sanguineangels (11 page)

The grotesque picture was nauseating, but Diego had battled too many times with the Brethren since his turning and before as a seasoned warrior, a guardsman and swordsman, to let it show on his face. Weakness could be exploited, by all and anyone. Trevayne’s head hung limply as he screamed in pain and fury. His glaring eyes filled with infuriated sparks as he hissed with rage. When he tried to speak a command in retribution, Diego silenced him with a single word. Age was not always bad, he thought with a wry mental sigh.

“I warned you,” Diego told Trevayne in a cool tone, nothing about his stance changing. He knew his own ability. He also had the wisdom of age. Trevayne was impetuous, bloated with his own prowess. “Leave before I kill you for trespassing on my grounds.” Trevayne’s snarl deepened. “Anywhere I choose it to be,” Diego told him with a narrowed gaze. “I do not want to kill you. Hunt elsewhere tonight. Come back tomorrow. For tonight, this is my territory.”

Loose jaws snapped. Diego waited, tensed, watching. He was not disappointed. The Brethren were vampires with a one-track-mind mentality.

Trevayne charged, a lopsided attack with his loose head hanging absurdly as he tried to shape-shift to make a stronger attack. It was a pointless maneuver, and his last. Claws as sharp as knives arced in a smooth, well-practiced motion, slicing through skin and bone with his own momentum as Trevayne flew past. His dying scream evaporated in his throat.

“I tried to let you go,” Diego told him as Trevayne crumpled, his head hanging by tendons, all but completely severed. Pale skin began to disintegrate almost immediately with any sign of life gone. Diego created a ball of blazing heat in the palm of his hand, something he did not like to do. It took energy and drew attention to himself if Brethren were close by. He hoped Trevayne had been the only one in the area.

The flaring heat encircled the dead creature on the tarred rooftop, obliterating his entire form in seconds. Proof of their existence was not something Diego wanted to ever be accused of leaving. The Brethren had their rules, sloppy as they were. He had his own rules. If he was killed in battle, he could accept that. Death by discovery and dissection did not appeal in the least.

He shook his hair loose, wiping a hand down his face, disgusted at the mess he found. The roof was at least spotless again, no signs of Trevayne or what happened anywhere. Diego did have to admit there were certain benefits to being what he was. He could use his own abilities to take care of certain matters, like cleaning away blood spatters. A tight grimace proved it was a less than wanted benefit.

Once the last vestiges were destroyed, he retraced his path cautiously through the maze of halls and vents, listening for others, scanning thoroughly. He relaxed when it appeared that Trevayne had indeed been hunting alone. There had been no alarm raised for the young woman’s attack either, noting the ambulance taking her away. That could have been a hellish nightmare. He had avoided just what Trevayne had hoped to accomplish: mass chaos and hysteria.

Diego reclaimed his position in the shadows. Titania’s depth of concern was carried by a touch of fear, and he sought to reassure her immediately.

“Do not worry,
cara. All is well.”

“What happened?”

“There was a problem. It has been resolved. Do not worry over it. Please sing,
cara
.
You sound beautiful tonight.”

She scowled at him briefly, then resumed her stroll across the stage. He knew the reprieve would only last until the end of her concert. Hopefully, by then he would have an answer.

Diego applauded when she finished her encore. The nearer she came after the lights went dark, the more he realized everything was not right. She was very pale, and even though she was happy, she teetered on outright exhaustion. He had never sensed it at all. She had purposely kept it hidden from him. Guilt shadowed her thoughts while he took in every single detail about her.

He looped an arm around her waist, bracing her weight without effort. “You did not eat again. If you say one word, I will carry you back in my arms.”

“I can’t eat. I try.” Her voice was tired, thready, no longer filled with the energy that was Titania.

Diego’s brow furrowed. What was wrong? What was causing this? He could hear the others and the rest of the crew slowly making their way from the stage, following into the halls of the stadium.

“
Cara
,” he admonished with a tender squeeze. “You have to take care of yourself. You work hard for hours. You have to eat.”

Had he taken too much blood last night? Had his insatiable hungers done this? He led her into her dressing room and promptly eased her into a chair. He knelt before her and slipped off her shoes. She moaned in contentment.

