The Nightlife San Antonio: (Urban Fantasy Romance) (The Nightlife Series) (5 page)

He could only imagine how bad her wounds must be, and how drugged up she was.
Call the police, right now.
That was the sensible thing to do.

Adrian unlocked the front door of his second story apartment and paused, cell phone in hand. His fingers itched to dial those three numbers, b
ut his instincts stopped him. For some stupid reason, he felt like he was meant to help her.

What th
e hell else did he have going? Crenshaw, talking shit, and a six pack of beer? Not exactly high adventure.

Fuck it.

He grabbed a blanket and dashed down the stairs to the crazy woman in his truck. She lay there, looking up at him. Psycho or not, the girl had a strange appeal, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

* * * *

She sat up for him and watched as he wrapped the blanket around her, snug and warm. Then he scooped her up in his arms without so much as a grunt. She liked the sense of security of being held in his strong arms. She could have walked. She felt strong enough to run. But she let him do what he wanted. At the door to his apartment, the neighboring apartment door swung open and a man rumbled in a distinct Texas drawl, “Bout time you brought something home. I was beginning to wonder.”

The neighbor
stepped out into the porch light, staring right at her. She pulled the blanket over her face and burrowed into her man’s warm chest. She had begun to think of this man as
hers
.

“Cren, she’s … tired. Had too much to drink.” He hugged her close and turned away from the other man, shielding her with his body. “I’ll catch ya tomorrow.”

Her savior stepped into his apartment and kicked the door shut behind him, right in his neighbor’s face. Though she hurt all over, she didn’t want him to let go. She wanted to keep this man, keep his arms around her. He smelled a bit ripe, sweaty, but still good. Her stomach growled at the thought of food within reach.

He carried her over to the kitchen and set her on the stool at the breakfast bar. “You sound hungry. I can make you a sandwich.”

Her stomach rumbling, she nuzzled against him as he tried to step away. His heart thudded loud and strong, right there, an inch away. All that juicy flesh just under the surface. Her teeth came out long and full, ready.

“
Yes, I am hungry. Starving.” She struck into his neck, sinking her teeth in deep, grasping his shoulders to keep him from escaping her.

“Ow, what the hell?”
He tried to pull back. “Shit! Let me go.”

She held
on and slid off the seat, following him as he backed away. This one tasted rich, thick. Strong, healthy, much younger than the fifty-something police officer. She wrapped around him, arms and legs entwined tightly as he squirmed to dislodge her.

“God
damn.” He fell against the wall and pulled her on top of him as he scooted down to the floor to land on his rump. He twitched, spasmed, then stopped fighting.

She realized she would have to stop soon, o
r he would be hurt. With willpower she found from somewhere deep inside, she let go and tongued his neck furiously for every last drop. She wiped her face and licked the last of his blood off the back of her hand.

He sat on the kitchen tile
, back to the wall, his arms loose around her. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he labored to breathe. His hips squirmed beneath her. The spike of his hard cock ground against her pubic bone. She liked the feel of him between her legs. So strong and warm. She had a sudden urge to unzip his pants and find the juicy veins at the center of his sizeable erection.

She shook her head, breaking the disturbing desire for carnage.

Somehow, she knew that it would only take one or two more bites to claim him as her personal property, a slave. She didn’t know where the idea came from, but she knew this was true. She must have done it before.

Try as she might, she couldn’t recall anythin
g, no names, no faces, nothing.

His hazel-
brown eyes had watered up, dilated darker. She traced a tear down his stubbled cheek. He had an athlete’s face, with angular jawlines and strong, hard shoulders. She wanted to cut through his shirt and study the rest of him that she couldn’t see. This man would soon be hers, and she needed to inspect her future property.

He was still dazed, sighing with the joy of her bite.
Her fingers delicately slid across the bite on his neck. “Did I hurt you?”

His eyes finally came into focus on her
as he wiped a bit of slobber from the side of his mouth. “You’re one crazy bitch.”

She nodded,
probably
, and grinned. Oops, too many teeth.

Alarm struck his face. “W
ho the fuck are you?” He finally pushed her off his lap. She watched his eyes track her inner thighs as she scooted back away for fear he might hit her. The man was unpredictable, but one thing she knew for sure, he desired her.

She
struggled to stand, still unsteady on her feet, and swayed until her hand found the counter to steady herself.

“This silent shit doesn’t cut it. I need to know who you are.” He
stood up and advanced on her. His hand rubbed his neck and came away with a touch of blood on his fingertips. He scowled. “Fuck, you broke the skin. Damn it!”

Not exactly what
she had hoped for. She leaned back, bumping up against the counter. She was so damn tired. Weakness washed through her body and her head swam dizzily. In spite of the rich blood spreading nourishment throughout her system, fatigue gutted her. Every movement brought pain. She needed more of his blood. But she had to wait, let him recover.
I am not a killer. I will not kill him.

She swayed and commanded her eyelids to stay open.

He watched her suspiciously. “You gotta be pretty high right now, morphine, Demerol, but that wears off fast. Are you feeling any pain?”

She shook her head, but he probably saw right through her
lie. If not for the countertop, she’d have keeled over. Her meal had helped, but it wasn’t enough. Enough for what?

“As long as you don’t bite me, I will treat your wounds and get you some clothes.
Biting is off limits, you understand?”

She nodded agreement
. For now
.

