was nothing there but a cold wind and a gnawing, relentless loneliness.

And hunger. Hunger… such as Serena had never experienced.

She felt like her stomach was caving in on itself with starvation. But the hunger went deeper than that. To the bone. To the soul.

She couldn’t open her eyes, so she lay still and listened. She heard the thump-whoosh of a beating heart. Of whisper-light breaths. Another sense roared to life: smell.

She caught the scent of something smoky, maybe brimstone? Then there was the heady, musky odor of… Josh.

Warmth burned into her side, a heavy, satisfying heat that stretched from her shoulder to her toes. She peeled open her eyes, but closed them immediately against the intensity of the light above. After a moment, she tried again, driven by the insane hunger.

Squinting in what she now realized was very dim, reddish light, she looked up at the dark ceiling and the weird chains and pulleys she’d seen earlier. Josh was stretched out on the bed beside her, one leg over hers, one arm draped across her belly. His face was tucked against the crook of her neck and shoulder. He couldn’t get any closer if he wanted to.

“Josh?” she said. Or tried to say. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She licked her lips, her tongue catching on sharp points—ouch.