Chosen by Blood (41 page)

She pushed down the blanket that had been pulled up to the vamp’s chin, intending to prop him up and hold her wrist to his mouth. Instead, when the lowered blanket revealed the same medallion that Knox wore, she reached for it.

Knox, who’d already been bending down toward her, cupped his hand beneath her elbow, stopping her. With his other hand, he lifted the medallion. “My clan,” he whispered. “But I don’t recognize . . .” He turned the medallion over.

Knox’s eyes widened as his hand froze. He shook his head. The hand cupping her elbow began to tremble. His gaze sought out Felicia’s.

“What is it?” she asked.

“My father. He wore a medallion like this, with three D’s inscribed on the back. Three D’s for the three Devereauxs. He had it on him the day he was executed.”

Knox turned the medallion over so that Felicia could see the back.

She saw the three D’s immediately.

Viciously, Knox ripped the chain from the vamp’s throat. Instantly, the vamp opened his eyes and for a moment they flashed with rage. A growl, weak but distinct, escaped the vamp’s mouth.

“Where did you get this?” Knox asked. “Where . . .” Gritting his teeth, Knox grabbed the vamp by the throat.

“Knox, stop,” Felicia yelled, grabbing at the arm holding the vamp’s throat. With a snarl, he pushed her back. Hard.

Stunned, she lay on the ground, staring up at him.

The regret in his eyes was instantaneous, but when he reached for her, she flinched back. His expression going blank, he turned back to the vamp. “My father wore this when he was executed. Were you there? Did you steal it from his body? You bastard, you had no right. It belonged to him. It was all he—”

O’Flare grabbed the same arm Felicia had. “Knox, you have to stop. You’re going to snap his neck.”

“If I do, his neck will fuse back together. My father’ll still be dead—”

“Knox.” The vamp’s voice was barely half a whisper. “My—my son.”

Felicia’s gasp was drowned out by Knox’s.

O’Flare slowly withdrew his hold on Knox, and Knox removed his hand.

Felicia couldn’t see the vamp’s face, but she saw the bunching of Knox’s shoulder muscles and the way they seemed to ripple with tension. She heard the hope that edged his voice when he said, “Father?”

Felicia clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle her moan. The word had been spoken in Knox’s voice, but at the same time in the voice of a very young boy who was afraid to believe that something special had just been given to him.

“What? How?”

Suddenly, Knox stood, fists clenched, and stared down at the vamp he believed to be his father. “Who turned you?” Knox spat out. “What vamp gave up his life to turn a traitor?”

“Not . . .” the vamp whispered, shaking his head.

“Damn you!” Knox turned on his heel and walked past Felicia, who was still on the ground where he’d pushed her, without a backward glance. When he was about thirty feet away, he stopped and braced his hand against a tree. Slowly, Felicia got to her feet and walked to the pile of their supplies. She searched through it until she found a knife.

“Felicia . . .” O’Flare said gently, but she ignored him.

Swiftly, she cut her wrist.

Stumbling back to the vamp, she paused and looked at O’Flare, then Lucy and Wraith. “Will you—will you hold him?” Implicit in her plea was her certainty that once the vamp tasted her blood, it would likely want more. A hell of a lot more.

They scrambled to obey her. While O’Flare restrained the vamp’s head, Lucy and Wraith each grabbed one of his arms. Felicia knelt beside the vamp, nudged his chin to open his mouth, and turned her wrist so that a stream of blood dropped into his mouth.

The vamp choked initially, but then he swallowed. Almost instantly, his eyes popped open, wild with thirst. He moaned and immediately tried to sit up. To reach for her. He couldn’t. The others, with obvious effort, held him away from her.

She gave him as much as she could spare, knowing that Knox would need the rest to get them out of here. Unable to help herself, she looked at him. His face was still turned away, but he was hitting the tree, over and over again, with both fists as if it were a punching bag. Even with the distance between them, Felicia could see the dark blood that smeared his knuckles.

“Keep him down,” Felicia said soundlessly. She saw O’Flare flinch and wondered at it, but it was a vague thought, coming to her through what felt like layers of ice. Funny, she wasn’t cold anymore. But neither was she warm.

