All That Bleeds (5 page)

“Who are you?”

His smile was pure menace. “I’m your keeper, sweetheart.”

No way!

Her legs moved, almost without her thinking. She couldn’t get past him to the door, but she could put some distance between them. She staggered down the hall, stubbing her toes. Once inside a large bedroom, she slammed the door and locked it. Her gaze darted around the room. No phone, no way to call for help, but she had to escape.

He pounded on the door, and she jumped.

“Don’t make me come in there after you. You won’t like what happens when I do.”

Her legs burned and her chest wailed, everything cramping like she’d been running for miles. She stumbled to the far wall to lean against it. She didn’t want to lose consciousness, but felt so weak. This was shock, she realized, from dehydration. From blood loss.

She grasped the curtains, trying to steady herself, but they crashed down, unable to hold her entire body weight.

“All right, what the hell?” he bellowed.

Without the curtains, she could see the door that led to a balcony. How many stories up? Could she climb down?

She slumped against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Just breathing was such an effort.

The sound of a key turning in the lock made her muscles cramp in terror. She had to get away from him, but how?

She forced herself to stand. If she could get around him, maybe she could get out of the apartment. If he was ventala, that made him at least half human. Was there enough humanity in him for her to influence with her power?

The door swung open and he stalked in, frowning. “We’re not going to play games all night.” He gripped her arms and bent his face close, fangs hovering above her skin. Another bite would kill her.

She glared at him.

He ran his tongue along the side of her throat, making her stomach lurch in revulsion. She raked her nails down his arms. The predatory look in his slitlike eyes froze the breath in her chest, but she didn’t let fear show on her face.

He pinned her to the wall. “Do you need me to teach you a lesson about who’s in control here?”

Alissa let her expression turn to ice. She’d survived things worse than death. Survived with the silent, unshakable dignity that was her birthright. The last muse of the House of North was not going to grovel for some half-breed monster’s pleasure.

“Control me?” She shook her head with a grim smile. “That’s something you’ll never manage.”

His frown turned fierce. “We’ll see,” he sneered, his lips baring jagged fangs.

In the passenger seat of the dark-windowed sedan, Merrick hung up his cell phone. “No one admits to knowing anything,” he told Ox.

“Maybe Tobin doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Maybe the girl’s at home, asleep in her bed,” Ox said.

“For now, let’s assume she’s in Jacobi’s territory. She’ll be delivered to him. Anything else is a suicide play. Drive to Coliseum and Athens and park there.”

“Couple blocks from Jacobi’s building?”

Merrick nodded.

“If we take a walk through the street, someone’s sure to spot us. Especially if something’s going down. He’ll have more security.”

“No doubt,” Merrick said.

Ox found a parking spot on Coliseum Street and slid the car into it.

“You’re too recognizable. Stay in the car,” Merrick said, pulling a black mask down over his face.

“Boss, you can’t be thinking of going alone.”

“Pop the trunk, and stay sharp. I’m just going to have a look around, but I might be in a hurry to leave when I get back.”

“Boss, I could put on a mask, too. You gotta let me do what you pay me for—”

“Tonight, I’m paying you to drive. Stay in the car.”

Merrick got out. He opened the trunk and retrieved his enforcer duffel.

“Your life must be so tiring,” Alissa whispered breathlessly. If he’d been completely human and she hadn’t been ill, it would’ve been easy to overcome his will. Of course, if he’d been human, he wouldn’t have bitten her in the first place. There were those who wanted to kill all the ventala, ridding the earth of them as people had once exterminated all the vampires after the Rising. At the moment, she could almost agree with Grant and his cohorts who said the ventala were a menace beyond redemption.
Except for Merrick,
she couldn’t help adding in her mind.

She thrust as much muse power as she could focus into her voice. “You need rest.”

The man’s lids drifted down, his arms dropping. He slumped to the floor.

She took his keys, swaying dizzily.

Now, get out,
she thought, but her body couldn’t move as fast as she wanted. And he recovered too quickly, his dazed expression clearing, his eyes narrowing angrily. She tried to get around him, but he grabbed her leg. She jerked free. She slammed the heel of her hand into his nose, all her self-defense training coming back.