“I’ll keep you just for that.” She stretched languidly when he began to ease her tiredness. “Heels are a nightmare.”

He massaged her calves and her feet with sure, strong fingers. She had delicate, soft skin everywhere. He even liked the sexy little arch of her foot.

“How long has it been, exactly, since you last ate?” he asked while trying to hide his real fears.

She dropped her head to rest, breathing deeply. “I don’t know. Since Thomas’s attack? Maybe? Maybe he did something when he pummeled the crap out of my stomach.”

Alarm slammed into him.
That happened days ago.
“No, honey. I made sure you were whole.”

“What happened during the concert? I know I heard a scream in my mind.” Her anxiety for what happened was mellowed from his massage.

She must have been aware of what he had seen even as hard as he tried to keep the walls strong between them. That worried him almost as much as her not being able to eat, but her question hung in the silence waiting for an answer. He took a minute to build an explanation so as to not upset her. “A woman was hurt. She was taken to the hospital and will be released.”

Titania straightened on her seat, studying him with monumental effort. “Attacked? Like me? Is she all right?”

“She will be fine.” He continued to rub her legs, hoping she would dismiss it. People had problems at concerts everywhere.

She rested a hand on his leather-clad shoulder. “Diego. Tell me.”

He paused, then rested on his haunches. “She was attacked and suffered an injury, but she will be fine.”

“And her attacker?”

“He was dealt with,” he replied, his tone revealing nothing. “He will not harm anyone again.”

“Thank you, Diego.”

“I protect you. Period.”

She laughed a light, airy sound. “You sound so formal when you say it. I hope I’m not too much of a chore.”

“A challenge, perhaps. Never a chore.” His grin matched hers while a searing knife began to slowly shred his stomach, all of it hidden behind the show of relaxed conversation.

Centuries had passed since Diego’s conversion. He had forgotten certain details. Like the inability to eat. He had been careful to only give her a few drops. He was certain of it. Thinking about it now, he was positive that one sharing was what had created the mental path between them. Yet, would it have been enough to harm her? To inhibit her own ability to eat?

Guilt choked him. What had he done? Had he doomed her after all? Was it possible? Could he have given her too much? With that thought struck a new one.

Had he done it on purpose?

Diego kept his head bowed in shame. He knew in his heart it was possible. To cure his loneliness with her vitality, to remain forever enraptured in her beauty. Feeling her against his palm, he became swept away by self-loathing and emotions that were crushing at that moment.

For a man who had lived by his honor and honed his control to the slightest detail, his greatest mistake of all could be dying before his eyes.

Titania’s lashes felt heavy. Her entire body felt leaden. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Had it really been that long? Her hours were so unorganized that she rarely thought much about it. She was used to eating when she was hungry, but lately she hadn’t been. No wonder she was exhausted. Diego was right. She needed to eat, regardless.

Either that or go see a doctor. She shook her head once, rolling it silently. No, no doctor. She hated needles. They always wanted to take blood. She hated that. She would like to keep the pints she had, thank you very much.

She groaned softly when Diego found a particularly tender spot on her foot. The man just earned himself a raise. No one ever gave her a foot rub.

“God, that feels incredible,” she managed. She raised her head. He was bowed in front of her, thinking, absorbed. She touched his hair. “Diego, where are you?” Her fingers curled into his thick mane as he looked up.

“Right here,
cara
.”

Her stomach liquefied at the rumble of his voice. “No, you were far away. Where were you?”

“Remembering.” His lips lifted in a sexy way, a faraway glint in his gaze. “A long time ago.”

Her gaze floated over his features. “I’m turning into a melted puddle of goo,” she told him on a contented sigh.

His features relaxed, the harsh cut of his mouth disappearing. “That was the aim,” he replied, chuckling with a knowing smile.

Her hand drifted to his lips, touching them with a fingertip. She admitted it to herself. She loved his mouth. Loved the way he could make her feel. Loved his kisses. The man had the sexiest mouth on the planet.

She watched, enthralled, as he parted those lips and gently lapped her finger into his mouth. Her breathing hitched, feeling the damp heat, the strong swirl of his tongue over skin. Lashes fluttered when he suckled on her finger, drawing her deeper.

