Broken Heart 02 Don't Talk Back to Your Vampire (12 page)

Just like he was doing.

Instead, I closed the gap between our lips.

His mouth captured mine and I melted into his embrace, quaking from his sudden and gentle conquering of my lips.

Our kisses were tentative. Butterfly wings. Soap bubbles. Angel feathers.

Then I dipped my tongue inside his mouth. He sucked on it, causing hot desire to roar through me.
Lust
backdraft
.

He gathered me closer still, holding me tight as his tongue warred with mine. My hands delved into his loose hair and I tugged, desperate as one of those television housewives. I wanted more, so much more than this—I wanted Lorcan.

Then, like a candle flame doused by the wind, it was over.

"Evangeline." He sounded ragged and hoarse and regretful. Frowning, he cupped my face once more. "I regret nothing."

"Why are you in my head? Why can you—"

"Ssshh. We'll talk about it soon. I promise."

I accepted his evasion, but it made me nervous to know that he could read my thoughts… the same way I could read his.

"Let's go check on Tamara," he said.

"You don't have to babysit me. I'm not going to ditch feeding." I pressed a hand against my stomach.

"I'm starving."

Smiling, he laced his fingers through mine and, unable to resist his chivalry (or bossiness, depending on

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how you looked at it), I led him through the bedroom. He held my hand down all the flights of stairs and by the time we hit the hallway, I was feeling moon-eyed and tingly.

The silence was as thick and strong as a brick wall. No music? No TV? No pings from the PSP? The hair rose on the back of my neck. Had she gone out? I doubted it. It wasn't like her to not pick up the phone if she planned to go somewhere. She was as protective of me as I was of her. I couldn't catch my breath. Then I realized I was trying to inhale oxygen—an unnecessary action for a vampire.

Now every hair on my body stood on end.
Something's wrong
. I wrenched my hand free of Lor's, but he grabbed my shoulder to stop me. Without making a sound, he glided down the hall and paused before my daughter's bedroom door. Despite the fact that not a single light pierced the black, I could see perfectly well.

Fear pounded through me as I followed. With my heart in my throat, I watched Lor open the door.

We looked inside.

The boy, who looked like an escapee from a punk rock band, dropped Tamara's limp body onto her twin bed. He spun, raising his arms in an attack position. Two daggers shot into his hands. They were at least six inches long, sharp on both sides, and aimed at me.

With a snarl, I shoved Lorcan aside and in a nanosecond I had the intruder pinned against the wall by his throat. Fury ripped through me and a red haze descended over my eyes. My fangs elongated and I barely resisted the urge to plunge them into his flesh. "What did you do to my daughter?"

"I didn't hurt her!" yelled the boy. "I am trying to help her!" His accent sounded Russian, but I didn't particularly care where he hailed from. He brought the knives to my stomach; the sharp tips pierced my T-shirt and grazed my skin. "Let me go!"

"You can't hurt
me
." I pressed my hand deeply into his neck and he gurgled, his eyes bulging. "But I can hurt
you
."

His hands fell away, but his gaze held more frustration than fear.

"Eva," said Lorcan in a low voice, "we need to find out why he's here and what he's doing. You must not kill him."

Kill him. Yes. That's what I should do
. I looked at the skin visible between my hand and his T-shirt. I contemplated sinking my fangs into his flesh and dining on him. Hunger wound through my anger and suddenly I couldn't resist dipping closer to the boy.
Kill him
…

No
, a stóirín.
If you harm him, you will never forgive yourself. Let him go
.

Aggrieved by my own behavior, I released the boy, who dropped to the ground and massaged his
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throat. His fancy knives disappeared into his sleeves again.

"Tamara," I said as I rushed to her side. I smoothed her hair away from her too pale face. She was still breathing, but her pulse seemed shallow and erratic. Oh, God. Oh, God. I wanted to cry, but vampires weren't allowed tears. My hands fluttered around her. What could I do? She was so pale. Helpless to do anything, I looked at Lor. His gaze was riveted on her, his lips pulled into a grimace.

I followed his line of sight. On her neck were two spots of blood. Rage reignited in an instant. I wheeled around. "You little bastard!"

Lorcan stepped between us, just as I rose and lurched for the boy again. He said, "
Solas
."

Green balls of light flickered into the room. They floated around as pretty as dancing fairies. Had I seen those lights before? A vague memory flickered, then was lost.

I reined in my temper for the second time. I glared at the young man wobbling to his feet. He had loose black hair, cut in jagged lengths around his face. His shirt was black, as was his leather jacket, which was riveted with silver studs and chains. His jeans were faded and ripped, tucked into black biker boots.

"She's only fifteen," I said.

"So am I," he retorted hoarsely.

"You're a vampire," I accused. "You could've turned fifteen six months ago or sixty years ago." I felt a momentary sense of pity. No matter when he'd been made a vampire, he hadn't had a chance to grow up fully.

