Nightwalker (15 page)

“H
ow long will this take?” Takala glanced over at the agent Striker had called Doc. He was thin and reedy and had a pencil head with a mop of carrot-red hair. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt and carried a large briefcase. And he was definitely no doctor.

“Just about done.” Doc tapped the swollen sides of the leeches.

Striker had left her in what he called the command center, which was just a suite at the end of the hall from her own room. It was decorated in generic red and blue paisleys and stripes and had a living area and small bar. Several doors led to, she guessed, bedrooms. Striker had made Brawn exit the room with him and left Takala alone with Katalinga and Doc for the bloodletting. Takala guessed Striker thought she'd be more comfortable with a woman present. But it hadn't worked. Something about
being in a room with Doc was distressing no matter who was with her.

She would have preferred that Striker stayed, but she knew he couldn't handle the sights and smells of her blood. In fact, he'd just left her here and exited without saying a word. Katalinga had done all the explaining of what would happen to Takala under Doc's aid.

Takala noticed that Katalinga seemed fully recovered from her wound at the airport. The cleaners must have done the trick. She wore a double-knit blue pantsuit, striped red shirt, and blue suede boots, an outfit right out of the original
Avengers
set. She paced impatiently near the door, her catlike movements graceful, sleek and inaudible. Takala couldn't get Katalinga's shifter image out of her mind, and she could almost see her tail swaying as she walked.

Takala's gaze shifted back to Doc. “Using the leeches seems like we've stepped back in history four hundred years.”

“Actually, leeches are used in medicine today to drain excess blood. You just don't hear about it.”

“So this is the only accepted way to take my blood.”

“The only way a vampire likes it. Needles give off a plastic metallic taste, and my little babies here—” he gazed down at the squirming worms on her arm as if mesmerized “—leave no aftertaste. It's definitely the preferred method for a true sampling.”

“Oh.” Takala refused to look at her arm.

Instead she watched Doc's T-shirt ripple as the leeches on his chest writhed against his skin. Not a much more pleasant sight. She was thankful he hadn't lifted his shirt
when he'd pulled off the leeches. He'd just slid a hand underneath and come out with a handful of wriggling slimy black parasites. She couldn't figure out what type of creature Doc was, and at the moment she wasn't in the mood to ask him, but bloodsuckers seemed to play a major role in his existence. He gave new meaning to the term
leech.

“Well, it looks as if we're almost done here.” Doc bent and examined the leeches, probing the ones hooked to her arm one last time. “Did you know they have light-sensitive cells called eyes right here?” He pointed to the head of one. “And they have male and female reproductive organs.”

“Hmm, how interesting!” Takala nodded, acting fascinated, but learning way more than she wanted or ever needed to know about leeches.

“My little darlings have done their part. They didn't hurt you, did they?” He smiled and wore the expression of a dog owner whose dog just bit you, his yellowish teeth glistening with thick saliva.

“They didn't,” she said. They were just way up there on the gross-factor scale.

“It's the
hirudin
they secrete.”

“What's that?” She wondered how much hirudin Doc drooled on his pillow at night.

“Chemical they secrete that keeps the blood from thickening so they can drink it easier. And it deadens the pain of the extraction. That's why they're so much better than needles. No waste, no pain, nothing to throw away later. Au naturel.”

Takala wanted to tell him she didn't see anything
natural about having parasites attached to your body, but she kept that to herself.

Doc began pulling off his darlings and carefully putting them back under his shirt. He extracted the last of the engorged creatures from her forearm.

Katalinga paused near them, lifted her nose and inhaled deeply, a serene look on her face as if she couldn't get a large enough whiff of Takala's blood to satisfy her.

Takala noticed her blood must have hit Doc's bloodstream, for the whites of his eyes turned artery red. Then he tilted his head back and got this dreamy look on his face. “My, my, your blood is special. I feel as if I can do anything.” There was that slimy smile again.

“Lucky you. How about just finishing up here,” Katalinga said, motioning with her head toward the door from where they all knew Striker was impatiently waiting to enter.

