Single White Vampire (19 page)

Weariness overtaking her, Kate shifted to lie beside him and rested her aching head on his uninjured shoulder. She lay there in silence for a moment, listening, but no heartbeat met her ears. The stake had stopped
his heart. She just wasn't sure if it had stopped it for good.

“Come back to me, Lucern,” she whispered, closing her eyes to shut out the light. “Please.”

Lucern woke with a gasp, his body sucking oxygen deep into his lungs and just as quickly forcing it out again. The sound of his heart was like a drum in his ringing ears, and his eyes saw only darkness. That darkness slowly gave way to blurred color. Lucern lay still for several moments as his body struggled to recover, knowing he had come close to death.

He slowly became aware of pressure on his shoulder, and he glanced down, relieved to find that his eyesight had returned. He was able to see the top of a head. He couldn't see the face, but he recognized Kate's honey-blond tresses and felt an odd warmth flow through him to know she was with him.

Letting his eyes drift closed, he took stock. There was no brain damage from what he could tell; his memory was intact. Kate had saved him. The idea was a bit mind-boggling. He was used to being the warrior, the savior, the hero. But Kate had been the hero today,
fending off his attacker with—of all things—a pillow.

He would have chuckled if he had the energy to do so. The woman had felled their attacker with a pillow, an attacker who had got the best of him. It really did boggle the mind. Her courage and cleverness were a formidable combination. He tried to lift his hand to caress the soft strands of her hair, wanting that further connection with her, but didn't yet have the strength.

Frustrated by his weakness and lack of control, Lucern forced himself to be patient. His body would be working like mad to send blood to repair his brain and vital organs first. Once they were in working order, the blood would concentrate on the rest of him. Then some of his strength would return.

As he lay there, he wondered about his attacker. Who was the man? It was a question he would like answered, but Lucern also wondered what had become of him. He could only assume that Kate had tended to the matter, or she surely wouldn't have fallen asleep on him. If she was asleep.

His eyes popped open again.

From prior experience with injuries, Lucern guessed that he had been unconscious for perhaps half an hour. It seemed a relatively short period of time for Kate to have handled their attacker, removed the stake from his chest and fallen asleep. This time, when he tried to move Lucern was able to raise his hand and rest it weakly against the side of her head.

Much to his relief, Kate murmured sleepily. She cuddled kittenlike against him, snuggling into his body. The action managed to relax Lucern. She was alive. Everything else could wait. He closed his eyes and fell into
a light rest as his body finished its repairs.

When next he opened his eyes, it was hunger urging him back. His strength hadn't fully returned—Lucern was still weak, comparatively speaking—but his weakness was equivalent to an average man's strength. Moving carefully, he shifted out from under Kate, easing her head to the floor before sitting up and peering around. He immediately spotted his attacker lying on the floor by the closet. The man was trussed like a turkey.

Luc's eyes went to the refrigerator and he noted the four slashed bags. He twitched with realization.
Four
bags. There had been eight left after his last feeding. Standing up, he moved to the refrigerator, pulled the door the rest of the way open and peered inside. A breath of relief slipped from his lips at the sight of four intact blood bags. He must have interrupted the fellow's work before the man got the chance to destroy the whole supply.

Lucern grabbed one of the pints and stabbed his teeth into it as he turned to survey the room. There would be a bit of work setting it to rights. He had to clean up the blood on the carpet and take care of the gentleman now imitating a bear rug on his floor.

He contemplated what to do with his assailant as he went through two more bags of blood. At last, he decided he would have to find out more before making a decision. He needed to know if this had been an attack on Luke Amirault the vampire author, or Lucern Argeneau the vampire. The difference could affect the safety of his family.

Lucern felt pretty good once he'd finished his third bag of blood. He decided to leave the fourth and final
bag for later, and he closed the refrigerator door and set to work. He took care of everything as best he could—including handling his assailant—then turned his attention to Kate, who still lay sleeping in the middle of his floor. He debated whether to take her back to her room, but the last he had seen she had hit her head on the closet rod. He didn't like the idea of leaving her alone all night. What if the injury caused her some difficulty later? She should sleep here in his room, though not on the floor.

