Caleb (40 page)

The
woman presented her arm. He bit gently, fed efficiently. As soon as he took as
much as he could, he ordered the woman away.

“Done
already?” Vincent asked.

“Yes.”

Allie’s
head came up. Along with it her snarl. He thought she was going to hit him
again. He’d let her if she needed to. Instead she fought the sleeve of her robe
and scrubbed obsessively at his mouth. When his face felt raw and she still
showed no sign of stopping, he wrapped his fingers in her hair and tugged.
“Enough.”

The
wildness left her eyes to slowly be replaced by horror. She looked at her arm,
and then at his mouth, which had to be reddened from the abrasion. Tears welled
in her eyes again. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“And
here I was about to thank you for making me presentable.”

She
stared at him for a heartbeat, clutching her wrist in her hand. She blinked and
then gasped. He didn’t have to ask why. Her stomach muscles cramped so hard he
had the impression she’d doubled over long before she actually had. “Shit.”

She
struggled to get off him. He held her in place.

“I
think I’m going to be sick.”

“Then
get sick.”

She
shook her head. “Not on you.”

“I’d
prefer you hit the floor, but if it comes down to me holding you through it or
you going through it alone, you go right ahead and heave up your toes all over
me.” Holding her was the only comfort he could offer her, and he wasn’t going
to withdraw it, not for love or money, or the threat of a mess.

She
lay on her side on top of him, her body twisted into a fetal ball, riding out
the pain he’d given her when he’d turned her, panting in short staccato breaths
that didn’t leave much room for speech. But she still managed a “Glutton.”

He
stroked her hair. “When it comes to you, always.”

Across
the room, Vincent stood straight, those pale eyes watching with a predatory
gleam, a damn coyote waiting to steal the prize. Caleb flipped him the middle
finger. He was never getting Allie.

Allie
bucked on him, dry heaves racking her body. So violently he expected her bones
to separate from her joints. He didn’t know how she survived it. She felt so
frail to him, though if he told her that, he had a feeling she’d spend an hour
explaining to him the wrongness of his notion. The heaves finally ended,
leaving her pale and shaking, barely conscious, so exhausted her breaths were
whis pery sighs rather than healthy inhalations.

“Enough
of this.” With two quick, heavy steps, Vincent approached the table, staying on
Caleb’s bound side. Too bad. Caleb would have taken great pleasure in wringing
his neck. Vincent grabbed Allie’s upper arm, yanking her up and around before
shoving her face to Caleb’s throat. She hung limp in his grasp, either
incapable or unwilling to follow his order to feed.

Fury
as he’d never known poured through Caleb. Fangs exploded back into his mouth.
His talons extended to their full six inches. With a disgusted curse, Vincent
dropped Allie. She sprawled atop Caleb like a broken doll.

Vincent
poked her. She didn’t move. “Fucking bitch left it too late.”

It
wasn’t too late. He wouldn’t let it be. Caleb cradled Allie’s head in his palm,
holding her mouth against his chest. He slipped his pinkie between her lips and
his skin, angling it down, slicing deep. Blood pooled against his finger and
spread to her lips. She didn’t respond. Damn.

“C’mon
baby. Just a little. For me.”

Her
eyes closed. He guessed he could take it as a no. Vincent shook her. Her head
rolled back and forth. Caleb slashed Vincent’s arm, snarling in satisfaction as
blood sprayed in an arc. “Do that again and I’ll cut your fucking arm off.”

Vincent
sealed the wound with his tongue, ignoring the crimson splash across his robe.
“Your usefulness is about over, cowboy. Instead of making pointless threats,
I’d suggest thinking about ways to keep me from killing you.”

Talk
about useless. That threat was about as viable as teats on a bull. “She’s
unconscious.”

Blood
pooled on his chest between them, chilling in the cool air. Caleb rubbed some
on her tongue. Did her lashes flicker?

Vincent
folded his arms across his chest. “Wake her up.”

