Caleb (35 page)

Vincent
didn’t even glance her way. “He’s no longer your concern.”

Another
breath and she managed a reasonable semblance of calm. “If you need me alive,
you need him alive.”

Please
let them need me alive.

His
gray eyes deepened to a harsh slate color as he glanced down at her. The red
swirls multiplied until they dominated the irises. “Why?”

“I
can’t accept blood from anyone but him.”

“You’re
lying.”

The
lump of bodies on the other side of the haze shifted to an irregular shadow.
She met his gaze directly. “No, I’m not.”

His
pupils narrowed and then expanded. She didn’t even attempt to try and block his
probe. Sometimes it was just easier to let people find out for themselves what
was true. When he pulled back, she reinforced his deduction. “Without him, I
die.”

He
frowned. She followed the direction of his gaze. The lump separated into six
shadows. One still lay on the ground.
C’mon, Caleb. Move.

No
response from Caleb, but Vincent smirked. “You can’t use your telepathy here.”

“Why
not?”

“Because
I will not allow it.”

“And
who are you to tell me what I can or cannot do?”

“Your
future husband, soon to be father of your children.”

What
was it with everyone wanting to marry her? He stared at the archway again. A
sensation of mental energy stretched outward from him. The shadows moved,
picking up Caleb. He exploded into action. Two of the shadows went down under
his attack. For a brief second his silhouette stood out against the haze,
broad-shouldered, proud, and deadly. The other four converged on him. The cry
was instinctive. It came from her soul.

Fight!

He
did. With a fury and skill that awed, but he couldn’t win. Not with the numbers
that came at him. So many shadows that they looked like one, only the
occasional profile proving that he wasn’t up against some huge, monstrous alien
life-form. The ferocity of the attacker’s retaliation didn’t give her much
hope. She whimpered when he went down again. It seemed an eternity before the
shadows separated, stood.

They
stretched out in a line, some forming individual silhouettes. The ones in the
middle converged to one long shadow. The middle of that long shadow dipped and
then straightened. The middle of that long shadow had to be Caleb. He wasn’t
moving. She bit her lip on the agony of what that might mean. As if sensing her
thoughts, his head lifted. He was alive. But for how long? She clenched her
hands into fists, one finger at a time, not looking away from the archway until
Vincent forced her to.

“You
will forget about him.”

“I
don’t think so. He’s my husband.”

“That
can be changed.” He dragged her across the room, proceeding as if her struggles
meant nothing.

“Not
according to Caleb.”

“Your
cowboy, as you might have discovered, isn’t exactly an authority on vampire
reality.”

She
grabbed for the doorjamb, planted her feet, and held on. “And whose fault is
that?”

“His.”

With a
jerk he wrenched her free. She hissed in pain as her talons ripped, but took a
certain amount of satisfaction in the deep grooves left in the ornately carved
wood. Vincent jerked her up against his chest, glancing over her shoulder at
the damage and then back down. “You’ll pay for that.”

“And
so will you.”

“For
what?”

“For
every mark your cronies put on Caleb.”

“That
cowboy won’t be in a position to do anything.”

The
way he sneered the word “cowboy” hit her last nerve wrong, breeding
determination in the spot she’d thought reserved for fear. She used Vincent’s
grip on her arm as leverage and pushed her face closer to his. Caleb might be
difficult, and she might not have known him long, but he was her damn cowboy,
and no one got to threaten his life but her. “But I will be.”

His
scoffing laugh didn’t surprise her or even offend her. People always
underestimated her. She stood there, memorizing his expression, his energy,
every line in his face. She wanted to remember him beyond anyone’s ability to
erase. She waited, letting the anger feed her determination. Remembered the
horror when Caleb went down. Imagined his pain as they beat him at this man’s
command. Oh yes, Vincent would pay for that. For all of it.

She
stared long after his burst of laughter faded to nothing. Vincent’s lids
flickered. An almost imperceptible betrayal of unease. It was enough. She
pushed herself a fraction closer, keeping her voice as even and as calm as his.
“And I never forget.”

There
was another telling hesitation before he said, with all the smooth nonchalance
of before, “I’ll take my chances.”

She
smiled, held his gaze, and flicked his energy with hers. “You do that.”

And
when her chance came, she would take it.

He
snarled and yanked her forward. The hall he dragged her into was long and wide.
Expensive pieces of art lined each side. Unfortunately, he kept her to the
middle where she was unable to reach anything valuable. She bet ripping those
canvases would really hit a hot button. Vincent seemed the type to put a lot of
stock in his image and all the accoutrements that supported it.

“What
exactly is the point of this society you’re so proud of?”

“Quite
simply, those of us with the power have banded together to create a world that
meets our needs.”

“You’re
kidding me, right? You actually found a way for a bunch of arrogant asses to
coexist through eternity?”

“There
is always unrest, but in the end, the strong triumph.”

“And
you are?”

“The
strongest.”

“In
your opinion.”

“As
proven by time, conflict, and intellect.”

“Over
whom?” He yanked her through the next doorway too fast for her to make her
mark. “The bimbettes you collect as a food source?”

“Over
all vampires, weres, and humans. And, soon, my dear, you.”

He
dragged her over to a long spiral staircase. She grabbed the banister. “It’s
really too soon in our relationship for you to be obsessed with me.”

She
scanned for Caleb. There was no sign of his energy. She mentally called his
name. Still nothing. Panic began to blend with hunger and anger, churning in a
frustrated knot. She so did not do frustration well.

