Between a Vamp and a Hard Place (19 page)

It hurt me that he constantly had to seek out others. I couldn't feed him—we'd both decided that I needed to be full strength for our upcoming surprise attack, and even a hint of anemia on my part could work against us. So Rand drank from anonymous strangers.

And I tried not to let it get to me. I tried not to think about it at all.

Which meant, of course, that I thought about it constantly.

I wondered if they were all women. Were they pretty? Did the women swoon with an orgasm the moment he sank his fangs into them? Did he wipe their memories?

Did they taste as good as I did?

It was insane to think about these sorts of things.

Of course, nothing about our adventure seemed
sane
. It was all just . . . necessary. Like the fact that Rand had no identification, and the more we'd traveled and used public transport, the more it had been a requirement. At first, Rand had simply used his vampire wiles to make people ignore the fact that he'd had no passport or photo ID. But as the question had kept coming up, we'd looked up an office for the local American embassy and stopped there one night for an emergency passport renewal. I'd turned the other cheek while Rand had charmed and beguiled the girl working at one of the desks.

Two hours later, he'd had a drink and a temporary passport. He'd even gotten a photo ID with his name and a photo that sort of looked like him if you squinted hard. How he'd managed that, I wasn't sure.

I'd been sitting in the lobby, jealously fuming. But what else could I have done? He needed the IDs. So I'd ignored my hurt feelings, and I'd ignored the fact that he'd made it up to me by showering me with attention and compliments as we'd ridden the train.

I hated that I'd been so weak to fall for all the compliments, but they
had
improved my mood. And as we'd talked and chatted and journeyed across the Alps and up to Switzerland, I'd grown more and more attached to my vampire. Sure, it wasn't a ton of time, but it felt like we'd always been together. Rand had a wicked sense of humor and a flirty attitude that made his arrogance almost charming. As he and I grew closer, I felt more guilt over Gemma. It was my fault she was in danger, and I was starting to think that if it came down to a trade, I didn't know if I
could
give Rand up. It was more than just friendship. More than just a sense of obligation.

My life was starting to be defined as Before Rand and After Rand. And I couldn't imagine life without him. Without his awestruck smile as he saw a modern marvel that I took for granted. His chuckle as I told a corny joke. The way his hand played with my hair as we went to bed together. The cool touch of his fingers laced with mine.

We remained celibate, even though I knew we were both thinking about sex. It was on my mind every time Rand emerged from the shower, skin gleaming with damp, his body warm from stolen blood. I knew it was on Rand's mind when he'd watch my mouth as I spoke, or the hot caress of his gaze when he thought I wasn't paying attention.

But we couldn't. It wasn't just that Gemma was at risk, though that was a factor. It was that Rand would drink from me if we had sex. He'd made that extremely clear.

And while Gemma was in Guy's hands, we wouldn't touch each other.

But after?

I found myself unwilling to think of anything
but
after. There would be an after. We'd get my best friend back and then we'd see what happened next.

Rand came around the car to my side and squeezed my arms, the look on his face encouraging. “Are you ready to do this, Lindsey?”

Was I about to get the medieval version of the pregame pep talk? “I think so.”

“Do you have your stakes?”

I shifted my weight and felt the press of the wooden stakes I'd velcroed inside the pair of calf-high boots I'd bought specifically for this. We'd made the stakes from a pair of broken antique chairs in the Venice apartment. It had hurt my soul to see the wreckage, but at least it was going to good use. And it was fitting that if I had to stake someone, it would be with a chair the vampires had destroyed. “Got the stakes,” I assured him.

He nodded. “Holy water?”

I patted the two flasks taped into my bra, between each boob and underarm. My sweater was loose-necked enough that I could reach through and pull one out, and I'd practiced the move repeatedly. I'd wanted to tuck them into the front of my sweater, but that had provided a quadra-boob effect that fooled no one. “Holy water ready.”

“Garlic?”

I groaned. “God, I really hate this part.”

Rand gave me a rueful smile. “It is as painful for me as it is for you.” His hand caressed my cheek briefly, then he took a step back, waiting.

