Single White Vampire (18 page)

Why had she thought otherwise? And when had it started to mean so much?

Kate sighed unhappily as they entered their suite. It was rather disheartening to be nothing but a snack.

“Sleep well.” Lucern gave her a gentle push toward her bedroom door, and Kate went without comment. She managed to murmur good night before slipping inside, but that was just for pride's sake. Her shoulders slumped, her heart sore as she began to undress.

 

Lucern watched the door close behind Kate and frowned to himself. The woman worked too hard, ate too little, and was killing herself to keep everyone happy—including himself. She needed rest. She needed to eat more. And, above all, she needed to relax. He could think of many ways to help her do that. Unfortunately, most involved both of them naked, and he wasn't at all sure she would welcome that now that she knew the truth about him. It had been his experience that most women were repulsed by his being a vampire. Kate certainly wasn't the first woman who had learned his secret over the years, and he had found, more often than not, they became afraid of him upon learning the truth. To keep himself and his family safe, he had often had to exert himself to veil their memories, or persuade them the revelation was just a dream.

Kate hadn't appeared frightened, though. She'd seemed to look at his vampirism as just a problem. Luc was a vampire, but he was also one of her most successful writers, and he needed blood. She had had to find him some. She had even been willing to indulge in intimacies in the men's washroom to accommodate him. Other than that, however, she had shown no sign of interest.

He recalled, his first night here and the first morning, when they had found themselves in passionate circumstances. But that had been before Kate knew he was a vampire. She might very well find him repulsive now.

Suddenly aware of tension in his neck and shoulders, Lucern removed his leather jacket and tossed it over a chair. He rotated first one shoulder then the other, then
his head as well, trying to ease the muscles there. It was Kate's doing. He wished he knew what she was thinking and where she stood on the matter. He wanted her to want him. He wanted her. He grimaced. It was a foolish want. Kate was a modern woman with career aspirations and a life and home in New York. She had left life in sleepy Nebraska to pursue a job in the publishing industry. She would hardly give that up to move to Canada to carry out an affair—and Lucern didn't know her well enough to be sure he wanted a life with her. For the average human, a bad marriage was only a forty-or fifty-year sentence; it could be much much longer for him.

His gaze slid to the small bar in the corner, and he considered a Scotch before bed. He decided against it. He wasn't much of a drinker and didn't want to start relying on it. Alchohol had done serious damage to his father, Claude, even killing him in the end.

Shrugging, he decided he might as well go to sleep.

The first thing that struck him when he entered his room was the sweet smell of blood heavy in the air. Then he realized that the bedside lamp was on, and he stiffened. He had turned the light out before leaving for the ball. It was now on. His body began to pump adrenaline even as his gaze swept the room.

The partially open fridge door, and the slashed bags of blood lying before it, explained the scent in the air. Other than that, nothing seemed disturbed. There didn't appear to be anyone around. Of course, the scent of blood was so thick, his usual ability to sense anyone nearby was hampered.

He took a step toward his looted blood supply, in
tending to see if anything was salvageable. But even as he did, he heard the whisper of the bedroom door swinging closed behind him. He whirled just in time to feel the stake slamming into his chest.

 

Kate had removed her clothes and was debating whether to shower or simply go to bed when she heard a crash. She paused, her head tilting as she listened. When something slammed hard into the wall separating her room from Luc's, she snatched for her robe, dragged it on, and tied the sash as she ran into the living room.

The door to Lucern's room was closed. Kate didn't bother to knock, but thrust it open and rushed inside. She nearly crashed into two men locked in combat. At first, all she saw were the two men grappling with each other; then she noticed the stake, its tip buried in Lucern's chest and blood seeping out. She shrieked in horror, though she didn't know it. She heard the yell as a distant sound.