Then she grabbed the short security pole from the track of the sliding door. She hit him with it, snapping, “Fall!”

He stumbled, blood dripping from his nose and brow where she’d hit him. She lurched out onto the balcony and wedged the pole between the frame and the door handle.

He got to his feet and tried to jerk the door open. When it didn’t move, he slapped his palms against the glass. “You don’t have wings, baby,” he yelled. “Open this door.” He slammed his fist against it.

She locked eyes with him defiantly, even though her breath came and went in short gasps that sliced through her lungs like a knife. Her dry lips cracked, and she tasted a hint of blood. There was barely any blood left to flow through her.

She reached out and held the rail to steady herself as the world spun. She blinked against blurring vision, forcing herself to stay upright by sheer force of will. If death was the only option, she would do it on her own terms. She leaned against the rail, swaying as the view of the drop swam in and out of focus. When the time came, the silent fall to the concrete several stories below would only take seconds.

“You can barely stand up! You need to be in bed till the doctor gets here. Open the damn door! I’ll bust the glass if I have to.”

Open the door? So she could be a prisoner and a blood whore for him?
Never.

She glanced at the building’s exterior. Glossy black and pearly white. Stark and shocking, so unlike anything in the Etherlin.

Her muscles cramped and her knees gave way. Her skin scraped against the rough outdoor carpet. She raised a palm, staring at the eerie bloodless scratches.
No blood left
.

Burning pain became piercing and lanced through her.

She realized she wouldn’t need to jump.

Pain blossomed in her chest. Death was coming.

There was extra security. A guy on the back door. Probably a guy on the roof, too, Merrick thought, looking up. He went still.

There was a body on the penthouse balcony. A blonde-haired, porcelain-skinned body.
That had better not be her,
he thought wildly.

He yanked his binoculars out of the duffel.
She’s too valuable,
he told himself as he raised the binoculars. Jacobi wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of getting her out of the Etherlin only to kill her on the first night.

Unless the asshole couldn’t resist biting her, and he’d drained her dry. Merrick’s muscles bunched.
If he did, I’ll kill him for it. He’ll pay for her blood with his own.

Merrick swallowed his rage. It was the vampire in him talking. His human side reasoned that he had no claim on the girl. Avenging her wasn’t his responsibility.

The lattice of the bars made it impossible to tell for sure if the woman was Alissa North, but whoever was on that balcony wasn’t moving.

He should walk away. If she was already dead, there was no point starting a blood feud.

What if she’s not dead?

He set the duffel down lightly. He popped a nonkilling clip into his gun and fitted it with a silencer, then he slung the harpoon rifle and its corded nylon rope over his shoulder.

He stayed in the shadow of the opposite building until he was ten feet from Jacobi’s. Two shots took the backdoor guard down. That bullet between the eyes was going to give the guy a major headache.

Merrick shot the spike into the underside of the balcony and started up the rope. Alive or dead, he had to know.

Roses. She smelled roses, which reminded her of Merrick. She dreamed he was standing over her. Beautiful and dark, like a fallen angel.
Fallen.

Why didn’t he smile? In her dreams, he always wore the smirk that she’d never forgotten.

“Smile.” Her voice was soft and rough. She tried to raise her hand to touch him, but it was too heavy. He would disappear now. That’s what he did in her dreams.

“Rest,” he said. He caressed her cheek with his fingertip, which surprised her because he’d never touched her before.

“I’m thirsty.”

He smiled.
Finally.

“I bet you are,” he said.

His voice was different than she remembered. Deeper. Her pulse throbbed in her ears. Something was wrong. “Am I—?” She tried to sit up, her eyes darting around the dim room. Rich, heavy fabrics. Eggplant trimmed in gold. The colors were wrong for one of her dreams.

“Where am I?” she croaked. It wasn’t a dream, she realized with a stab of fear.

“My penthouse.”

His penthouse? How had that happened?

