Born in Twilight (8 page)

“Of course she did,” Jameson said, not believing a word she said.

She lifted her head, met his eyes. “I could feel what she felt. I knew when she was here, and I was aware of it the instant they…took her away.” Her head lowered to his shoulder again, and he knew she could hold it up no longer. She was very near death right now. “I'll know again, when we get close to her. I swear to Christ, I will.”

Jameson tipped her chin up with one hand and searched her eyes, wondering if she might be telling the truth, nearly wincing at the agony he saw in their violet depths. And then he scanned her mind, not expecting to find much there, particularly if she were lying. She'd be smart enough to guard her thoughts if she hoped to fool him. But he was surprised, because her mind was utterly unguarded. Completely open to him.

He must take me out of this place! Yes, he's a monster…a horrible monster, just like the other…but even a monster is better than dying here. I'll run from him. I'll get away as soon as I leave these walls behind. And then I'll use this psychic bond to find my child by myself. I'll take her away from them…and away from him. His kind will never lay eyes on her. I'll protect her from all of them. And if I must feed on the innocent to do it, then so be it!

Jameson tilted his head, studying the brief, rebellious anger in her eyes. Shocked by the power of it. Hungry. She was so very hungry. And she thought him a vile monster. Odd, since if vampires were monsters, she must surely realize she was one as well.

She hated him. Hated what he was. Hated every one of her own race. She was a traitorous, murderous creature. And she wanted to take his child from him.

But the bond with the baby was apparently real. And he needed her if he hoped to rescue his daughter. The rest, he'd worry about later.

“Come on,” he said, turning for the door. “Let's get the hell out of here.”

She took a single step, and fell to the hard floor. Jameson looked at her, lying there, all but helpless, and slowly he closed his eyes, knowing full well what must be done. Hating it, but knowing it. He could not carry her from this place and risk being seen. She must wear the disguise he wore, and she must walk out on her own. And she couldn't do that in this weakened state.

He crouched and scooped her up into his arms, holding her like a child, and then he turned her face to his own throat, one hand at the back of her head, cupping her, supporting her. Sharing blood with another vampire…he'd been warned of the bond it could create. The attraction it could stir. The longing it would embed in the depths of his soul like an addiction. But it could not be helped. For his daughter, he must do this.

She turned her face away.

“You know what's necessary as well as I do,” he told her. “Do it.”

“I can't,” she whispered, and he thought there might be tears on her cheeks.

“Do it, damn you!” And he turned her face to him again, pressed her tight to his neck.

She parted her mouth and sank her fangs deeply into his flesh, and Jameson drew a deep, shuddering breath. He felt her mouth working him there, hesitantly at first, but then harder and faster as the bloodlust overwhelmed her. He felt each movement of her lips, each lap of her hungry little tongue. And lust came rushing through him. Weakening him. He trembled with it, dropping to his knees and moaning, and still he held her there. His heart rate quickened, and his breaths came rapid and shallow. True, Roland had warned him how closely the bloodlust and sexual desire were linked in his kind. How the two intertwined to the point where they were nearly inseparable. But this was a thousand times more powerful than what he'd experienced with her before. And he hadn't expected it to be like this. Not like this. Not this urge to pull her closer. To do to her what she was doing to him. To take her, in every way he knew how, until, until…

She lifted her head, blinking and looking dazed. He hadn't had to tell her to stop. She'd done it on her own. And judging from the look in her eyes, he thought she'd experienced the same mind-numbing desire as he had.

As he…still did?

He swallowed hard, and got to his feet, lowered her to the floor, still shaking with unbelievable need. Her face was no longer chalk white, but was slowly becoming infused with healthy color. A glow. And her eyes were shining brighter with every second he spent looking into them. Her dulled hair took on a new gleam, and her hollowed cheeks began to plump right before his eyes.

God, she was beautiful.

He blinked the thought away. No time for this. Not now.

“I…feel stronger,” she whispered, but the shock of the desire that had raged between them still showed in her violet eyes. “Thank you.” She was bewildered. She had no clue what had transpired between them, was completely shocked over the feelings that had swamped her just now.

Looking back at her, he nodded and reached into his pocket for the second lab coat he'd brought along. He held it open for her, and she turned, swayed, nearly fell, but managed to catch her balance and thrust her arms into its sleeves. It wasn't starvation weakening her now. It was desire. And it disgusted her. Jameson watched her struggle with the buttons for just a moment, then ran out of patience and bent to do them up himself, effectively covering the thin white robe that was all she'd been wearing.

He then produced a surgical mask and a disposable paper head covering, a puffy thing with elastic. Quickly and efficiently, he wound her long, tangled hair into a bunch, snapped the cap over it and tucked the loose tendrils up underneath.

“That's going to have to do,” he said, standing back and eyeing her, noting how those violet eyes stood out above the white mask she wore. “Come.” He took her hand once more, pulled her out of the room, into the hall, and started down it. He looked down at her, saw her fear in her eyes. She was afraid of him. He'd sensed that from the start. And no wonder. She must expect some kind of retribution from the “monster” she'd once tried to murder. But right now, she was more afraid of the others who roamed this place. Her eyes were wide with it, and she was trembling.

He squeezed her hand for some reason he could not explain. Perhaps to calm her fears. It was cold, shaking. She didn't pull it away. “I don't know your name,” he said softly. “Ironic, isn't it? We have a child together, and don't even know the simplest things about each other.”

“I'm Angelica,” she whispered.

Angelica. Angel, he thought. A dark, frightened, lonely angel. Stupid thought. She was no angel.

“I'm Jameson.”