Doc gave Takala an understanding look, sobered quickly and regained his composure. He blew on the eight red spots on her arm, his breath hot on her skin and smelling a lot like a swamp in the middle of summer. The wounds disappeared right before her eyes.

“Perfect,” he said.

“So, how will my blood get on the street?” Takala asked.

“The leeches will distribute it.”

“And you'll dispense them?”

Katalinga said, “Doc will get your blood to the right places. He's in big demand in the vampire community.”

“Abso-freakin'-lutely. Command my own price.” He made a sour face at Katalinga and added, “When I'm not doing jobs for B.O.S.P.”

What did Striker hold over Doc's head to force him to work for B.O.S.P? He spoke with a definite American accent, not French. Did he patronize only vampires and go wherever he was needed or forced to work?

“You're paid well enough.” Katalinga cut her cat eyes at him.

“I will be this time. One taste and her blood will be some of the most expensive I've ever sold. Definitely a bidding war.”

“Just get the right bidders,” Katalinga said.

Takala asked, “What if Raithe isn't among the bidders?”

“He has spies everywhere,” Doc said. “Trust me, when the buzz about the quality of your blood gets around, he'll send an emissary.”

“How will they know who to contact?” Takala asked.

“Don't worry, this isn't the first bidding war I've had.” Something ugly blazed in Doc's eyes. “It'll all be set up properly. I'll sell you to the highest bidder in no time flat.”

“Wow, I've never been a commodity before.”

“Consider it a mark of distinction,” Doc said with a greasy grin.

Takala didn't feel very distinguished as she watched the head of a leech emerge above Doc's collar, then slither back down. She hoped she would never have to work with him again. She gulped and averted her gaze; then there was a loud, succinct knock.

Katalinga opened the door and said, “We're done.”

Brawn eyed Katalinga and looked at her as if the twenty minutes they had been apart made him nervous.

Takala wondered if Katalinga knew Brawn was in love with her. How come she could read other guys' feelings, just not in her own boyfriends? Something was definitely wrong with her.

“Where's Dark?” Katalinga asked, a slight, barely perceptible purr in her voice that hadn't been there a moment ago. It sounded huskier, a tad sexier. Maybe she wasn't as oblivious to Brawn's fondness for her as she seemed.

So, there might be romance ahead for these two. She hoped it ended better than her own relationships.

“Said he had to leave the building,” Brawn said. “He'll be back here any minute. Left orders for me to take Doc wherever he needed to go.”

“Who's watching Lilly Smith?” Takala asked.

Brawn said, “Don't worry, she can't move a muscle without us knowing. Want a peek?”

“Sure.”

Brawn pulled out his phone and leaned over toward Takala.

In the screen, Takala viewed Lilly watching television. The screen flicked shadows over her face. She had that zombie, dead-eyed look of someone who had overdosed on the tube.

“She hasn't budged,” Brawn said.

Hiding out didn't seem to bother her. Takala guessed she was used to it in her line of work. She hoped Lilly stayed there. At least she was safe. “Thanks,” she said.

Brawn snapped his phone shut.

Doc gathered up his black bag and took Takala's hand. “Been a pleasure.”

She stared at his squirming chest and hoped they never met again. What she said was, “Same here.”

Doc grinned and watched her as Brawn escorted him out the door, asking him where he needed to go.

Katalinga was about to walk Takala back to her room, but Striker materialized. His lean, handsome face grim, his purple eyes ominously focused on her. She felt the tension emanating from him, an intense impatience.

What did he have in mind? His voice kept repeating in her head. “We'll find a way.” To make Raithe believe they were mates. She tried very hard not to give away her nervousness and excitement, but her heart fluttered like it had wings and her palms grew clammy.

His eyes raked over her body as if he'd like to be the first bidder for her blood. “I'll walk you back to your room,” he said, his mesmerizing voice filled with that self-assured, confident timbre that could charm and allure but also strike terror into anyone he chose, a silver-tongued devil. Still, truth be known, she'd missed him the half an hour they'd been apart.

