Vamped Up (8 page)

Slade wrapped an arm around her middle. Did he notice her odd behavior too? “Ruan, it doesn’t take a genius to know that something from your past is connected to these death shades. That’s why the council wanted you here, deciphering these pages. You have to know something that’ll send these death shades back to the Nether Realm.”

“If I knew how to kill them a hundred years ago, why would I encrypt that information? Don’t you think I would’ve written it in plain English so the rest of my haven would know how to defeat them too? If I faced these things and they are as evil as everyone seems to think they are, why wouldn’t their Achilles’ heel be common knowledge? Why would the answers be hidden from our race so we’d fall at their mercy again, a full century later?”

“Have you thought about the possibility that you hid the information
from
your race?” Slade’s words dropped heavy and full into the room, expanding into the space until there was no breathable air left for Ruan’s lungs. “Maybe that traitor you mentioned was a part of your haven in a position of power. You think it’s a coincidence that these deaths shades pop up one other time in history and it happens to be the exact incident that wiped your memory? That the only information we have about them is something you wrote right before it happened? No. Something’s not adding up here. Someone has to know what happened to you and why you were the only one to survive the massacre.”

From Slade’s embrace, Dylan heaved, a deep, primal sound of losing her lunch. She heaved again, covering her mouth, scrambling to get her hands on the trash can in the corner. Their gazes tracked Dylan’s hunched over form, watched her auburn curls spilling over the wire rim of the can. When she looked up, wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she bolted from the room, trashcan under arm, leaving the door swinging open behind her.

Ruan started after her. Slade grabbed his arm.

“Don’t,” he said, the rough edge of his voice scratching against Ruan’s ears. “She’s mine, remember? I’ll take care of her. You stay here and try to figure this shit out. Listen, maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with saving the race. Whatever it is might have to do with
you,
and you personally. A message from the Ruan of 1912 to the Ruan of the present. My gut tells me these scrolls weren’t written for anyone else and my gut’s hardly ever wrong. Now you just have to figure out the reason. Start praying to whatever god you pray to that it’s not your great-grandmother’s long lost cherry-blood cobbler recipe or some shit.”

Slade pointed a firm finger into Ruan’s chest that he batted away like a fly. “That’s the only reason the council would need you for this job and not some other think tank. I suggest you wake up from whatever daydream you’re living in and start realizing that this problem isn’t going to go away simply because you want it to.”

Ruan’s mind skipped to his nightmares. To his fang marks, red and swollen, on Eve’s inner thigh. Slade was right. Ruan’s nightmares had returned and he wasn’t going to stop having them just because he didn’t want to watch Eve be drained by his fangs over and over again. He had to figure out what the hell this all meant. Were the two things connected? Was the imminent danger felt in his nightmares somehow related to what was happening at his haven with these death shades? And with these scrolls in his hand? How did that danger relate to him hurting Eve?

There were millions of logical reasons why Eve shouldn’t be related to the peril relayed in the scrolls, the main being that Eve wasn’t even around during the 1912 massacre. But for some reason Ruan couldn’t explain, his gut warned that his and Slade’s initial instincts were right.

It might’ve been the first time the two actually agreed on something.

Against his will, like a thorn in his side that wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace, Ruan’s thoughts darted to the sweet taste of Eve’s blood coating his lips in his nightmare. How long would he be able to lie next to her without losing control? Her tantalizing fragrance teased him every second of every day. Thoughts of her naked body, perfect and smooth like a porcelain doll hovering over him, pressed beneath him, made his stomach ache with need every second of every night. Would the day ever come when she’d realize he was no good for her? That he was causing her more harm than good?

“I think you know what you need to do,” Slade grumbled. “Figure it out fast, Ruan, before more vamps gets hurt. Do whatever it takes to remember any little detail from your past. Dylan wasn’t lying when she said it spoke Eve’s name.”

Ruan nodded, running his fingers through his hair, pulling it back. His past and his future were about to collide full-force. “Shit.”

Slade turned, striding through the door, slamming it behind him. Only the door didn’t close. It hit the jamb so hard that it rebounded back to its original position against the wall.

Through the open door, Ruan caught sight of something that had pure fury pumping through his veins, throbbing against his skull. Dylan getting sick mid-conversation, Slade, and all traces of the talk about his instincts and the scrolls vanished from Ruan’s mind.