At last, breaking out of her shock-induced paralysis, she glanced wildly around. The only weapon she could see were the bedside lamps. She ran to grab one, cursing when the damned thing didn't move. It was fastened to the bedside table. Her gaze shot back to Lucern and his assailant. There was more blood, and it seemed to her the stake had gone deeper. Lucern appeared to be weakening. Yet there wasn't a single damned thing around to use as a weapon. Desperate, she grabbed a pillow and ran over, batting at the stranger, then slamming the pillow into his head and
shoulders. Her attack had little effect on the man. He didn't even glance around.

Letting loose a howl of rage as her gaze shifted to Lucern's pale face, Kate caught the pillow at each end and swung it over the attacker's head and slammed it into his face. Pulling it tight, she proceeded to try to climb the fellow's back. Much to her relief, he released Lucern and stumbled backward, trying to grab wildly at her. She managed to avoid his flailing hands, and held on to the pillow with all her might. He couldn't possibly breathe like this, and she was praying he would pass out before he managed to get her.

She released an “oomph,” but managed to stay on his back as he staggered back into the wall next to the closet. Kate held on, knowing both she and Luc were lost if she didn't.

Kate glanced desperately at Lucern. He was on his knees by the bed, his hands weakly gripping the stake in his chest. She recalled him saying that a stake would kill him if left in too long, and she knew she had to get to him fast. Her thoughts were scattered as the man she was riding slammed backward again, this time propelling them into the closet. Kate grunted as her head slammed into the clothing rod.

The pain was like an explosion inside her head, blinding her with searing white flashes behind her eyes. She wanted to grab her head and hold it in her hands until the agony passed, but she couldn't let go of the pillow and so hung there blind and in agony, clinging to consciousness by a thread.

When the pain finally began to wane, Kate wasn't sure how much time had passed. It took a moment be
fore she realized her view had changed. She was lower to the ground. She turned her attention to the man she clung to, and she saw that he had sunk to his knees, taking her with him. She let her feet drop to the floor, her gaze returning to Lucern. Alarm again coursed through her. He was slumped forward, his head down. Realizing that she couldn't wait any longer for her assailant to pass out from lack of oxygen, she released one end of the pillow to search around the floor of the closet.

She tried to keep the pillow in place over the man's face with her one hand, but she was aware she was failing. She heard him taking great gasps of air, and she knew it wouldn't take long for him to recoup enough to become a serious threat again. That thought had barely managed to panic her when Kate's searching hand bumped something. She snatched it up, recognizing it for a shoe, and without a thought slammed it down on her attacker's head. He didn't immediately fall forward under the blow, and she realized she was holding the shoe by the heel. She gave up on holding the pillow in place, turned the shoe around and this time slammed the heel down on the back of her enemy's skull with all the strength she could muster.

Much to her satisfaction, the blow worked—the man fell soundlessly forward on his face. Leaving him where he lay, Kate struggled to her feet and stumbled over to Lucern.

The first thing she did was grab him by the shoulders and urge him up. He fell onto his back without a sound. His head slammed against the floor, hard, and his knees
bent, his lower legs caught under him. Kate peered at him unhappily. He was gray. She had never seen him this color. But there wasn't much blood lost that she could tell. The stake still protruded from his chest, allowing only a bit of seepage. But she recalled his saying the heart couldn't pump with a stake there, and she knew that if she didn't remove it, he would die.

The stake was made of the light wood usually found at do-it-yourself places, and it looked like a dowel or something. Lucern's attacker had bought and sharpened a dowel to a point so that he could stake Lucern. Now she would have to unstake him or he would die.

She didn't waste time thinking about what she was doing; she knew that every second counted. Reaching out, she grabbed the dowel firmly and pulled it free—which wasn't as easy as she'd expected. She hadn't really thought about it, but if she had, Kate supposed she would have expected it to pull free like a knife from butter. Lucern's body wasn't butter. There was some resistance to the removal, and she had to exert some strength. The sloppy squelching sound as she removed it made what little food she'd managed to down at supper threaten to make an encore appearance.