She was nothing. Numb. It was as if the pain had finally become too much for her and she’d escaped to another time. Another place.

Oh, how she wished she’d found it sooner.

With slow, determined strides, she approached Knox. Sensing her, his arms dropped to his sides. She stared at them and the way his blood dripped into the snow, staining the stark white with spots that quickly blended into abstract patterns. The wounds closed within seconds.

“You need to feed so you can teleport the team out,” she said, proud that her voice was clear and steady.

When he didn’t answer, she looked up, wondering if she would see distaste on his face. Disgust. She wasn’t sure if she could take that, she thought. She just didn’t know.

Instead of disgust, his face was twisted into lines of grief and regret. “Felicia, I’ m sorry.”

“Me, too,” she said. She lifted her arm, holding it straight out and offering him the wrist she’d just used to feed his enemy. “Drink. Please. So we can all go home.” Suddenly, she frowned. “Hunt?”

Knox shook his head. “He’s obviously dead or he’s run off with the antidote.”

She didn’t argue with him. She simply held her wrist up farther. “Drink.”

Reaching out, Knox gently took her wrist. He stared down at the wound. Shook his head again. “Felicia, love, I—I—”

“Please,” she choked out, her voice and body beginning to shake. “Please just drink. I know you hate me. I’ve always known it. You hate that I’m human. You hate that part of you and you hate yourself for wanting me. That’s why I fought you. Not because of Noella. Not because you wouldn’t marry me. But please spare me any more. Please just drink.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said again.

“Drink,” she screamed.

Closing his eyes, Knox took a deep breath. When he opened them, she saw his determination. Slowly, he pulled her forward, ignoring her wrist. Willingly, she tilted her head. One more time, she thought. She’d let him have her vein one more time.

And when his fangs pierced through her skin and began to draw out her blood, she kept her arms by her side rather than pull him closer. She compressed her lips together rather than release the moan of pleasure fighting to escape. And she held back her tears, her love, her regret, her pain.

She held back everything of herself even as she gave him everything inside her.

 

 

Knox was panicking. With almost fanatical speed, he teleported the team back to the same tunnel beneath the Vamp Dome where he’d found his mother, Felicia, and the children. Of course there was no one there now, but he swiftly set Lucy down. Then Wraith. Then O’Flare.

When he was back in North Korea, Knox strode toward Felicia, who was once more kneeling next to the vamp—his father. “Let’s go.”

She shook her head. “Search inside first. For Hunt—”

“You already checked. He’s gone. So is the antidote.” His eyes shifted to the basket of vials she’d brought out. “Or maybe—”

“You don’t believe that and neither do I. But I might have missed something. Maybe Hunt’s hurt. Maybe he was killed. Maybe the antidote is still inside. I need you to double-check, and you can’t take me back first. You might—you might need to feed again before you can bring your father—I mean, the vamp—back.”

When Knox scowled, Felicia lifted her chin. “I know what you’re thinking, but you can wrap him in a blanket. That way, you don’t touch his skin. You’ll be able to transport him.”

Knox remained quiet. Fabric didn’t affect vamps the way it obviously affected Wraith. It was the proximity of one vamp to another that prevented teleportation, not the actual touching of their skin. But he knew she’d fight him if he tried to teleport with her now. Plus, she was right. He needed to confirm whether Hunt or the antidote was inside. “Stay here,” he commanded, then teleported swiftly back into the compound.

He ran down the hall where he’d last seen Hunt. Opening and closing doors, he searched every room, every possible hiding space. He pulled open the green door that the werewolf had told him about. It led into a lab but Felicia had already swept it clean. Shouting Hunt’s name, Knox searched the rest of the wing.

There was no sign of him.

No sign of foul play.

No blood on the floor suggesting he’d been wounded.

Bastard, Knox thought. Filthy traitor. Just like—

Knox shook his head. No, he wouldn’t think of his father or how he’d escaped. Or who’d turned him. There was nothing he could do about it now, just as he couldn’t know whether Jacques Devereaux had been lying about Prime. Granted, his father was now a vamp, but maybe he’d figured out a way to lie. Or maybe turned vampires
could
lie . . . But no, he told himself. Knox’s gut told him his father hadn’t been lying. It told him Prime
had
betrayed him. Betrayed them all. For that, he would suffer.