"I am not a vampire," said the boy venomously. "I am a vampire
hunter
."

Shocked to my toes, which after the last couple of hours I wouldn't have thought possible, I sank down next to Tamara and stroked her hair. Sick with worry and fear, I focused on my daughter. What had happened to her? Had someone attacked her? Or had she offered herself as a vampire snack?

"You are a Roma warrior," said Lor.

"And you are a
muló
."

"No matter what you believe, I am not a ghost inhabiting a man's form. I own my soul." Lorcan kneeled next to me. His eyes were alight with empathy and concern. "I can transport her to the hospital, Eva."

I knew he meant he would be able to zap her there. Older vampires learned how to dissemble and reassemble their bodies in a way that was very
Star Trek
. Only the really old vamps could take themselves and someone else. I nodded, even though it killed me to be away from her for even a few minutes. "What about him?"

"You will accompany Eva," said Lorcan to the boy. "After we get medical attention for Tamara, you will tell us why you broke into Eva's home and tried to kidnap her daughter."

The boy crossed his arms. "You cannot glamour me, vampire. I am resistant to your powers."

"I am not trying to bend your will," said Lor. "I'm reminding you that the Roma have a peace treaty with
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the Consortium. You do not hunt our members."

His dark eyes flickered with anger. Then he nodded sharply. "I will do as you ask."

Lorcan scooped Tamara into his arms. He leaned down and kissed my cheek. "All will be well, Eva. I promise."

He and my daughter disappeared in a shower of gold sparkles. I turned toward the Roma hunter. "Do you have a name?" I asked.

"Durriken."

He pronounced it "DOO-reek-en." His accent wasn't Russian after all. I couldn't pinpoint it, and honestly, I didn't care. Weary, starved, and eager to get to the medical facility, which had been completed mere weeks ago, I pointed to the door. "Let's go."

"You say the girl is your daughter, but you are dead."

"I had her before I got
undead
," I snapped. "And you'd do well to remember to address your elders with more respect."

Durriken flashed a grin, looking more like the boy he was than the warrior he claimed to be. "You are a mother, no doubt."

We left the house and though it killed me not to run to the hospital and leave Durriken behind, I knew it wasn't wise. Instead, we got into my yellow VW. Had I been alone, I would've raced through the streets and made hairpin turns. Unfortunately, my passenger wouldn't survive a crash, so I only went twenty miles faster than the posted speed limits.

By the time we arrived at the hospital, Durriken was clutching the sides of his seat and looking green. I thought it a fine, if petty, revenge. The cuts on my stomach had already healed, but my T-shirt was done for.

The new hospital had been built on the same ground occupied by the old Broken Heart hospital. It had been one of the first buildings bulldozed. The new building was three stories, white as the frosting on a wedding cake, and filled with state-of-the-art equipment designed to help humans and parakind.

Durriken staggered from the car, then glared at me. "Next time I will walk."

"Suits me," I said.

We hurried to the front entrance. Lorcan waited for us in the small, well-appointed lobby.

"Dr. Merrick says Tamara is stable. Her room is on the third floor. I called Patrick and Jessica. They will be here soon."

"Thanks." We followed Lor into an elevator. I felt dizzy and my fangs refused to retract. My stomach roiled. As the elevator stopped, I felt as though the floor was falling away. I grasped the wall and tried to get my balance.

"You must feed," said Lor.

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"I will," I said, licking my lips. All the moisture seemed to have left my mouth.

Seconds later, I stood over my daughter's hospital bed. Tamara looked like a porcelain doll tucked into a cotton-filled box. An IV was inserted into her left arm and a device on her forefinger hooked her up to a monitoring machine.

A blond woman stood nearby. The buttoned white lab coat covered most of her clothes, but I could see the legs of her black slacks and her thick-soled black shoes.

She smiled. "I'm Dr. Merrick. Tamara is stable, though still unconscious. We're putting fluids back into her system." She gestured to the IV.

"What happened to her? Did a vampire…" I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"I'm afraid so, Mrs. LeRoy."

"It's 'Miss,' " I said automatically. I reached down and took Tamara's hand.

Lorcan wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He held me close and I leaned in, grateful for his comfort. I'd never had another person to lean on. For a while, I'd had my mother to help me and then I'd had Tamara. Suddenly, I realized how alone I'd been. I hadn't allowed anyone to get too close. I had kept mine and Tamara's relationship as the cornerstone of my life. Without her, I had no one.

"Given her paleness and her exhaustion, it's my opinion that whoever fed from her took more than was necessary. As you know, most vampires need only a pint daily to sustain them. And most have more than one donor, so that each donor has at least forty-eight hours of recovery between feedings."

Would Tamara have offered herself as a donor? Somehow I didn't think so. Tamara might've been a kid, but she wasn't stupid. She knew the dangers of being a donor just as she knew the dangers of being alone with vampires. I was the only one with whom she was truly safe.