She looked down at the bandage taped to the inside of her
right elbow; an IV sprouted from underneath it. A memory surfaced of another penthouse. Of preparing to die.

“How did I get here?”

“I brought you.”

She clutched the thick, velvety coverlet. “I was on a balcony…”

He nodded.

“In the Varden. This is the Varden, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He moved a plush, deep purple chair next to the bed and sat.

She massaged her temples with her fingertips, trying to piece together the details.

“I don’t understand,” she said and fell silent. He waited as her mind connected the dots.

She’d survived somehow. Impossible as that had seemed.

She’d been so anemic that her body had gone into shock. But she wasn’t suffocating now. Why wasn’t she, she wondered.

“Did you give me blood?” she asked sharply.

“Had to.”

“Not your blood.”

He smiled. “No. Not tainted blood. Clean human blood. I would’ve given you muse blood, but that’s generally hard to come by.”

She frowned. It hadn’t been hard to come by for the ventala who’d fed on her. “I can’t remember what happened,” she said.

“Here,” he said, holding out a glass. “Orange juice fortified with iron.”

She took it and sipped. “I must have been kidnapped—and drugged, I suppose.” She glanced at him to gauge his expression.

“Tell me the last thing you remember,” he said. His voice was so smooth, so calm and reassuring. She was grateful for that.

“I’d been at a party.”

“What happened there?”

“Nothing special. I remember leaving…then my mind’s
blank, like the memories were erased.” She shook her head. “I woke up in a strange apartment. I collapsed on the balcony.” She ran her fingers absently over the blanket. “How did you…?”

“Don’t worry about how I found you. Concentrate on how you got into the Varden to begin with.”

“I don’t know. You’re the only person in this area that I’m acquainted with—remotely acquainted with,” she felt compelled to add. The letters had been reasonably safe, but this definitely wasn’t. Being in the same room with him? So much could go wrong. He could lose control.

She didn’t completely trust herself either. There was something about him that she found so compelling. She made her tone falsely optimistic. “It’s incredible that I ended up here.”

She shivered as the circumstances sank in. She was lying in a bed in the home of a ventala who’d been interested in her ever since they’d met. One she’d written letters to. Letters that smacked of a familiarity they were never supposed to have. Of course, he understood the situation. The limitations. She knew he did, because he’d never tried to see her. Not once.

She realized she might be able to overcome the disaster of the night, to save herself from ruin. If she was clever and quick, the Wreath Muse position might not be lost and, with it, her only hope of saving her dad.

“I have to go home immediately,” she said.

He studied her in a cool, assessing way. Would he help her or not?

A knock at the door startled her, and she jerked.

He watched her for a moment, ignoring the door. “I know you’ve been through something and that you’re scared—”

“I’m not scared.”

He smiled at her bravado, which they both knew wasn’t completely genuine. “You’re on edge,” he offered diplomatically.

She shrugged.

“Well, you can relax while you’re in my house. No one will hurt you here.”

She ran a finger over the bandage on her wounded arm.
The place where she’d been bitten. “Not even you?” she asked boldly.

He leaned forward so his mouth was very close to her ear. “The only way I’ll bite you is if you invite me to.”

Her heart raced, and her lips went dry. “I’ll never do that,” she whispered in a voice that was more breathless than she intended.

“Probably not.” He leaned back. “You look good with color in your cheeks again.”

He walked to the door. She fisted the covers to brace herself as he opened it. She recognized the waiting man. She’d seen him in pictures. His name was Mr. Orvin, and he was the enormous bodyguard with spiked blond hair who went everywhere with Merrick, as if Merrick needed a bodyguard.

“What’s up, Ox?” Merrick asked.

“Cato Jacobi’s downstairs, boss. He wants to talk to you. Seems to think we’ve got something that belongs to him.” Orvin’s quick glance at her conveyed his meaning.

Alissa’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I don’t know anyone named Cato Jacobi.”

“You don’t know his name, but you’ve met him,” Merrick said, tapping the inside of his left elbow as he looked at her. Her hand drifted to the sore spot. “I picked you up from his balcony.”