Good, the Bad, and the Vampire (8 page)

“Mmm-hmm.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip and the whisper of friction sent a shiver up her spine. “I had a hunch that was the case. You strike me as a woman who's been burned more than once. But lucky for you I'm stubborn as a mule. I want to know you, Trixie. I want to know who you are…who you
really
are. Is that so bad? Forget the bloodmate stuff for now and let's just get to know each other.”

When Dakota's mouth covered hers, the world around her erupted in an explosion of color and light. His lips, warm and firm, melded over hers and his tongue gently but persistently sought hers. Trixie moaned and opened to him, her hands instinctively curling around his leather coat, tugging him hard against her.

He tasted like cinnamon, sweet and hot. It was those lollipops he was always sucking on. It had to be. No one could just
taste
like this. Or maybe
he
could. Damn. Whatever the reason, Trixie didn't care. All she could think about was getting more.

He grasped her face with both hands and groaned as he tilted her head, deepening the kiss, taking full control. His tongue lashed along hers, the intensity growing with each passing second. And with her body crushed between him and the tree, every nerve ending beneath her skin flared to life.

It was like being hooked up to an electrical current.

No live feed or any drug she'd taken as a human could compare to the taste and feel of this man. She held him against her, matching his greedy kiss with her own, and when the hard evidence of his desire dug into her hip, Trixie's fangs burst free.

“I can't get enough of you,” Dakota murmured against her lips. He lifted his head but kept her pinned against the tree. “You taste like summertime in Texas. Sweet and hot. Damn, girl. If I still breathed, I'd be suffocated by how much I want you.”

Trixie stilled. There was something in the tone of his voice. Gentleness? Emotion? Whatever it was, it made her nervous. If he wanted to get physical, that was one thing, but anything more than that was not happening.

Sex? That she could do.

Intimacy? Nope.

“Then why are you stopping?” She nipped at his lip. “Let's keep this going. As long as we don't do a blood exchange, we can avoid the full mate bonding. We can still fool around.” She pressed her breasts into the hard planes of his chest and grasped the buckle of his pants.

“What's your hurry?” He brushed his lips over her forehead and covered her hands with his, stopping her from going any further. “I said that I want to get to know you and I meant it.”

“That's what I'm trying to do,” she said before popping up on her toes and flicking her tongue over his lip. “Come on. Saddle up, cowboy.”

“No.”

“No?” Trixie said with more than a little incredulity. “You don't want me?”

“That's not what I said,” he murmured. “And I believe I've made it plain that I want you.”

“Great. Then let's go.” She tried to unbuckle his belt, but Dakota tightened his grip over her hands. Trixie fought the tickle of panic that flickered in her chest and let out a flippant laugh that didn't even convince her. “Well, it would be easier to do this if you didn't have clothes on.”

“That's true, but gettin' to know you doesn't involve gettin' naked.” His cocky grin widened. “At least, not yet.”

What. The. Hell. He was turning her down?

Anger and embarrassment flashed hard and fast as she yanked her hands away from his belt. Shoving him away from her, Trixie pushed her hair off her forehead, then folded her arms over her breasts. She couldn't think of the last time, or any time, a man had rejected her for sex.

“I should've known you wouldn't be able to seal the deal. All that swagger of yours is bullshit.”

Dakota didn't move but kept his narrowed steely gaze on her, studying her like some damn bug under a microscope. She knew that look. She'd been on the receiving end of the judgmental well-aren't-you-a-slut look plenty of times as a human.

“What's the matter? Didn't the women from your time have sexual freedom? You think I'm a slut because I want to fuck you without having a freaking conversation first?”

“This isn't about sex. Not by a long shot.” Hands on his hips, he looked her up and down. “And, no, I don't think you're a slut but I do think you're scared. And I sure as hell want to find out why.” He winked and said, “You can add that to my list of questions.”

She opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his list. Before she could respond, a woman's scream pierced the night. Fear bloomed bright in Trixie's chest.

Chelsea
.

* * *

Trixie's frightened voice shot into Dakota's mind as she bolted into the air like a bullet. The surprise of hearing her voice in his head, the sweet beauty of it, set him off balance for a split second—just long enough for Trixie to get ahead of him. Dakota swore under his breath and took off after her. It took only a few moments for him to catch up and match her speed, but he suspected that she barely noticed. The fierce, determined expression carved into her features spoke volumes as they zipped above the tree line and seared through the air side by side toward the cabin.

You watch your pretty little ass
. He touched her mind with his, praying she'd heed his warning.
I think your friend is mixed up with some—

She's a good girl
. Trixie shot back. Anger and fear laced her voice but she didn't take her eyes off the cabin.
You don't know anything about her.

Maybe not but you don't know as much as you think you do.