Katalinga nodded, an amused twinkle in her eyes. Then she turned on her heels and walked back into the command center.

“Did Doc treat you well?” Striker asked with genuine concern in his voice…and something warmer, something much more than casual interest.

“He did, thanks.” She felt her insides shift around in the wrong spots, felt her body grow feverish, responding
to his dark smoldering glances, his nearness so charged it was as if he were already touching her.

She walked beside him and forced herself to breathe.
Calm down, or he'll know how he stirs you up.
She kept her gaze on the blue and red paisley rug and wallpaper as she made her way to the stairwell, but her mind wouldn't budge from him.

They hadn't spoken aloud in the five minutes it took to descend four flights of stairs, but their bodies were doing a heck of a lot of communicating on their own.

Their brooding silence drenched them both in tension, strung them as tight as barbwire. She felt something loud that stirred between them, a hunger, some charged impulses that radiated like connected electrical wires. Her nerves were frayed, excited, tempted.

She paused at her door, a hand on the knob. “Good night,” she said.

She made the mistake of looking at him.

He stood a foot from her, his eyes large and liquid, caressing her with an intensity that unnerved her to the core, but also teased and tempted and demanded exploration.

They both stepped toward each other at the same time, but he did not reach out to hold her. So much concentration and resolve filled his expression, he could have been moving a mountain. Takala was determined not to make the first move, though her arms hurt from wanting to reach up and wrap them around his neck.

“Is—um—something wrong?” she asked, her voice tight.

“No, everything is as it should be.”

“Good. Doc will get my blood out on the street and
maybe we'll be hearing from Raithe soon and we can be done with this whole thing.”

“One can only hope.”

The enthralling lilt of his voice hadn't changed, but his words stung her into silence. She half expected him to disagree with her.

Another moment of his gaze eating her alive, standing so still his feet looked rooted to the ground.

When Takala couldn't take the uncomfortable uneasiness any longer, she said, “Well, good night.” She forced herself to turn and run for the cover of her room.

She slammed the door and leaned against it. Big gasps of air gushed through her open mouth. Her body broke out in a sweat as if she'd finished a marathon. A muscle in her right eye quivered from tension. She heard his door close; then her chest deflated and she banged the back of her head against the door. Get a grip. Keep her professional distance; that's what she had to do. And they hadn't addressed the issue of how they would make Raithe believe she was Striker's mate. That scared her more than anything. Would she have to let him bite her? Drink her blood? She knew it was going to be an arduous night, and she headed for the shower.

 

Striker walked to his window, the scent of Takala still filling his senses, pumping through his veins. He had felt her lust and his own, and it had taken all his determination and strength of mind to not take her and make her his. But he knew how dangerous that would be. It would take only one weak moment, one little slip.

Warmth was one of his weaknesses, and Takala's
body ran hotter than a normal human's because of her metabolism. Yes, her heat drew him. When he had lived like Raithe, out of control, he had preferred female vampires for sexual pleasure, something he had admitted to Takala, but he had not told her the whole story. Early on, he had learned the most positive thing about women of his own kind: they weren't warm-blooded. They didn't make him aware of the changes he had suffered when he had turned vampire, like having no internal body temperature and not being able to hold warmth in his body. He had all but forgotten what it felt like to press a warm human female mouth to his, the moist heat of it. And kissing Takala Rainwater, feeling the unusually intense hotness of her lips had inflamed all the dormant yearning in his own body.

He cursed his weakness. Through the “dark ages”—yes, that was how he termed the unbridled centuries of his life—human females had been his chosen prey. During those years he hadn't had a conscience and had rarely denied himself anything, including a meal. But if he was being truthful, he had never confused lust with hunger. He had kept them separated until much later when he could no longer distinguish bloodlust from physical lust, and he realized how destructive living a life of dispensation and immoderation could be. That was when he'd known he would destroy himself if he didn't change. And he'd climbed onto the narrow and arduous road of making reparations for all the evil he'd done in his life. He hadn't strayed since, until Takala appeared.