Moving to her side, Lucern knelt and slipped his hands under Kate, then lifted her into his arms. She barely stirred as he carried her over and laid her on the bed. He noticed the strip of cloth around her wrist as he started to straighten. Picking up her hand, he unwrapped the makeshift bandage. Concern filled him. The gash in her flesh had clotted and was no longer bleeding, but he couldn't tell how deep it was. He didn't think she needed stitches, since it was already closed, but…

He grabbed the phone and called down to the front desk, requesting bandages and antiseptic, then pondered how she might have received the injury. The only thing he could think of was that she had gotten it somehow during the battle. He now regretted letting the man go so lightly. He should have—

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the outer door. The first-aid items had arrived. He went and got them without letting the bellhop in, then went back to attend to Kate. He cleaned her injury and carefully wrapped it, then set her hand gently on her chest and pulled the covers up over her.

He left her sleeping while he stripped off his ruined clothes and showered the blood away. Then he slid into bed, too, being sure to stay as far away from her as he could. He didn't want to risk bumping Kate's arm or have her getting upset when she awoke. He would sleep on his side of the bed.

Of course, he hadn't considered that Kate might not stay on her side. He had just started to doze off when Kate rolled over, throwing her hand across his chest and snuggling up like she belonged there. Oddly enough, it felt like she did.

 

Kate was slow to wake, almost reluctant to face the world. It took a moment for her foggy brain to remember what had happened; then Lucern's image slipped into her mind. She stiffened and opened her eyes. The first thing her gaze fell on was Lucern's chin. She stared at it for a moment, then reluctantly lowered her eyes to his chest, afraid to find the gaping hole there. When she saw bedding, she sat up abruptly, startled to find herself in bed with him. Her gaze swept the room in confusion—only to find it all in order. Had it all been a dream? she wondered vaguely.

Her eyes fell on the floor in front of the mini-refrigerator, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Obviously, someone had tried to wash away blood, and had managed to remove the worst of it, but there was still a large, faint stain. Turning back to Lucern, Kate tugged the blankets down.

A sob surprised her by breaking from her throat at the sight of his unmarred chest. Both relieved and amazed, she ran the tips of her fingers lightly over the
perfect skin there, then she closed her eyes and tried to calm her wildly beating heart. He was alive!

A warm hand closed over hers, and Kate opened her eyes again. Lucern was awake, and he peered at her and clasped her hand.

“You saved my life,” he said solemnly. “Thank you.”

Kate glanced away, her gaze finding the closet and the empty floor in front of it. “The man who attacked you—”

“I cleared his mind and sent him home.”

She stared at him in horror. “Sent him home? He attacked you.”

“I could hardly call the police and try to explain the situation,” Lucern pointed out. He shrugged, then added, “Besides, he wasn't well. His mind is…wrong.”

“Why did he attack you? Was he at the conference? Does he—”

“No, he wasn't a conference attendee. He lives here in the city. Apparently, his wife was a big romance fan. When she left him, he wanted someone to blame it on. He decided it was all those books she was reading.” He shrugged. “He started reading them for himself, and when he got to mine, he got the idea that I was a vampire. He saw our picture in the paper and knew that I was in town, and he decided that I had taken control of his wife's mind and lured her away from him. He began to believe that if he could just destroy me, her mind would be set free. He believed she would come back to him.”

Kate stared at Lucern, her thoughts racing. He sounded so understanding.

She had felt helpless and useless last night, and had
suffered a great sense of loss at the possibility that he might be dead—more loss than was appropriate for one of her writers. There was really no use fighting it anymore. Kate knew her feelings for this man ran deep. She had thought him brilliant and talented before ever meeting him, had found him surly and rude on arriving at his home, then had seen other sides of him slowly show themselves, like the legs, arms and head of a turtle. She had come to see that the hard shell he showed the world was just that, a shell, a shield meant to protect himself. He was smart and strong, but he was also compassionate and kind. A man had nearly killed him, and yet Lucern found it in his heart to feel sorry for him. She heard the compassion in his voice. It was as soft and open as his expression. His shield seemed to be missing entirely this morning, and she had no idea why. She almost wished it weren't so. Perhaps then she would be able to battle the wealth of feelings welling up within her.