Caleb
didn’t spare him a glance. “Drop the barrier.”

“You
don’t give the orders here.”

“I’m
giving this one, and if you want Allie to feed, you’ll follow it.”

The
other man held his gaze, projecting his dominance with mind and stance. Caleb
dismissed both. He’d kicked the asses of more impressive men while on a
three-day bender. He pushed Allie’s bangs off her face. She was so pale. Too
pale. He brushed his lips over her hair. With an abruptness that resounded
louder than a clanging bell, the buzzing disappeared. Vincent had given in.
Caleb hid his elation against her cheek.

“Allie,
if you don’t wake up and feed right now, I’m going to trash that damn stove
you’re so fond of and sell it as scrap.” He put his lips by her ear. “Just
think, you’ll never get that bear claw recipe perfected. Jared will forever be
teasing you about your baked goods.” Her eyelids definitely flickered then.
“And before you give up, you might just want to remember how long a time
forever is for us.”

Her
lips moved against his chest.

“What?”

“Bastard.”

The
smile pushed out from his soul. “That’s my girl. Come out swinging.”

“Can
I feed now?”

“Yes.”

She
lapped at his skin. Her body moved against his side. Soft, sweet, and sexy.
His. Everything he ever wanted. He massaged his fingers through her hair,
giving her the time she needed, knowing how difficult it was going to be when
it ended. He didn’t think she’d thought that far down the road to what would
happen when one hunger replaced another. But, seeing the expectation on
Vincent’s face, the eagerness betrayed by his tense muscles, Vincent had.

And
that conversion of desire was the whole reason he’d brought Allie here. Vincent
figured on taking the lust that followed bloodlust and using it to bind Allie
to him. He planned on raping her.

Caleb
lifted his lip in response to Vincent’s smile. The son of a bitch would never
touch her.

With
a little sigh that shot straight to his groin, Allie centered her fangs. Every
color in the spectrum of erotic delight shot through his system as her bite
took him over the edge into pleasure. He loved the moment when she gave herself
to him like this, trusting him to take care of her,
letting
him take
care of her. She was such an independent soul, it didn’t happen often. Not a
wholehearted surrender. The moments when it did should be savored.

But
this one wouldn’t be. Just one more debt to lay at Vincent’s feet. This time
there was too much at stake. Allie’s lips brushed his skin in velvet caresses
as she fed, her breath a soft quavery invitation, breeding a deeper need. He
let it rise, subtly gathering his strength behind the veil of the hunger,
projecting his sexual response, distracting Vincent with the sensations, while
in his mind he gathered the familiar voices. His brothers were coming.

It
was hard to discern night from day this deep in the mountain, but the fact that
his brothers’ war cry shivered along his own battle instincts meant it was
night. The Johnson brothers were on the warpath, and the Sanctuary was coming
down. The Johnson brothers didn’t kick shit fancy, but they did kick shit well.

Allie’s
tongue licked over his chest in little darts of flame, her hunger primitive and
demanding, uncaring of an audience, uncaring of danger. Her body drew on his in
long, slow contractions. His cock leapt. He pressed her mouth tighter to his
chest as she did it again. Vincent stepped forward, reaching out. Caleb only
had time to send one thought before the buzzing began again.

Get
ready, Allie.

Caleb
locked on the buzzing, linking his mind to the rhythm and the flickering light,
moving between the patterns. Against them, Allie quivered and kissed his neck,
her lush breasts rubbing against him. He countered her moves with his, feeling
Vincent’s confidence that he was too far gone to protest, using the distraction
to sneak behind Vincent’s mental barriers, looking for the loophole that would
make everything possible. He found it, breached it, and then all hell broke
loose.

VINCENT
struck first.

A
blinding flash of brilliant agony shot into Caleb’s brain wrenching a scream
from his psyche. He contained it as he grabbed hold of that betraying beam,
following that energy back, knowing if he backed off now he’d never have the
opportunity again. Knowing if he failed, Allie was gone.

