Her Devoted Vampire (14 page)

 
The wolves shot past him toward the river as
he raced back to the house to get his weapons, his mind churning with rage. Szilvia
had gone too far this time. Her jealousy had caused her to target any female to
whom he showed kindness, but attacking Bridget in his home, where she’d been
assured safety, incinerated his sympathy to ashes.

He
charged out the door in time to see Bridget bolt into the cleared part of the
estate. Szilvia streaked from the trees and pounced on Bridget, slamming her to
the ground in a blur of motion. The white vampire flipped his Goddess-born over
and struck. Bridget screamed, and Fredrick’s blood boiled.

When
Cynthia’s wolf form dragged the vampire off, Bridget made a strangled sound of
pain before lying still in the dead grass of the yard, and the scent of hot,
fresh blood perfumed the night air. The scent spurred him into motion, and he
skidded to a halt beside his beloved as fear stripped his heart bare. Bridget
lay so still and pale with her hand against her neck, and guilt brought truth
to the forefront of Fredrick’s mind.

She only became endangered when you brought her here,
you dumbass!

Grief
and fear exploded in a roar as he launched himself into the fray.

He waded
in with his blades flashing in a shining blur eclipsed only by his fury. The werewolves
miraculously avoided the silver death. He aimed all his attention on disabling
Szilvia. Anger solidified into a cold lump in his gut, and he drove one blade
through her hand, pinning her to the ground. She shrieked and struck at him
with her free hand, but Fredrick whirled and thrust the second sword into her
opposite shoulder with all his strength. Szilvia slammed into hard earth and squawked
with outrage, her gaze locking onto his.

Hurt confusion
filtered into her expression. “What are you doing, Fredrick?”

It took
all his effort to form coherent words around his bared teeth. “What are
you
doing, Szilvia? Why did you attack
my guest?”

“The She-Meal?
She was trying to escape. I stopped her for you. Besides, she’s only human. What
does she really matter?”

“She is
my soul mate, my true love, the woman of my dreams, pick your metaphor.” Fatigue
dragged at him with each moment that Bridget’s life seeped away into the cold
earth, but he renewed his focus on the vampire in front of him. He no longer
recognized her. She’d become nothing more than a monster to him. “You have
broken the codes of hospitality on my own grounds by attacking my guest.”

Szilvia
snorted. “She is only a weak mortal, Fredrick! She cannot be important to you. Think
of what we have shared over the centuries. She won’t even make it a handful of
years. She won’t love you the way I do. Fredrick, think!”

Anger
thickened into hard steel around his heart with each insult Szilvia spat, and
icy calm enveloped his body. “I will never love you the way I love her.”

Szilvia’s
eyes widened once more just before they narrowed with a deep-seated hatred. “She
has blinded and deceived you, Fredrick. She is nothing more than a blood bank,
and I’ll show you!”

She
thrust herself upward, jerking the short sword in her shoulder out of the
ground, then yanked the other sword out of her hand. Snarling with her fury,
she shot toward the woman lying on the ground behind him with a burst of her
fetid hunting scent.

Fredrick
didn’t think; he only moved. His hands shot out for the discarded swords in the
frozen grass, and he rolled over the top of them, surging to his feet with them
gripped in his fists. He twisted his body toward the fleeing vampire, but even
with his great speed, he was too slow. A dark, furred shape sprang at Szilvia’s
ankles, distracting her from her prey.

Thank the Goddess for Matt!

Szilvia
snarled and danced sideways to avoid the wolf, but Fredrick got in her way; and
she turned her fury on him. She whirled and slashed with her sharpened nails,
but he ducked and spun, reversing the sword in his left hand. He thrust it backward
into her body, the impact slamming her to a stop. She shrieked and dropped her
hands, her hunting scent dissipating into rancid confusion.

Without
releasing the blade, he continued to turn and shoved the second blade through
her heart above the first, his hand and hilt pressed against one small breast.