Sitting in the middle of the lab with a ReVamp blood tech at her side, relaxed as could be, her arm stretched out for blood draw, was Eve. The lab tech snapped an empty vial onto the back of a needle and bent lower to puncture the soft flesh of her inner arm. Eve was downright comfortable. Smiling. Like she’d gone through this process a million times before.

Behind his back.

Ruan’s eyes pinched tight, narrowing to slits. His vision blurred red with rage.

Chapter Twelve

“Fear of the unknown can drive you mad. Take comfort in the fact that thousands of vampires have successfully transitioned before you. Take your new drink preferences one stomach pang at a time.”

Newborn Vampire Induction Manual II: New Beginnings

E
VE BARELY HAD
time to register what was happening.

Ruan burst into ReVamp’s lab, stormed across the room, and shoved the lab tech in the chest. He stood before her, jaw pulsing, hair disheveled, his lips strained white. “What are you doing here?” he ground out. His voice was level, a drone of anger threatening to erupt. “This is the
last
place I’d expect to find you.”

Busted.
But on second thought, she was about to say the exact thing about him. Didn’t he hate this place for what it demanded of her? How many times had he sworn never to come back here? Her gaze shifted to the rubber strap tied just above her elbow, then back to him. “I, uh, please don’t be angry, I just—”

“You just what? Decided to come in behind my back and donate a pint? Get your bag. I’m getting you out of here.” Barely giving her time to snatch her purse off the floor, Ruan put a hand on the small of her back and escorted her toward the door.

Dylan threw up her hands and blocked the exit, eyes pleading. “Ruan, wait, I can explain.”

“I don’t need your explanation.” His jaw clenched, ticking, and his even tone cracked. “I need to get Eve out of here before I hurt someone.”

Eve wiggled her arm out of Ruan’s grasp. “You need to stop being so over-dramatic. You’re not going to hurt anyone.”

Ruan spun around. “Why don’t you tell that to the techie with a death wish holding the needle over there.” He pointed at the lab tech who was standing against the back wall, as far away from the action as possible. “One scent of your blood could have every bloodlusting vamp in the place bursting through the lab doors. This place is designed to house vamps who have trouble controlling their urges, Eve. You think that sucker over there isn’t getting off on your scent right now?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“If he even looks in your direction again I’ll turn his eyes into pincushions.” He pinched his eyes closed and took a deep, jagged breath. As if restraint was the hardest thing for him to hold onto.

The high-pitched clink of a needle being dropped into a porcelain sink echoed through the lab and whipped Ruan’s eyelids back open.

“That’s my boy,” Slade rumbled from behind her. “ ‘Bout time you manned up, Ruan.”

Ruan stepped past Eve, going chest to chest with Slade. “Don’t think just because we’re working together on the scrolls that we have some sort of fucking brotherly bond. I’ll rip out your jugular the same as his if I find you’re involved in this.”

As Slade shook his head and laughed, Dylan chimed in. “Eve’s right, Ruan. Calm down. No one’s going to get hurt tonight. It’s not in you to be that way.”

“You have no idea what’s in me.” Ruan turned his attention to Dylan. “Are you the one who put Eve up to this? You’re the one who asked her here?” When Ruan stepped closer, Slade roped his arm through Dylan’s—a protective gesture Ruan ignored by stepping closer still. “Dylan, how could you ask Eve to come here, knowing how I felt about it? You’ve successfully duplicated her blood and strengthened the race with it. What more do you need from her? From us?”

Ruan just didn’t understand. Even if Eve had never met Dylan, had never been asked to donate blood on behalf of their khiss, she still would’ve come regularly, giving herself as needed for the vampires in Crimson Bay. Ruan would simply have to understand that was the way it was.

The way it would always be.

Eve cupped Ruan’s clenched fist gently. “Ruan, listen to me.” As his gaze set upon hers, she hesitated, waiting for the fire lighting his eyes a bright evergreen to settle to a calm aqua. She stroked his arm, up to his shoulder, and back down to his hand, where she weaved her fingers in his. “Dylan didn’t ask me to come back. I’ve been donating at vampire rehabilitation centers like this one since I was in high school. After we ran away from all of this, I realized I couldn’t stay away from my responsibility and I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t think you’d understand.”