They reached the elevator that led to the furnace. No one should be there at this hour of the night. DPI didn't dare risk one of their victims waking—bolstered by the night—as they shoved him into the flames, and wreaking havoc on the attendants. They stepped inside, and the doors slid closed. “What happened to you?” he asked her as the car started upward. “How did you end up alone in that condemned building, half-starved?”

She lowered her head, shook it slowly. “I was mad. Out of my mind, that night.”

The car jerked to a stop. Angelica was jostled against him, and he closed his arms around her without forethought.

“I'm sorry for what I did to you,” she whispered. “It's my fault you're…”

“What, Angelica? A monster? That's what you think I am, isn't it?”

She looked up at him as the doors slid open, eyes widening. Yes, she must know he'd read her mind now.

“Just so you know, your plan to run from me as soon as we're out of here is never going to come about.”

“What?”

Taking her arm, he led her from the elevator, and out through the exit. There were guards outside of course, but he kept close to the shadows, using trees and shrubs for cover. He stopped behind one, out of earshot of those sentries, and faced her once more. “Your maker should have taught you better, Angelica. Vampires can read one another's thoughts. Just as I read yours back there. Even a fledgling ought to know enough to guard them. You are not going to run from me once we're away from here. You're not going to find my child and take her away where I'll never lay eyes on her again. I won't allow that.”

“You can't stop me,” she whispered. “I can find her. I'm the one with the bond to my little one, not you!”

“Which is why,” Jameson said as the guards in the distance turned away, and he started forward again, still holding her arm in a firm grip. “I've decided to keep you with me. Right by my side, Angelica, until we find our daughter. As my prisoner, if need be.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he said, gripping her arm and leading her quickly across an open space before the guards could turn in their direction again. “But don't worry. I'm not nearly as monstrous as you seem, for some reason, to think I am.”

 

I went with him. But only because I had no choice. I was still weak, and run-down, and he was obviously much stronger than I. I knew nothing, then, of my own abilities. Of the limits of my power, or the psychic part of my newfound senses. I only knew that I could die easily if exposed to fire, as my creator had. And that starvation could leave me weak and barely able to function. I suspected it, too, could kill me, but of course, I couldn't be sure.

So I went with this stranger. This vampire. This Jameson who claimed to have fathered my child. I went with him, thinking I'd certainly traded one hell for another, and vowing in silence that when I was strong, I would run. If he could read my thoughts, then let him. I would run from him, just as fast and as far as I could, at the very first opportunity.

I was afraid of him. When I'd put my mouth to his skin, a wildness had come to life inside me. A madness far more intense than what I'd felt the first time I'd taken from him. A passion that blazed like hell itself, and weakened me with its intensity. I was ashamed of the feelings that had overwhelmed me for this man. And what frightened me even more was that I'd sensed he'd felt them, too.

I must escape him.

But until then, I would bide my time. Use it to regain my strength and to discover the extent of my abilities. That way I'd be more able to rescue my child from the animals who held her.

Jameson was young, not more than thirty. He was human when I met him. I was certain of that. No vampire would have allowed me to do what I'd done to Jameson. He was strong, too. Broad across the back, and very tall. But I would escape him. When we were out of this place, I would get away. I had to, for my daughter's sake. And for my own.

He led me right up to the towering and obviously electrified mesh fence that surrounded this prison, and as I looked up at it, my hopes of escape faded rapidly. “What now?” I whispered, turning to look up at him.

He frowned down at me as if puzzled by the question. Then he reached up to pull the cap from my head, and remove the mask from my face, tossing them carelessly to the ground. “Now,” he said, “we jump it.”

I nearly choked as I stood there, searching this grim-faced man's countenance for some sign that he was joking. When there was none, I looked up at the fence, back at him, and slowly shook my head. “It's impossible.”

“You have no idea how strong you are, do you?”

Well, of course, I did not. But I felt admitting as much to him would be a dire mistake.

“Just how long ago were you made, Angelica?”

I shrugged, turning my gaze to the fence once more, ignoring his question.

“Put your arm around my shoulders,” he instructed, and though still doubtful, I did so. He slipped his strong arm around my waist, his fingers pressing into my belly as he pulled me firmly against his side. And that rush of desire for him returned. What was this madness?

Then he bent his knees, drawing me down with him. “Now…jump!”

He pushed off, and I did as well, nearly laughing at the idiocy of it all. I fully expected to hop perhaps a foot or two into the air, and then land right back where I stood. So I was ill prepared for the flight that followed. We sailed into the night sky like two rockets, propelled upward by no more than the force of our legs, pushing off. The mesh rushed before my eyes in a blur, and then we cleared it by several feet. And as the momentum eased and changed, and we began to plummet toward the earth on the other side, my heart nearly tripped to a stop in fear. My hair blew upward, and the night wind whistled past my ears. I peeked below us, saw the ground rushing at us at dizzying speeds, and I clung to Jameson and I buried my face against his shoulder, too afraid to look again. He closed his free arm around me, holding me against him as if I were a child. We hurtled downward, and I expected I would suffer incredibly upon impact.

But instead, I felt my feet hit the ground, and then my knees bent as the rest of my weight followed. My body absorbed the impact without pain. I stumbled and fell onto my backside, the motion pulling me out of Jameson's firm embrace, which was a relief and a disappointment, all at once. I felt clumsy, I recall, as I saw the grace with which he landed, squatting low and then springing upright again, all without wobbling in the least. And then he turned to me, reached for me and pulled me to my feet.

I could only stare up at the fence we'd just leaped, almost effortlessly. I couldn't believe….