Damn it. Suzie warned me about this. I'll never forgive myself if I'm too late.

The gargoyle's scent grew stronger as they approached and Dakota scanned the area with his heightened senses. The same car from the other night was in the driveway but the area was hauntingly quiet. Too quiet.

Only death brought silence like this.

Movement in the air to his left captured his attention as they dived down to the gravel driveway. Dakota whipped out the stone dagger as he landed solidly on the ground and carefully surveyed the area. The door to the porch stood open, and golden light spilled out into the darkness. No further sounds came from inside. That could easily mean that the worst had already happened. Trixie landed silently beside him, but he grabbed her arm, preventing her from going any farther.

Let me go
. She tugged but he held fast.
I have to get in there.

Wait
. He shook his head slowly.
The scent is strong and it could still be here.

What are you talking about? The blood? That's her blood, Dakota. I know it
. Trixie's brow furrowed.
I have to get to her… She's hurt. Oh my God. I can hear her heartbeat, Dakota. It's fading
. Her voice shook and tears filled her eyes.
Please let me go. I have to help her. Damn it all. This is your fault. If I hadn't been out there wasting time with you, she wouldn't have gotten hurt.

Fine
. Her words stung like hell but he didn't flinch
. But I'm a sentry and you damn well better do as I tell you. Besides, you don't know what you're messin' with
. He pulled her closer and scanned the area around them intently, his enhanced vision revealing who or what could be hiding in the woods. The gargoyle's pungent aroma was fading and the trail was off to the west of them, toward the main road, which was probably where the coward ran.
You're gonna get yourself killed.

You don't understand
. Tears spilled down her cheeks and tugged at Dakota's withered excuse of a heart.
She's my daughter
.

Stunned by her admission, Dakota loosened his grip just enough for Trixie to yank her arm from his grasp. As she disappeared inside the house in a blur of speed, a renewed surge of hatred for gargoyles bubbled up. He closed his eyes and refocused his attention, immediately picking up on the gargoyle's scent. He snapped his head to the left and a growl rumbled in his chest as he leaped into the air, following the bastard's trail.

The smell of blood overwhelmed Trixie the instant she stepped inside the tiny cabin, but it was the first time in decades that it made her stomach turn. This wasn't just any human's blood…it was Chelsea's.

She'd been too late.

Clutching her belly with one hand, Trixie stood in the living room and tried to calm her quaking body, but it was useless. A sense of dread filled her as she moved through the house, surveying the wreckage. The sweetly decorated home, the one that Chelsea had worked so hard to maintain, was completely destroyed in the wake of what must have been an epic battle.

Trixie made her way toward the bedroom at the back of the cabin, following the horrifying sound of Chelsea's fading heartbeat. She wanted to run, to fly. But her body wouldn't cooperate. Fear and disbelief had her in their viselike grip and made her feel as though she was walking through a river of molasses.

She was rendered practically immobile by the idea of what she might find in that bedroom. Blood smeared the wooden floor of the hallway, and the sight turned Trixie's stomach. Mingled with the familiar scent of blood was the aroma of rotten flowers.

Trixie pushed the door open and let out a strangled cry. Chelsea was on the floor, unconscious and bleeding from several wounds to her chest. The white nightgown she wore was stained red and torn from whoever had attacked her, but amid the damage, it was evident she was no longer pregnant.

On the ground nearby lay the body of a creature Trixie had never seen before. It was covered in greenish-gray scaly flesh, its body contorted in death, its face frozen in mid-wail. It looked like something that hovered between man and animal. A high forehead gave way to long pointed ears. It had a flat nose, a mouthful of sharp-looking teeth, and large pair of leathery wings that were curled around the body in a macabre embrace. Long, daggerlike claws curled out from the bony, blood-covered hands.

Chelsea's blood.

Whatever that thing was, it was dead.

Dakota!
She screamed his name, praying he would hear her.
I need your help!

After what she'd said to him, basically blaming him for Chelsea getting hurt, she wouldn't be shocked if he didn't respond. Trixie launched herself across the room and knelt down next to her daughter. She pushed the matted, bloodied strands of hair from Chelsea's sweet face, gently lifting the girl's wounded body into her lap. Tears spilled down, blurring her vision. She glanced around the room frantically and spotted an empty cradle.

There was no sign of the baby anywhere.

“H-he took her,” Chelsea whispered in a shaky brittle voice. “He took Rebecca.”

Trixie stilled, and for the first time since the day Chelsea was born, she found herself staring into the beautiful brown eyes of her daughter. Trixie was no longer a ghost lurking in the shadows, but a mother holding her baby girl. Why had she waited? Why had she stayed away and listened to the stupid Presidium rules? If she hadn't, maybe none of this would have happened.