“You taste like heaven,” he whispered when he let her go. “Everywhere.”

She groaned when the only thing she could think of was his kiss. She needed his kiss again.

“
Cara
,” he said, his voice so rough it slid down her spine like lava, dragging sparks in its wake. “
Cara
, you cannot look at me like that.”

“Like what?” She found his gaze, bright winter-gray. She could swear she saw lightning deep inside those compelling eyes.

“So innocent, so sexy,” he told her, rising to his feet before her. His hands were gentle, pulling her into his body. “You look at me, your eyes are so deep, and I know I have to kiss you again. Just tell me no,
cara
. Help me,” he pleaded, lowering his lips to hers. “Because I know I cannot fight this. Not any longer.” A primal hunger vibrated in the air around them.

Her hands trailed up his arms, found the ends of his hair, and twisted it through seeking fingers. Titania didn’t know if he held her up or if she was even standing on her own feet. It ceased to matter. “Kiss me, Diego.”

Heat coiled at the first tender brush of skin. His arms locked around her, immovable bands of iron. His lips burned. She had lost touch with anything beyond the feel of him and where he pressed into her.

The length of his solid body formed to hers, and every inch screamed for more. Molten heat filled her as flames licked hungrily beneath skin. His mouth held her as captive as his arms.

She whimpered once and his tongue took over, mating, devouring. He nibbled and nipped at the softness of her lips. Stars exploded in her vision with each heated meeting of skin. His hands moved, cradling her as he possessed her, fingers finding the wealth of her hair, gripping the fullness tenderly.

He traveled to the corner of her mouth, paying special attention to the edge of her jaw. Her head fell back without reservation, her entire body igniting under his touch. Heat grew and spread. Need was rising. Something wild called to her, his whispered voice the beacon to her passion-filled mind.

Diego’s mouth made a damp, heated trail, his teeth scraping, returning with his lips, coursing shocks throughout her body. She moaned when the sinful feel of his teeth raked nerves beneath sensitive skin.

He groaned, whispering dark words of passion, Spanish love words that barely filtered through the ecstasy of his caresses. He laved her pulse with his tongue, and liquid heat filled every pore. She shuddered as sensations bombarded her.

Diego stiffened in her arms, a low growl of anger rumbling from his chest, then he grew silent on the next heartbeat. He changed positions, cradling her. “We are about to have company,” he explained, his voice tight, his body tighter. He pressed his cheek into her hair, both trying to step away from the edge they teetered on.

“This can’t keep happening,” she whispered into his chest. Her body was on fire, needing. “I lose control whenever you kiss me. Your mouth should be outlawed.”

His chuckle was low, rife with masculine assurance. “I knew you liked my mouth.” He guided her to sit in her chair once more. “You need to change,
cara
, then eat.”

A knock on her door echoed in the room and Houston popped in, Laney trailing after. Diego stood against a far wall, his arms crossed when she found herself in her chair.
How did he do that?
Wasn’t I just in his arms?
She ached in places that told her she had been, but she couldn’t remember sitting down.

“Does he have to be with you constantly?” Houston barked when he spotted Diego.

She scooped her hair away from her neck, still feeling flashes of heat from his kiss. The man should be outlawed, definitely. “We were talking, Houston. I was going to change when you knocked.” Houston kept Laney to his far side, an arm around her. Protectively. What was it about Diego that drove Houston up a wall?

“Well, he can wait outside while you change.”

Her arms fell to her sides in exasperation at his superior tone. “Really? He can? Is it all right with you if I do change, Houston?” She stood from her chair, refusing to acknowledge the slight tremble in her legs. She locked her knees, ignoring how tired she really felt. “Because the last time I checked, I didn’t need someone’s permission to put on jeans!”

“Tani,” he said, his eyes widening with hurt.

She refused to acknowledge the wounded look. “I’m tired of everyone acting like I’m three years old. Christ, I know I’m different. You never let me forget. Everyone wants to put me on a shelf, and I’m tired of it. David’s been watching me hard for days. Justin looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. You won’t even let Laney talk to me anymore.” She blinked, keeping the building tears at bay. Her night had been a rollercoaster of emotions since she’d awakened in the hotel and there wasn’t more she could take. “Just get out. Go away. Take Laney out and be normal. Lord knows you can’t with me.”