She
stared at him with shock and sank to her knees. Fredrick followed her down, his
glare as heavy as the knives in her chest. He lifted his chin as he grasped the
two blades and jerked them out of her torso, the rotting flesh scent pulled
from her with the steel. Before she could stand, he slashed the blades
cross-wise to sever her head from her shoulders. The white blond head fell and
bounced awkwardly in the dead grass as he spun to return to Bridget’s side.

Fredrick
almost tripped over her as the scent of fresh blood and decaying autumn leaves
gagged him. He dropped to his knees and set the short swords on the ground,
grateful he’d stopped the crazed white monster before she did more damage. Fatigue
swamped him, and he swayed over Bridget as her life blood slipped away.
Dizziness assailed him, and his vision swam; but he gritted his teeth and
forced himself to focus on his lady.

“Dear
Goddess,” he moaned as he touched the wet place on Bridget’s throat.

Szilvia
had ripped open a chunk of flesh to make her bleed out before anyone could get
to her.

“You
stupid, jealous bitch,” he growled as hopelessness swamped him.

A canine
whine made him turn to look into the amber eyes of Cynthia. She flattened her
ears and dipped her head, tipping it to one side in question.

She
asked if he could save Bridget, and he almost shook his own head, but some part
of him refused to give up. Pushing the encroaching blackness away, he inhaled
deeply and grasped Bridget’s shoulders.

“Bridget
Erin Diana Shanahan, I call upon you to return to this body. I call upon you as
your bound servant and true friend, as the Goddess-blessed attendant to your
needs. Take what you need from me. I give it freely in the name of the Holy
Goddess.”
 
Then he pressed her right hand
against his chest.

Nothing
happened.

Panic
crawled up his throat from his belly, and tears started in his eyes.

“Oh,
please, my lady Bridget. Please, come back to me. I beg of you.”

 
Subtle light began to filter out from between
her fingers against his chest, growing brighter and brighter until a small sun glowed
on the grounds of his home. Power, raw and primeval, rose up through him from
the ground and flowed in from the connection of her hand on his chest. It swept
him along with its heat and electricity, ripping an orgasmic groan from his
chest. He couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in his ears. He couldn’t even
smell the blood soaking the earth beneath Bridget’s body. All his senses succumbed
to the power and energy of the Earth Goddess surging through him.

Time had
no meaning, but when the energy ceased, he collapsed on the ground next to the
Goddess-born with a tired grunt. His ears rang, and his vision faded in and out
as exhaustion swallowed him. He hoped he’d been in time to perform his duty to
the one woman who held more than just his soul.

The
wolves whined questions at him in their own language, but he didn’t have the
strength to reassure them as his addled mind picked up a new voice, calling his
name and asking him if he was all right. He opened his eyes to Bridget’s
distraught face, and relief burned like a candle in the darkness.

Thank the Goddess she’s safe now
. He offered her a watery smile and sank into the blackness that
came to claim him.

Chapter Eight

“Fredrick!”

Bridget’s
shriek mixed with the whines of the dogs, and she grasped his face, willing him
to open his eyes again.

“Don’t
you leave me here to figure this all out on my own!” she shouted, trying to
ignore his stillness.

One of
the dogs whined in her ear and leaned against her shoulder, ears flattened and
tail down.

“I don’t
know what to do,” Bridget moaned. “Why is he lying on the ground? What
happened?”

The
black dog whined again and nosed her arm, pawing at Fredrick.

“I don’t
understand.”

The dog
whuffed a sigh and backed away, wearing an expression of resignation. Bridget
frowned as energy shimmered around the black form, morphing and shifting until
a tall woman with black hair and amber eyes stood in the dog’s place.

Where do the clothes go when she’s a wolf?

“Is he
still alive?” Cynthia asked as she dropped to the ground beside them.

“What?
Oh!” Bridget forced herself to look down at Fredrick’s pale face. “I don’t
know.”