I sighed and reached into the backseat of the car. “This is the worst.” In a bag, I had a plastic spoon and an extra large jar of minced garlic for cooking, plus a bottle of water and a tiny bottle of mouthwash. I glared at Rand, as if this was his fault. “I'm never eating garlic again when I get home.”

“I would encourage that,” Rand said, leaning up against the car and waiting for me to continue. His mouth tugged up in a teasing smile. “Be strong.”

Strong. Sure. He wasn't the one that had to choke down minced raw garlic. I'd considered getting entire bulbs and just chugging the cloves, but that presented two problems—one, getting it in the car with Rand (who didn't seem to be affected by the jarred variety), and two, the fact that I'd have to chew all that garlic. At least the minced was chopped finely enough that I could mostly just swallow it down if I got it to the back of my throat.

Mostly.

I groaned as I unscrewed the lid on the jar. Normally I loved a bit of garlic in food, or garlic bread with my pasta. But this? This was just revolting.

I dug my spoon in, sucked in a deep breath, and shoved a mouthful in.
Think of Gemma,
I told myself as my gorge rose. I squinted, eyes streaming, and cough-gagged my way down.

“Keep going,” Rand said.

“I'm going as fast as I can,” I said, taking a swig of the water. “You try eating some raw garlic and see how fast you can go!”

“You know that wouldn't work at all,” Rand said, and pointed at himself. “Vampire.”

“Sarcasm,” I retorted, then pointed at myself with the spoon. “Lindsey.”

“Less complaining, more eating,” he teased, keeping his distance. As I spooned another mouthful, I noticed he took another step back, his expression becoming less amused and more uncomfortable.

As much as I complained about the taste (because really, it was awful), this was all part of our strategy. If I happened to be found by a stray vampire, and if he was the bitey kind, he'd get more than he could handle. We were hoping it'd be enough, between the garlic and the stakes and the holy water. The garlic so far was the roughest part, because I couldn't slowly build up the amount in my body over a few days. It would have reeked out of my pores with the quantity I was currently chowing down on, and that would have been a dead giveaway.

As it was, all I needed to do was get through this jar and then freshen my breath with mouthwash. Lots and lots of freshening.

By the time I got a few more spoonfuls in, my stomach was burning a protest, and my gag reflex was threatening to go off. “That has to be enough. I can't take any more,” I told Rand, chugging the bottle of water before switching to the mouthwash. I rinsed and spat on the roadside a few times, then spritzed myself with a light, fresh perfume. I looked over at him. “Do you want to come smell me?”

He moved forward, expression wary, and gave me a quick sniff. “I smell that blue drink.”

“That's mouthwash.”

Rand sniffed me again, leaning so close his nose was practically in my hair. “You smell delectable, as always.”

“I imagine that'll change once things digest and soak in,” I told him ruefully.

“Then we shouldn't waste any time,” he said. And before I could agree, Rand leaned in, grabbed me, and pressed his mouth to mine in a quick, firm kiss. “That is for luck,” he said, then wove unsteadily on his feet.

“Eeep.” I barely managed to grab him before he went down. “Maybe you don't kiss the girl that just tongued a bunch of garlic, huh?”

“I wanted to kiss you,” he murmured, voice sleepy. He pushed me away gently, then braced himself against the car. “If this is to be my last memory, I wanted it to be a good one.”

That was alarming. “Don't be so gloomy,” I told him, keeping my voice cheerful. “We're going to get Gemma, and then we'll figure out what comes next.”

He nodded, shaking off the effects of the kiss and straightening.

I looked down the road into the tiny, dark valley, where a small Swiss chalet was nestled amongst trees. That was Guy's hideout. “I guess I should start heading down.”

“Stay safe,” Rand told me, his gaze sober. “I mean that. I need you.”

“Of course you do,” I said blithely, capping the garlic and leaving it next to the tire. I didn't want it back in the car. “Who else will be your guide to the twenty-first century?”

“No. I need
you,
Lindsey.”