Kate swallowed determinedly. Tossing the stake aside, she quickly covered the wound in Lucern's chest as blood began to pour out in great gushes. She applied pressure in an effort to keep him from bleeding to death, praying all the while that his blood would repair the damage. As she sat there, she wondered if she was really helping to save him or killing him.

She sat like that for several minutes, just pressing
down on his chest, until a moan from Lucern's attacker warned that he was coming around. She felt torn between staying to hold in Lucern's blood, or somehow incapacitating the man again. It seemed to her that if the man came around, she and Luc would probably both be dead. Surely he would finish Lucern off, then kill her as a witness. On the other hand, she would risk Lucern's bleeding to death if she left him.

Her gaze slid back to Lucern's face and she hesitated, then cautiously removed her hands from his chest. Much to her relief, blood didn't come gushing out as before. His body was repairing itself. She hoped so, or he was dead.

Banishing that thought, Kate got to her feet and peered around the room for something to tie up their enemy. She spotted the black backpack with all the burglary paraphernalia, and relief soaked through her. She had handed it to Lucern to take the blood with him and never bothered to ask for it back. Hurrying to it, she found the rope, but tossed that aside and snatched up the duct tape and the knife instead. She wasn't very good with knots. Besides, she suspected the tape would be harder for the man to get free.

Another groan from her attacker made Kate rush to his side. She pulled his hands behind his back and quickly began wrapping tape around his wrists, running the roll between his lower arms and hands for good measure. Once satisfied that he couldn't free himself, she moved to his feet and bound his ankles the same way. Then she rolled him onto his back so that he lay on his bound hands, and began to wrap tape over his
mouth and around his head. It would be a bitch to get the tape off his hair, but she didn't care. He deserved that and more.

Kate was just finishing when the attacker's eyes suddenly blinked open. She gave a start as he jerked, trying to break free. Hatred blazed from his eyes. She met his gaze for a moment, then finished with the tape, ignoring his useless struggles.

Had Lucern been a normal man, she would have called the police. But Lucern wasn't a normal man. How could she explain the situation? Kate's gaze swept the room, falling on the partially open fridge door and the slashed bags of blood. She couldn't explain any of this to the police. No, she was on her own.

Pushing herself to her feet, Kate moved almost reluctantly back to Lucern's side. Then she hesitated, unsure what to do. There still didn't appear to be a great deal of blood loss. On the other hand, she suspected it would probably take a lot of blood to repair the damage done to Lucern. He would need blood.

Her eyes went to his mouth. He didn't seem to be breathing, let alone in any shape to drink from her. On the other hand, she saw that the wound in his chest was not gushing. It wasn't bleeding at all. If anything, she was sure the hole was smaller and there was less blood present.

Kate recalled that Lucern had said that something in his blood used blood to repair injuries. Was it using that blood even now? Could it repair him and keep him alive…if he was still alive.

Kate leaned forward and grabbed the ragged edges
of Luc's T-shirt where the stake had torn it. She rent it open, pulling one long strip of cloth free. Setting it on the floor next to her, she shifted her head over Luc's chest for a closer look at his wound. Yes, there was definitely less blood. Surely, that was a sign he still lived?

Biting her lip, she glanced down at the knife in her hand. He couldn't feed off her. But could she feed him?

Acting before she could think about it and change her mind, Kate slashed her wrist, then she held it over his wound, allowing her blood to drip freely into it. She stayed like that, stopping only when she started to feel a little lightheaded. Then she quickly grabbed the slip of T-shirt she had ripped free. Using that, she tightly bandaged her wrist. It was an awkward procedure, but she managed.

At last, Kate sat back and cast a glance at the man who had attacked Lucern. He was where she had left him, still tightly trussed. If he had fought the binding, it was holding fast. Noting that with relief, she turned her attention back to Lucern. His eyes were still closed, his face pale and still. He didn't open his eyes or smile at her as she had hoped. The wound wasn't closing miraculously. It wasn't anything like the movies. She wished it were.

Kate resolved herself to a long vigil. She wasn't at all sure he would open those silver eyes again, but she wasn't going to give up either.