Cynthia
snorted with exasperation. “He’s your mate, isn’t he? Don’t you have a
connection where you can sense each other’s health?”

Bridget
blinked and shook her head, then remembered their mutual light display in the
house. Biting her bottom lip, she laid her right hand on his chest, and the
golden light from her palm flared up once again. She closed her eyes and fell
into him, sliding through the dark corridors of his body. Life energy flickered
within him, and she pushed some of hers back at him, willing him to take it. He
responded sluggishly, but some of his “lights” came back on; and she opened her
eyes.

“He’s still
alive, but his reserves are completely used up.”

“He must
have traded his life force for yours to save you,” Cynthia said matter-of-factly.
“Come on. Let’s get him back to the house so he can recover.”

“Will he
recover?”

Cynthia
barked, literally, orders at the other canines around her, and two of them
morphed into the men she’d seen in the kitchen the night before, while the rest
bolted back toward the house. The men carefully picked up Fredrick’s limp body
and carried it to the house. Cynthia gestured for Bridget to follow, and they
strode after the men.

“I think
he will,” Cynthia said, and Bridget had to remember what she was talking about.
“He needs to feed.”

“Feed?”

“He’s a
vampire, and he’s offered you his life force. The only way for him to recover
completely is to ingest blood.”

Her face
must have shown her horror because Cynthia rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry. One of my wolves will be happy to donate until he recovers enough
to talk to you about it.”

There is no way in hell I’m letting him feed from me!

She said
nothing as they returned to the house and settled Fredrick in his bed. She
watched one man nod at her respectfully, then look to Cynthia for permission
before he left the room. The other waited beside the bed.

“You may
not want to watch this,” Cynthia said gently, gesturing for the door.

“Watch
what?”

“Watch
Fredrick feed from Paul.”

Fear
made Bridget’s stomach pitch, but she swallowed hard and shook her head. “No,
it’s fine. I have to understand who I’m bound to.”

“Are you
sure, Bridget?” Cynthia cocked her head, her expression impassive.

“I’m
sure.”

“Okay,
then.”

Cynthia
gestured toward Paul, and the young man sat in a chair beside the bed, pulling
up his sleeve and pressing his wrist to Fredrick’s lips. Fredrick’s head turned
slowly, and his lips pulled back, revealing longer canines than she’d expected.
Then he struck lightning fast, and Paul grunted with pain.

“Are you
all right, Paul?” Cynthia asked intently.

“Yes,
Luna, he’s just a little more enthusiastic than usual.”

Bridget
swallowed back bile. “Does it hurt?”

“Not
usually,” Paul said. “He must be pretty out of it to forget to smooth out the
pain.”

“Smooth
out the pain?”

“That’s
enough, Paul,” Cynthia barked, and the younger man focused his gaze on the
vampire in the bed. “I’m sure Fredrick will explain it to you himself,
Bridget.”

“Right.”

“Why
don’t you go down to the kitchen and get something to eat?” Cynthia said,
gesturing toward the door. “I’m sure you’re exhausted and hungry, and no one
thinks clearly on an empty stomach. We’ll be down soon.”

Bridget tried
to protest, but the look Cynthia gave her was nothing short of determined; and
she didn’t have the energy to fight the Luna. Bridget nodded and retreated,
trying to understand the mixed emotions roaring through her. She wanted to be
at Fredrick’s side, but the idea of him sucking the plasma out of the young man
beside him gave her the willies. She didn’t know if she could eat after that,
but hoped the food would entice her away from her unsettling thoughts.

****

Bridget stared
out the window at a dreary late afternoon as she waited for Fredrick to wake up.
He’d fed well according to Cynthia, and though Paul had been a little pale, he
didn’t look much worse for wear when he’d come down to the kitchen the night
before. Bridget had asked if he was all right, and he’d waved her off with a
smile, but hadn’t said much as he tucked into a large meal.