Speechless, I gazed at him. At his handsome, sad, noble face. I wanted to say so much, but Gemma first. So I gave him a faint smile, then turned on my heel and began to race down the path toward the home of Guy. We needed to do this, and I wouldn't let Rand down. Or Gemma.

Determined, I kept walking. We'd found Guy's house and parked a mile or so away so we could have the element of surprise . . . well, such as it was. I had no doubt that Guy knew Rand was closing in. I just hoped that Rand's plan would work and any vampires in the vicinity would come after Rand and not me.

And I hoped Rand could handle them.

I paused and glanced back. The hills of the valley were steep and green, but if I squinted hard, I could make out a shape darting through the trees at inhuman speed. Rand.
Stay safe,
I mentally sent to him.
If we get through this alive, you can totally use me as your personal juice box and I will love every moment of it,
I promised.

I headed down the deserted road, toward the tiny house. If I were a centuries-old vampire, I don't know that I would have chosen a remote little valley in Switzerland to set up shop, but everything about the place bespoke privacy. Maybe that was all Guy wanted after hundreds of years of servitude to the Dragon? Who knew how his mind worked? As I sprinted, I kept to the trees on the side of the road, trying to stay out of sight in case a car came down the way. The altitude was killing me, though, and I huffed and panted my way across the steep hillsides as I avoided the road.

I wished we'd done this in the daytime, when everyone was asleep. Maybe then I could have broken into the house, gotten Gemma out, and whisked her away before anyone could notice. Rand had been totally against the idea, though. What if Guy set traps? he'd asked me. He wouldn't be able to rescue me for hours on end, and at least this way, if things went south, I still had someone for backup. We'd purchased a burner phone for Rand, and even though he didn't really know how to operate it, he knew that if it rang, I was in trouble and he should come for me.

The Swiss house was an adorable sort of chalet set off on one side of a steep, tree-covered hill. I imagined in the winter it would be nestled in snow, but for now it was just surrounded by wet green grass. My boots slipped as I scrambled up the hill, heading for the lit windows. After all, it wasn't as if I could go to the front door. The wooden chalet had a steep A-shaped roof and a balcony wrapping around the house. From where I was sneaking up, I could see a heavy stone fireplace, multiple windows, and what looked like a woodpile under the steps. The windows all had their shades drawn, which worried me a bit. Were we expected?

I circled the house, looking for the best way in. The front was a no-go, obviously. The windows were too high off the ground, and the balcony looked as if it was made of wood, and wood creaked. Since the chalet was set on a slope, though, the back of the house was closer to the ground, and I found a small window back there that looked as if it would open up into a room. Perfection. I snuck up on it, keeping my steps as quiet as possible. Rand had incredible hearing, so I wagered that Guy did, too, if he was home.

Please, please don't be home.

It felt like it took forever for me to cross to my chosen window. Once I was there, though, I put my fingertips carefully on the lip at the bottom and tried to pull it up.

No go.

I studied the window. It didn't look as if it was locked. I tried again, then felt stupid when it gave
inward
. It was one of those windows you flipped
in
to open. Duh. European houses were different from American houses. I peered into the dark room. It looked like a bathroom.

Okay, I could deal with that. A bathroom could be a safe spot to enter the house. Heck, a bathroom wouldn't be used much by a vampire, so that could totally work. Carefully, I pushed the window in a bit more, judging the width. When it was big enough for me to slide in, I stuck my legs through, turned on my belly, and began to do a weird sort of shimmy into the house.

I misjudged the fall inside, though. My legs hung in the air, touching nothing no matter how much I pointed my toes. I wiggled a few more inches down than felt safe, trying to find a foothold—

—and my entire body crashed through to the other side. My head smacked against the lip of the porcelain tub, and I had to bite back a groan of pain as red shot through my vision. Dear God, that hurt. I lay on my back in the tub, panting, trying to fight back the pain, and hoping against hope that I hadn't made enough noise to bring anyone—

The door opened, light flooding into the small, dark bathroom. A man stood there, his hair inky black, skin pale. He had a neat, manicured goatee and pointed features. And he looked at me and tsked.