“Tani, that isn’t true.” Houston tried to defend himself.

“It’s not?” she shot back, her hands fisting. “You have known me for years, Houston, but for days, you’ve been treating me like a second-class citizen. I’m sorry, and you know what? I don’t have a single clue why I’m apologizing.” She crossed her arms, waiting for his explanation, and doubting she was going to agree or like it.

“You know why,” he told her through a tight jaw. “So don’t get all bitchy at me.”

“So you can’t trust my judgment either, and I thought you were my best friend.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “You know I am your best friend, but damn it, Tani.” Houston’s gaze was beseeching, a shadow of hurt still lurking. “You allowed him into your life. I promised your mother I would keep you safe, and you did this.”

“I did something good for him, and he is helping to protect me from the one I ticked off. Gee, why does that sound so bad?” Her lips curled in sarcastic derision, her arms holding her together.

“It’s more than that, and you know it.” Houston purposely looked over at the relaxed figure leaning against the wall. “I’ve never heard of one like him acting like this. Attachment isn’t exactly your style.”

Diego shrugged, having witnessed the entire argument. “I am different, but she is safe. With me and from me.”

“Can you promise me that, Diego?” Houston faced him fully, confronting him.

Diego cleared the small dressing room to stand right behind Titania, his body posture protective where he stood with her. He placed a firm but gentle hand at her waist, his arm hooked around her. She wanted to lean into his solid strength immediately but forced her legs to hold her up. She was not a weak woman.

“She is the safest woman, or person…” Diego drawled with meaning, staring nearly eye to eye with Houston, “in this room right now. She is in danger, and I intend to keep her safe. Brakka is not the only one interested in finding her. There is another in this city who has targeted your entire band.”

Houston snorted. “How do you know that?”

“I discovered them when I first arrived, and felt the twisted intentions again during the concert, but could not locate the source. There were problems during the concert that had to be dealt with.”

Laney shivered. “See? I told you,” she said quietly. “I didn’t imagine it.”

Titania was surprised to hear her sounding almost accusing. Houston had never dismissed her talents.

Titania caught Diego’s attention switch to Laney. She kept her gaze averted.

“A woman was attacked,” Titania explained. “Diego took care of the man responsible.”

Houston scowled straight at Diego. “Like you?”

“Yes. He has been…dispatched.”

Titania almost shuddered at the cold flatness in his words.

“Look, I want to change, and I can’t with an audience.” Titania also wanted to sit down for a few minutes.

Diego dipped his head, murmuring into her ear. “Breathe,
cara
. I will be right outside.”
“
I will know if you need me,”
whispered through her mind, followed by a gentle caress of his thumb against her neck in comfort.

Houston waited, letting Diego walk out of the dressing room first, and she sank into her chair when the door closed behind them all. This was getting more confusing by the moment. Even Laney was avoiding her now, but at least Houston and Diego had talked. She just didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Her head sagged to rest on the chair while she tugged briefly on her bottom lip with her teeth in frustration. Why would Houston be convinced she was in danger from Diego? She knew Diego wouldn’t hurt her. She stared at the ceiling, her arms crossed limply across her middle. Why did Houston distrust Diego so much?

“Because he knows I can hurt you, deeply. He knows the type of man that I am, and he fears for you.”

“Just what kind of man are you?”
She let her eyes drift shut, unable to fight it, gathering the energy to change.

“I am ruthless, relentless. He called me a killer. He is correct.”
There was no regret in Diego’s voice. It was a fact, nothing more.
“
I have killed, and I would do so again if it meant protecting you.”

She pulled herself out of the chair, letting the gown she wore fall into a puddle at her feet. She slipped it onto its hanger for wardrobe and found her jeans and a blouse. “I knew you were dangerous. I’ve known that since the night I broke up the fight. Does he really think I am that clueless?” She was annoyed again as she searched for her sandals.

“No, honey. He knows what I am. That makes all the difference.”
His voice was low, soothing.

She froze, positive he let something slip unintentionally. What was she missing? “What are you?” she asked cautiously.