“Responsibility?” Ruan’s voice kicked up a pitch as his hands became fidgety; skimming through his sunshine-gold waves, scratching under his jaw, picking at the lip of his jeans. His paper-thin restraint was disappearing before her eyes. “You play no part in any of this. How can it be your responsibility to feed our race?”

Eve sighed, and let the past roll off her tongue. “When I was young, my mother and I were attacked by a therian in front of our home. It was too late for my mother, but a vampire—a very kind-hearted vampire—stepped in and saved me.” She brushed a hand down Ruan’s cheek. His skin goose-bumped beneath her fingers. “Maybe by my donating, I can somehow reach the vampire who saved me all those years ago. It’s my way of thanking your race.” She shrugged. “Of giving back a piece of myself that wouldn’t be here without the generous act of one.”

“I’m sorry, Eve. No child should have to go through something like that.” As Ruan’s emerald eyes cooled to aqua, he shook his head. “You were exposed to our race so young . . .”

“It’s all I’ve ever known.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, I just don’t understand how you could do this behind my back.”

“I wasn’t doing it to purposefully hurt you. It was something I had to do.”

“How long . . .” He chewed on his lip. “How long have you been coming here?”

“I’ve just kept up with my regular appointments after work, that’s all. It doesn’t take away from any of our time together and it’s not really for you to decide anyway.”

“You’re giving up a part of you.” He growled low, sounding pained. “Don’t get me wrong, Eve. After hearing what happened to you, I can understand why you’d be drawn to places like this. Places that provide for vamps in need. But I need you to understand that your blood is not just some red ooze that drips out of your veins. It’s your energy, your spirit. The part of you I hunger for day and night. All this time I’ve been torturing myself to keep you pure. Keeping my fangs in check. For what? So you can give yourself freely to every bingeing vamp that strolls in here wanting a fix?” He shook his head and dropped her hand. “God, it pains me to even think about your blood passing someone else’s lips.”

Even though he was standing inches from her, Eve felt the crack between them separate into an abyss. Damn it. She swore to herself when he left the warmth of their bed the other night that she wouldn’t let him put distance between them.

Yet here he was, doing it again. Over something as ridiculous as filling up vials of blood once a week. Why was he holding so tightly to her, shielding her from the vampires she’d come to know as friends? Was he so afraid of losing her to another? Or did it go deeper than that?

Suddenly her path became clear. She knew what she had to do.

“You said you hunger for me, Ruan? Yet you don’t want me donating to anyone else?” She reached behind her, to the lab table that was stocked full of medical supplies. Gripping a surgical knife tight, she held it to the heart of her palm. “And I want nothing more than to be with you . . . no restrictions. No walls between us.”

Ruan hissed, his fangs tapping against on his bottom lip. “What are you doing?”

Dylan and Slade exited quietly through the lab doors to the lobby. She’d have to thank them for their discretions later. She had the situation—and Ruan—well under control.

Eve swallowed hard and focused on slowing her pulse. “If you don’t want my blood filling anyone else, then drink from me. Right here. Right now. If you can take that step for me, I’ll match it. I’ll pull back on my donations.”

Tension released from Ruan’s shoulders as they slumped forward. “Eve, please.” He sounded pained. Torn.

She pressed the knife firmly against her open hand. She didn’t plan on slicing through her palm deeply or anything. Just a little nick to draw some blood. Hell, maybe if Ruan got really worked up, he’d let her ditch the knife completely and drink straight from her neck. The thought alone made her slick with want.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he pleaded, trying to coax the knife away from her. “You know how I feel about this. I—I can’t drink from you, Eve.”

“You can.” She held the blade steady, pressing it lightly against her skin. “I can’t walk away now. I’m in too deep.”

Ruan inhaled deeply, wavering a bit on the rough exhale. He licked his lips. Blinked so slowly she thought maybe he was catching the scent of her blood from where he stood, a few feet from her. He
really
didn’t want to be tempted with her blood. It made her yearn to push harder. To test his limits. He wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head, she knew. But then why was he hesitating? Did he really think he wouldn’t be able to stop himself once he tasted her?