But there’d be time for that soon enough when he had Felicia back in the Dome. Then he’d come back and get the truth from his father, once and for all.

Knox froze. Then what was he going to do? Kill the man his mother obviously still loved? And then what? He knew what he
wanted
to do. Get down on his knees for pushing Felicia. Or worse yet, rejecting her because he’d been so damn thrown by what he’d thought was Mahone’s betrayal and by the shocking reappearance of his father.

He’d seen the look in her eyes. She’d seen his doubt and suspicion. The suspicion that Prime had planted.

Prime, who’d taken the antidote—the thing that could save their race—and perverted it. He’d probably contaminated it, maybe even before Barker’s death, so that humans would think it was poisonous. Why? So he could control it. So he could dole it out to who he wanted and when, like with the North Koreans, manipulating his clan’s salvation like a chess piece.

Ultimately that kind of power and control was what Prime savored, and he’d been willing to kill anyone—vamps or humans—who got in his way.

The fact that he might have placed one particular human in danger would ensure his death. Only, Knox had probably hurt Felicia the most.

He wondered, for the very first time, whether he deserved to have someone like Felicia. Whether being with him would be a burden rather than a blessing.

Her life had already been so hard. What could he bring to it besides more pain? Even if he swore his fidelity and married her exactly as he’d dreamed of, she’d always be the outsider in his clan. She’d also be marked as a vamp’s wife by her own people, many of whom would see that pejoratively.

Could he really do that to her?

Would she even give him the chance now?

He didn’t know, but that had nothing to do with the fact that he’d die to protect her.

Swiftly, Knox ran outside and grabbed the box Felicia had filled with vials from the lab. He then teleported to the Dome, not back to the tunnel where the others waited, but to the Dome’s own lab. Several of his scientists jerked at his sudden appearance, but recovered quickly. “Store these and begin classifying them immediately,” he ordered swiftly, not waiting for their assent before he transported back to Felicia.

Only, she wasn’t there. And neither was his father.

Disoriented, he turned, searching the grounds and calling her name. He was in the right place. The pile of supplies was right beside him. He popped inside the compound once more and searched there.

Nothing.

He searched the entire perimeter outside.

He searched each of the smaller buildings that were, as expected, empty but for numerous crates and vehicles.

He called her name until he was hoarse.

Finally, he fell to his knees in the snow.

There was only one explanation. She’d left him. She’d fed his father, giving him the strength to teleport them away. Who knew where they could be? Likely somewhere as far away from him as she could get. Some place where he’d never find her.

“Felicia,” he roared.

No, he thought. He wasn’t going to let her go. He wasn’t going to give her up. He’d find—

Knox heard the footsteps behind him a second too late. “Sorry about this,” Hunt said, just as something solid slammed into the back of Knox’s head. Pain exploded behind his eyes and he felt himself falling forward.

Ice pushed against his face and he blacked out.

T
eleporting with Knox’s father turned out to be quite a bit more painful than traveling with Knox. Whether it was because of her weakened state from feeding Knox and his father, or Jacques Devereaux’s weakened state, or simply that he hadn’t had as much practice as his son when it came to teleporting, Felicia screamed in pain when they landed. Her limbs tangled with Jacques’s and they both tumbled to the ground. Felicia barely missed hitting her head on a pile of rubble. Stunned, she lay on the ground, aware that her face was scratched up and that various sharp rocks were poking through her clothing. Breath hitching in and out of her, Felicia raised herself on one arm. “Jacques?”

He lay a few feet in front of her, flat on his back, staring up into the dark sky. He turned his head toward her. “I’m—I’m okay.” Painfully, he got to his feet despite the fact he nearly fell twice.

Felicia stood as well. “Where—where are we?”

“France. In the garden of the home I shared with Bianca, Knox, and later Zeph.”

Felicia’s confusion had to be self-evident. Nothing about the rocky terrain, overgrown by weed and debris, resembled any garden Bianca would ever have. A few yards in the distance stood a castle made of stone, marble, and tile. While it had probably been glorious at some point in the past, it was now in disrepair, with the top of the front tower completely gone, a few winding stairs still visible. “You lived here with them?”