Blood
pooled red behind his eyes. Sparks shot inward from the perimeter of his mind’s
eye, and in the center of the mental confusion glowed the bright yellow light
that was the power Vincent wielded with such skill. The control center for this
whole compound. The barrier he needed to breach.

The
mental calls of his brothers grew louder as he probed deeper, three of the
hundreds of threads of energy making up the rays of light. With every call,
they telegraphed to Vincent where they were, what they were planning,
unwittingly giving their enemy all the information he needed to ambush them.

Caleb
gritted his teeth. It wasn’t going to happen. Vincent wasn’t getting his wife
and he was not killing his brothers. Not if he had any say about it. And he
did. A lot.

Tapping
into the threads, he pulled himself deeper, riding the tendrils of his
brothers’ energy, sheltering himself within the familiar, but they weren’t a
straight path. They looped and spun, forcing him to loop and spin with them.
Every time he touched Vincent’s power, thousands of synapses in his brain
writhed in agony. And he betrayed his presence. He could feel Vincent searching
for him. His brothers’ tendrils swirled into the center becoming completely
entangled in Vincent’s. Hiding time was over.

As
soon as he hit the wall, a bolt of energy flashed outward, hitting him square
on. The world went black. Allie’s scream ricocheted around him, hatred and
violence blending with desperation and determination. His brothers’ voices grew
louder and more distinct. Their power brushed his. Too far away to help. He
closed his eyes and fought on. He would have to; he couldn’t let Vincent win.

And
then he felt it. Another presence in his mind: soft, feminine, it came
alongside, attached to his force before branching out along the light,
surrounding it in pale pink ribbons of feminine power. Allie. Damn it! Once
again, where she didn’t belong. Putting herself in danger in an effort to save
him.

Another
raw burst of energy shot out from Vincent heading for Allie. Caleb pulled the
energy into himself to keep it from striking, imprisoning it as blistering fire
seared up his spinal cord, tearing along his nerves. His body spasmed. His
talons dented the steel table as he arched his back and released the agony on a
roar of rage. A whisper skated along the edge of his consciousness.
Hold on.
Hold on.

Allie
didn’t have to worry. He wasn’t letting go until the son of a bitch was dead.
Caleb tried to redirect the light, but it was too powerful, a breathtaking burn
consuming his brain, one cell at a time, eating away at his strength.
Debilitating shudders racked his frame as he took more of the assault into
himself, giving Allie time, watching the little bits of feminine strength
stretch like veins into the outpouring of energy, weaving through the pattern,
finding key spots in the sequence, marking them with visible color. Every pink
line that twined around that burning light was his woman, fighting with the
same stubbornness and determination that had defeated the wolves. Vincent
didn’t stand a fucking chance.

Hurry,
Allie!

Even
as he said it, Caleb didn’t know if she could. She was expending a tremendous
amount of energy. He could feel her desperation. She sensed he was losing the
battle. His brothers’ curses grew louder, Vincent’s mental blows stronger.
Caleb deflected what he could, learning as he went the rules of a battle fought
solely in the mind. And he held on. Held on to that violent, sickening pile of
hatred, keeping it from lashing out, keeping it still so the sweetness of Allie
could rip it apart. Who knew feminine strength could be so devastating?

The
pattern of light wavered. Energy ebbed and flowed. Caleb tested his bonds,
needing to be free, ready to take this war to the physical plane. Soon, it
would be soon.

Beyond
the mental battle he could hear his brothers’ war cries, the staccato thunder
of gunshots, the crash of glass, hoarse yells punctuated by the cold methodical
feel of vengeance being wrought. The light wavered again. Trying to maintain
his stronghold’s defense was weakening Vincent’s mental strength.

Lightning
shot down the light Caleb held, knifing into his brain. His body bucked, his
hold loosened. He heard Allie’s scream as his strength faltered. Vincent’s
laugh echoed in his head.