“Kate?”

Her eyes refocused on his face.

“How is your head?” he asked. “I saw you hit it on the clothing rod before I lost consciousness last night.”

“My head is in bad shape,” she told him solemnly.

Concern entered his gaze. “It is?” He sat up and reached for her, his fingers running gently over the back of her head. “I took a look last night, but there wasn't much of a bump. I thought…” He fell silent when she placed her hand against his chest where the stake had been. The bedding pooled around his waist, leaving endless flesh bare to her view.

He looked fine. Still, Kate knew he would need to
replenish the blood used to repair his body. She would also have to replace the bags of blood the attacker had destroyed. Luc needed enough to see him through the rest of the conference. It was Saturday morning, six a.m, she saw with a glance at the bedside clock. There was only that day and the next to get through—but Lucern had been injured and would need a large infusion. She was willing to offer him her own. Unlike last night, this time it would be a pleasure to give it. He would make sure of that, she knew. Her fingers moved across his chest of their own accord.

His skin was slightly cool to the touch—not the cold flesh of a corpse, but a degree or two cooler than her own. It felt nice. Kate almost felt as if she were suffering a temperature, but knew her overheated flesh had nothing to do with ill health and everything to do with the naked man in bed next to her. She was pretty sure he was naked. She had learned that first morning that he slept in the nude, and she vaguely recalled her legs scraping bare skin as she had shifted this morning. Of course, he might be wearing jockey shorts or something.

Lucern caught her wayward hand in his, ending her mental debate as to whether he was naked. Kate dragged her gaze from his lap where it had drifted. He caught her eyes with his own, held them as he raised her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm.

Kate's breath caught. His caress caused a tingling in her palm that ran up her arm, eliciting from her a small shiver.

“Does your head hurt very badly?” he asked.

Kate slowly shook her head. “That's not what I meant by its being in bad shape, Luc.”

“Then, what…?”

Kate ignored his question and raised her hand to caress his cheek. The clean bandage on her wrist surprised her. “Did you—?”

“Yes.” He caught her hand and drew it to his mouth. Again he pressed a kiss on her palm just above the edge of the bandage. There was a flicker of anger in his eyes. “Did
he
do this?”

“No. I did,” she admitted. “To help you.”

His gaze followed hers to his chest, and realization dawned on his face. It softened the anger of a moment before.

“Kate,” he began, his voice husky. But she didn't want his gratitude. She hadn't done it wholly for him. Her reasons were much more complex and partially selfish. She had done it for herself. Because she couldn't imagine a world without him in it. She didn't want to, and she didn't want a thank you. She wanted to give him the chance to take the blood he no doubt needed, and she wanted him.

“I want you,” she admitted. “You're one of my writers, a vampire in serious need of blood, you nearly died last night, we both could have died, and yet now, this morning, I don't care about any of that. I want to push you back on the bed, crawl on top of you and take you inside me.”

Lucern stared at Kate, his mind blanked by her words, filled with the image she painted. He could see her pushing him back, dragging the sheets and blankets aside, shrugging out of the bulky terrycloth robe she
wore, then shifting over him and reaching down to guide him into her.

A moment before, what she suggested would have been impossible. His body would not have cooperated. Now, however, he was awake and peering expectantly up from under the blankets.
Damn,
he thought with mild amazement, there was definitely something to be said for modern, aggressive women.

Clearing his throat, Lucern managed a smile. “I think that idea shows merit,” he said.

Oddly, his gruff formal words had the effect of making Kate burst out laughing. Lucern was trying to decide if he should join her or be affronted when she suddenly sobered, straightened beside him on the bed, and untied her robe. She slipped it off her shoulders. As it pooled around her waist, she said solemnly, “I hope you have a condom.”