This wasn't Dakota's fault. It was entirely hers.

“I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner,” Trixie murmured. She cradled Chelsea in her lap and pressed a hand to her cheek. “I'm sorry.”

“I…I know you.” A flicker of recognition whispered across Chelsea's face. She licked her dry lips and between labored breaths she whispered, “You're the angel lady.”

“No.” Trixie's brow furrowed with confusion and she shook her head. “I'm no angel, Chelsea.”

“I-I saw you.” Her voice was weak and barely audible as her blood-spattered fingers went to the gold chain around her neck. “You gave me this and said you'd watch over me.”

“But I glamoured you,” Trixie said with a strangled sob. “You remember that night?”

“Yes.” She curled her hand around the necklace chain as another wave of pain racked her ravaged body. “He tried… It burned…”

“Shh.” Trixie held her tighter and gently moved the shredded nightgown so she could inspect the wounds. “Don't try to talk. It's going to be okay, but I need you to save your strength. We're going to take you some place safe and then I'm going to find your baby.”

“He…took her… Rebecca…” The words died on Chelsea's lips and her eyes rolled back in her head as she lost consciousness.

Trixie was about to scream for Dakota again when he appeared in the doorway. His towering frame filled the small space, making him seem even bigger than he was. Eyes wild and weapons drawn, he looked like death incarnate. Without a word, he went to the body of the creature, knelt down, and turned the body so its contorted, twisted face was turned toward the ceiling. Fury carved into his features, Dakota pressed one hand to the beast's chest and raised the other high. A gray dagger curled in his fist, he whispered, “Payback's a bitch, but I always settle my debts.”

“It's already dead, Dakota.”

“No it's not.” He seethed as he drove the dagger down and into the chest of the fallen creature.

Trixie held her daughter close and let out a shivering sound of awe as the body of the beast crackled and turned to gray stone before her eyes.

“
Now
it's dead.” He sheathed the knife beneath his coat. “It was in hibernation, trying to heal itself. The other one got away. I lost the trail about a half mile from the cabin, out on the main road. I think it had the baby with it, but I can't be sure. The scent of that thing was too strong.”

“We have to get Chelsea back to the Presidium.”

Trixie didn't have any clue what that
thing
was, but whatever
it
was had almost killed her daughter. She glanced out the window at the sky. The inky blackness of night was beginning to give way to the impending dawn, and panic clawed at her like the vicious self-defeating nightmare it was.

Sunrise was coming and their odds of making it back to the city before that were dwindling.

“She's in bad shape, Trixie.” Dakota squatted down next to them. Gone was the vicious sentry. The man across from her stared at her with empathy-filled eyes, and gentleness edged the deep timbre of his voice. “She's not gonna make it back to the city. You're gonna have to turn her now.”

“No.” Trixie shook her head furiously and held Chelsea tighter. “We can just give her some blood… It will heal her.”

“She's too far gone, baby.” Dakota shook his head. “Turnin' her is her only chance.”

“I-I can't do it. We have to get her back to the city. Xavier can help without turning her. He can heal her. I know he can.” Her lips quivered as she stroked Chelsea's cheek with one quivering finger. “Damn it all. I want her to have a normal human life. I wanted her to have what I never did.”

“She was mixed up with gargoyles.” Dakota settled his large warm hand over her arm reassuringly. “I'd say she's well past a normal human life.”

“Gargoyles? That's what that thing was?” Trixie flicked a glance at the hunk of stone in the middle of the room and a shiver whisked up her back. She'd heard about those creatures, about their viciousness and traitorous behavior, but she thought they were extinct. “What the hell was Chelsea doing hanging around with gargoyles? And why do you know so much about them?”

“She may not have known what they were. They look human when they want to.” He sent a furious glare at the stone creature at the center of the room. “That's how I knew it wasn't dead. They shift to human form when they die, unless that dagger or the sun gets 'em first. That one was in hibernation tryin' to heal itself.”

Trixie sniffled and shook her head with her eyes squeezed shut, sending streaks of her mascara streaming down her cheeks.

“I could do it,” Dakota said quietly. His serious silvery gaze met hers. “I've never turned anyone before but I know what to do. She should be in the transition sleep for at least two days. We can start the process now, stay here until sundown, and then get her back to the Presidium to let her ride it out.” Trixie was about to argue with him but his mouth set in a firm line before he whispered, “It's her only chance, Trix.”

Trixie pressed a hand to the bloody wound on Chelsea's chest and grief welled. The beat of the girl's heart weakened with every passing second. Dakota was right. Time was about to run out. She had to make a decision. Either let Chelsea die here and now, or turn her into a vampire, something she might not want. Olivia had given Trixie a choice that night in the tunnels all those years ago and Trixie hadn't even hesitated. But not everyone embraced the life of a vampire with such enthusiasm.