She sighed, her resolution stronger than ever. “This is a long time coming, Ruan. It’s time for you to realize that you’re not going to hurt me by taking my vein. I was hoping we could’ve done this gradually over time.”

“Stop.”

“It looks like the time is now.”

“Don’t.”

“You love me. And I love you. Vampires across Crimson Bay drink from loved ones all the time without causing each other pain. Look at Dylan and Slade.”

“I said stop, Eve.” A dark musky smell emitted from his skin. It was possession. Deep rooted need. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” The pained look in his expression had her debating her next words.

But it was too late. There was no turning back. She’d spent an entire month begging him to drink from her. To share one of the most erotic experiences a vampire and mundane could share. Yet he’d denied her. Time and time again. He’d rather drink from an impersonal Alvambra bottle—an unknown blood source shipped from outside Crimson Bay—than drink from her. Now he was asking her to stop donating her blood—the only thing that made her feel like she was finally repaying the debt that had been laid out for her all those years ago.

“Either drink from me now, proving to yourself that you have the strength to do this, or let me fulfill my personal obligation to your race on
my
terms.” Stifling a gasp, she punctured her skin with the tip of the blade, then lifted the steel to examine it. Her blood, red and thick, hung on the edge. “That’s only fair, given what we both want, don’t you think?”

With a hollow-sounding groan, Ruan snatched her hand and licked her palm, sending chills exploding through her hand and across her chest. He swept her off her feet into his arms, and carried her into the side office, kicking the door shut behind him.

R
UAN’S CONTROL WAS
hanging on by a thread. Especially now that a few drops of her blood hung on his lips.

Drinking from Eve’s vein should’ve been simple; she was right in that regard. Vampires drank from their loved ones all the time. Not for sustenance, of course, because only human blood sustained their extended life . . . but for the bonding that came with it. The erotic rush. With Eve he could have the best of both worlds.

The pleasure of taking her vein and the fill of his primal need all at the same time.

But Eve didn’t know what she was asking him to do. She didn’t know the desire building inside him at night to drain her dry. Nor did she know the nightmares plaguing him during the day, pushing him on, tempting him to fulfill his darkest desires with her blood and her body.

Not to mention he hadn’t slept in days and he was due for a feeding
yesterday
.

To make matters worse, if they could even get worse, Eve smelled so damn good. Feminine. Soft. Teasingly refreshing. And he wasn’t picking up the rose hips in her shampoo or the lavender lotion she lathered over her skin. He was picking up hints of her blood.

It was driving him mad. Twisting his stomach into knots. Weakening his will day after day.

Like a line snapped inside him, Ruan kicked his office door shut and set Eve on the floor. His heartbeat thumped in his ears. His skin chilled with fading restraint.

He didn’t waste time gathering the scrolls from his desk and setting them safely aside. No, with one quick swipe of his arm, he sent everything from the scrolls to a canister of pencils to the computer monitor careening to the floor.

Eve stared at him like she’d won their little fight, with a glint in her dual-toned eyes and a smile on her plump lips. She had no idea what she was in for, what the animal inside him wanted to do to her.

Snaking an arm around her tiny waist, he pulled her against his chest and planted a hard, possessive kiss on her mouth. She was about to get all she asked for and then some.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth. He moaned as it twisted along his, tracing lines around his lips, diving deep in his throat.

He needed more. Her kiss wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.

His hands skipped to her jeans, then his. Buttons popped. Zippers dropped. Shirts flew overhead. They shoved their pants to the floor, where they stepped out of them and kicked them aside. As his hand found the warmth of her center, he palmed her, stroking a finger along her core.

“I won’t stop until I get what I want,” she said, smudging kisses along his jaw. “Don’t stop.”

He teased her gently with his fingers, spinning slow circles against her most sensitive skin, although he knew the release she really wanted included a set of puncture marks. Nevertheless, she trembled against his fingertips, her muscles softening with desire.

He hardened, his cock begging for the touch of her hand. He kissed her square on the mouth. Hurried and desperate. She answered his unspoken plea, stroking his aching shaft with long, slow strokes. When he leaned against the desk, his legs suddenly weak, she widened her stance to give him easier access to her center. No matter how deep his fingers sank into her slick heat, or how fast she stroked him, it wasn’t enough.

He needed more. Her kiss, and now her touch, wasn’t enough.