* * * *

He had to chang
e his underwear before he did anything else with the nutjob in his kitchen. Whatever she did to him, he had lost his load, right in his pants. Hell, he was still sporting a semi. He almost fell over trying to step out of his boxer shorts. The damn woman had left him high and light-headed. He grabbed the water bottle off the nightstand and guzzled it down as he looked to the gun cabinet in his closet.

He checked the lock on the
cabinet door to make sure she couldn’t steal one of his guns. The way she latched onto him with her chompers, he wouldn’t put it past her to try something else.

But damn it felt good when she bit him.
He was itching to ask her to do it again. That was the freakiest thing he’d ever felt. Like snorting cocaine and catching an awesome blow job, all at the same time.

His hands shook as he
slipped on some jeans and caught his composure. He found her right where he left her, on his bar stool by the kitchen counter. Definitely have to Lysol the countertops and furniture.

He handed
her a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “It’s all I have that will fit. Bathroom’s over there.”

S
he grabbed the clothes and her huge doe eyes stared at him unblinking. He knew what she was waiting for, but dammit, he didn’t want to get that personal. Crazy chick probably needed help getting dressed. He had caught a full pussy shot as she crab-walked away from him, and she hadn’t seemed to mind. The woman had no modesty.

This is why he had
avoided the nursing routine. He had no stomach for bedpans and wiping asses. But, he needed her clothes off anyways, to check out her wounds. “Do you need a hand?”

She looked down at his hand, as if he would hack it off and give it to her. Then her eyes traveled to the bulge in
his jeans, like she knew her effect on him. The crazy chicks always know. This was the single weirdest experience he’d ever had with a woman.

She looked over to the bathroom across the room and back at him. “Yes, I need help.” The brat had a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

He blew out a long sigh and accepted the unpleasant task. “Alright.” He came to her, warily, and slid his arm around her slender waist, her hospital gown crumpling as he helped her walk to the bathroom.
Definitely need to scrub up with antibacterial soap before this night is through.

“
Stay off the neck.” He mustered all his considerable severity and eyed her. “I mean it.”

“Okay.”
She spoke so quietly, like a dainty little woman made of glass, ready to shatter at the slightest mistreatment. You’d have thought he just stomped on her toes the way she looked all butt-hurt.

There was something
strange about her eyes. She never blinked, always held his gaze directly. Most women would look away, or smile, or fidget uncomfortably. Not her, she just stared. He suspected a man could become completely lost in those dark orbs.

A smile quirked his lips. She was probably a lesbian.
Seems like most of the hot chicks have gone lesbian or, at least, bisexual. A cruel joke on men.

He scooted her a little closer and helped her limp into the cramped space of his half bath. There wasn’t much room fo
r this sort of thing. The other bathroom off his bedroom was plenty large, full-size tub and all, but he’d rather have this smaller area to disinfect. Probably need an entire case of Clorox wet wipes for this girl.

She sat on the toilet seat,
and leaned back with a weary sigh, oblivious to the fact that the gown covered almost nothing of her legs and thighs. What an odd girl. So
alive
, spry. The more he checked her out in the bright light of the bathroom, the weirder it got.

She should be on life support, laid out, leaking from all those nasty wounds. This woman looked like shit, but nothing even close to the injuries he had seen on her body two nights ago.

He couldn’t help himself. He undid the buttons of her gown and opened it. His hands reached for her red-stained bandages. She just sat there and watched him, silent. The bandages came away easily, revealing wounds that had seen several weeks of healing.

“Holy hell!”

He backed away till he hit the door jamb with his shoulder. She just sat there, looking down at her naked chest, only to look back up at him, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s … fucking amazing!”

“Yeah? Well it hurts, a lot.” Her strange puzzlement morphed to a hiss of pain. For a moment there, she had a snarl going. Oh man, not only was she crazy, but she had a mean streak too. He needed to get rid of this girl fast.

He quickly pulled
the rest of her bandages from her stomach, breasts, and thigh. “I’m sorry. I can give you something for the pain, but it’s only Percocet. I have a few pills left over from when I strained my shoulder a couple months ago.”

Eyes squinted up in pain
, she nodded. “I’ll take whatever you have.”

She lay there
fully exposed, a single button holding her gown together, bloody, bruised, definitely not in any shape to be sexy. But those words, spoken in her husky, pain-filled voice led to the wrong kind of response low in his groin. His eyes traveled down her slim belly to the soft curves of her shaved mound. He could see the top of her slit.

Under different circumstances, this woman would be a fine little piece of ass. He
was already getting hard again.
Stop it you idiot. She needs your help, not your cock. Stop being such a perverted sociopath
. She caught him staring at her in fascination, and he almost felt embarrassed. Almost.

“I’ll be right back.”

He jetted to his bedroom, to the master bath. His shaking hands found the half-full bottle of Percocet and then he dug through the mirror cabinet for the first aid kit he’d cobbled together from stolen hospital supplies. One of the perks of working as a paramedic, he never needed to buy medical supplies.

“Here.” He handed her two pills and a bottle of water
, double the normal dose. She was probably in a shit-ton of pain.

She reached out to take the pills. “No water. I can’t stand the taste of it.”
She swallowed them dry.

He s
hrugged. The woman would dehydrate without water. But that was going to be her problem, as soon as he could get her out of his apartment and onto a bus. “You really do need fluids, but, suit yourself.”