“Don't you think she'll want to watch her baby grow up?” Dakota's voice drifted over Trixie like a warm blanket. “Would you give up the time you've had with
her
? It may not have been the way you wanted it but it was somethin'. You should allow Chelsea the same opportunity.”

“You're right. I wouldn't trade one minute of watching her grow up,” Trixie whispered.

While Dakota cleared off the bed to make room for Chelsea, Trixie leaned down and pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead. She slipped the necklace over Chelsea's head and quickly put it on herself.

“I love you, Chelsea.” The weight of the coin settled between her breasts, instantly putting her at ease to have this piece of her daughter with her. Somehow, some way, she knew it was all going to be okay. “I'll give this back to you when you wake up.”

“We'll do it in here. There's only the one set of windows to cover, and the hallway is long enough to keep out direct sunlight from the living room.” Dakota slipped his arms gently beneath Chelsea's body and rose to his feet with the unconscious woman cradled against him like a child. He strode to the bed and laid her out carefully before settling her hands on her belly. “Those drapes aren't heavy enough. We're gonna need to cover up the windows as much as we can. She'll be especially vulnerable during the transition.”

Trixie nodded her understanding but didn't move. Her feet felt like they were nailed to the floor and she didn't take her eyes off Chelsea. Anxiety and uncertainty fired through her but one thought rose above her flood of concerns. Trixie could not let her daughter die.

Dakota sat on the edge of the bed and gingerly lifted Chelsea's arm to his mouth. Trixie was completely fixated as he bared his fangs, pierced the soft flesh on Chelsea's wrist, and drank. After a few moments, when her heart had almost stopped beating, he licked the wound closed and laid her hand on her belly before using his fangs to make an incision on his own wrist.

With heartbreaking gentleness, he cradled her neck and lifted her head from the bed, bringing his wrist to her lips. His life-giving blood dripped into her partially open mouth. Nothing happened; was there a chance it wasn't going to work? But after a few seconds, Chelsea's lips closed over his wrist and she began to drink. He must have determined that she'd had enough and pulled his wrist away. Dakota laid her head back on the pillow and rose from the bed.

“Now we wait.” He pulled his sleeve down, the wound on his wrist already healed. “We'll take her back to the city after sundown.”

“That's it?” Trixie asked nervously. She went to Chelsea's side and found her stone still and totally lifeless—the sleep state of a vampire. “I've never seen anyone turned before. I mean, I saw Maya in the transition sleep but I didn't see the actual blood exchange. It was…” Words escaped her as her gaze fell over her daughter's motionless form. A dull ache bloomed in her chest and fresh tears welled when the full weight of Dakota's gift sank in. “Thank you for saving her, Dakota.”

Silence filled the room and he was gone.

She gathered one of Chelsea's hands in hers before stretching out on the bed next to her. How many times had she dreamed of sleeping by her daughter's side, of being there to kiss away the nightmares? Her feeling of happiness was short-lived though. What might happen when Chelsea woke up? There would be confusion. There always was, even for vamps that knew what they had been through. But Chelsea was completely unaware of the choice Trixie had made for her.

Would she thank Trixie for bringing her into the vampires' world, or would she hate her for it?

“Found what we need.” A moment later, Dakota reappeared with some black garbage bags and a roll of duct tape in hand. “None too soon, either. It's almost sunrise.”

Trixie swiped at her tear-stained face while Dakota covered the windows. Silently and swiftly he made sure the room would be free of sunlight, but there was something different about him. A shift in his demeanor that gave her pause, as well as the way he seemed to avoid looking at her.

“What is it, Dakota?” She studied him closely. “I feel like there's something you're not telling me.”

“I'm not sure if she knew.” He secured the edges of the garbage bags with the duct tape and nodded toward the stone creature on the floor. “About the gargoyles, I mean. Poor girl got the shock of her life today when that one came after her.”

“How do you—” Trixie stopped mid-sentence and nodded as she realized how he could know such information. “Right. Her blood memories.”

“They weren't clear, at least not as clear as with most humans. It's probably because she'd already lost so much blood, but hell if I know. My vampire training wasn't exactly regular, but I promise, as her maker, I'll do right by Chelsea,” he said quickly. “Plus, she'll have that whole crazy coven helpin' her out. Hell, Maya will probably want to give her a vampire makeover.”

“Right.” Embarrassment and a flicker of jealously fired through Trixie. Dakota now knew her daughter better than she did. Now that he was Chelsea's maker, this was only the beginning. “Thanks again for what you did. You didn't have to do it. I mean, I know that being a maker is a big responsibility…and…you two will have a special bond now.”