Vincent
reached over and pressed a point on her wrist. Her fingers went numb. With
another of those superior smiles, he lifted her hand free, locked both her
wrists in his grip, and started up the stairs. Two tugs proved she was trapped.
Why did vampire men have to be so strong?

“Because
we were meant to be superior.”

He
honestly believed that. He really was loony tunes. “Smugness is such an
unattractive quality in a man.”

“Is
it?”

She
eyed the distance from her foot to his butt as he preceded her up the stairs.
Too far. “Yes.”

“I
find that hard to believe, seeing as your former lover is one of the most
unreasonably arrogant men ever born.”

“To
some, maybe.”

He
stopped, the smile on his lips a perverted twist that didn’t bode well, talons
growing, pressing into her skin with the promise of pain. “There’s a difference
between confidence and arrogance.”

“Right.”

“Something
I fully intend to teach you.” He delivered on the promise, extending his talons
past her flesh into the muscle beneath, scraping the bone. There was no
containing the scream. It hurt too much for pride. She dropped, striking out
with her mind, hitting a solid wall. Oh God, she was helpless. He let her fall
to her knees, keeping her wrists above her head, punctuating the lesson he
wanted her to learn with a flex of his knuckles.

“It’ll
be up to you which way it goes, pleasure or pain.”

He
twisted her wrist, bringing her to the position he wanted, which was kneeling
at his feet, looking up at him.

With
his free hand he stroked her cheek, making the statement into a question.
“Which will it be, Allie? Pleasure or pain?”

Her
skin crawled at the parody of a caress. She closed her eyes, remembering
Caleb’s touch, how different it was. She might drive him nuts, but even at his
most furious, he’d always had respect for her. Vincent did not. The truth just
popped out along with her revulsion.

“You
don’t please me.”

“It
isn’t your pleasure that matters.”

“I
know.”

Tell
me what you want, Allie girl.

Caleb
or Vincent. Pleasure or pain. Heaven or hell. There was no comparison.

“You’re
nothing to me,” she ground out through the agony.

She
never saw him move, but suddenly he was squatting in front of her, his fingers
a painful bruise on her chin, his face just inches from hers, his eyes writhing
with red lights. “I’m God to you.”

She
swallowed, logic definitely called for retreat but everything in her responded
to his aggression. “You’re nothing.”

The
lights in his eyes burst into flame. Her head snapped to the side. The metallic
taste of blood filled her mouth, and the right side of her face exploded in
pain. It took her a good fifteen seconds to gather her addled wits and figure
out what had happened. He’d hit her. The bastard had hit her. Through the
buzzing in her brain, she heard a cry of rage. The roar swelled and grew,
reverberating with anger, taking shape. Her name.

Allie!

Caleb.
He was still alive. She shook her head to clear it of the buzzing. She glared
up at Vincent. Wiping the blood off her cheek with her shoulder, feeling it
smear more than absorb on the waterproof coat. She got to her feet. “And of
course, that was a display of your superior intellect.”

“Shut
up.”

Damn,
she needed to shut up, but she couldn’t. Shutting up meant giving up, and she
wasn’t going there. “You’re just another egomaniac throwing a tantrum when the
world sees him for what he is.”

“Bitch.”

“Well,
duh!” She arched her eyebrows in her best Caleb imitation. “I’ve even got the
T-shirt to prove it.”

He
leaned in, his face taking on that half-morphed vampire state she just hated.
His lips thinned, parted. She caught the gleam of his fangs.

“I
think I’ll let your lover—”

“Husband.”

He
kept right on going, as if she hadn’t interrupted. “Watch as I drink from you.”

She
leaned back as those teeth closed the distance between them. She turned her
head aside. His breath hit her cheek.

“He’s
not into the whole threesome thing.”

“I
imagine he’ll quite hate it.”

He
cut the tiny distance between them by half. She pulled as hard as she could,
everything in her rebelling at the thought of any man but Caleb taking her
blood. But especially this man. Desperation had her grasping at straws. “I
thought you said you wanted him to watch.”

“He
is.”

Mentally,
he meant mentally. Did that mean the barriers were down? She called to Caleb.
Nothing.

“Do
you want to talk to him?” The words were a fetid breath against her skin. “I
don’t mind letting him hear you scream this time.” He pulled her hands up,
lifting her into the press of his tongue. Revulsion tore through her as he
lapped at the corner of her mouth. “I enjoy it when a woman screams.”

She
didn’t want to give him his wish, but the minute his mouth touched hers, the
scream wrenched from her soul, a bone-deep protest. A totally unfair plea. For
Caleb. To help her.

Caleb’s
snarl wound through her soul, his anger bled into hers, and in the middle, a
strange flicker of energy, foreign and foul. Vincent. The doorway through which
all this was happening. She clamped down on her bile. Focus. She needed to
focus. She needed to remember this path. And hell, she also needed to shield.
None of which were possible as Vincent pried her jaws apart with a squeeze of
his fingers and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She couldn’t bite, would not
scream, and couldn’t make him stop. There was only one thing left to do.

She
vomited.

VINCENT
flung her away. She spun and fell, his curses ringing in her ears. She stumbled
down one step, caught herself on the railing, and continued to vomit. From the
corner of her eye, she could see Vincent scrubbing at his mouth, a look of
utter revulsion on his face.

That
would teach him to attack a woman with a weak stomach. After the next violent
heave, she probed for Caleb. Nothing. All she could feel was Vincent’s total
vulgarity that she’d vomited into his mouth. He was projecting so hard, she
retched again in sympathy.

Projecting
.