One Lucky Vampire (15 page)

When Nicole hadn’t returned by the time he finished, Jake moved into the living room and up to the railing overlooking the lower living room to listen, relaxing when he heard the murmur of voices from below. When silence fell and he heard the door close and the click as it was locked, he continued on to his room. His head was killing him and since immortals weren’t supposed to get sick, it had to be a tension headache. Perhaps lying down would help. He hoped it would. Jake didn’t know if seven years of pain-free living had made him less tolerant to pain or what, but this headache was killing him.

Jake didn’t bother turning the lights on in his room; he didn’t really need them anyway. The moonlight coming through the window was enough for him to be able to navigate his way to the bed. He lay down on top of the blankets and tried to relax, but the pounding in his head made that impossible. He closed his eyes, opened his eyes, turned on one side and then the other before returning to his back, and finally gave up. Lying there he had nothing to think about but how much his head hurt. It just seemed to make it worse.

Getting up, he headed back to the kitchen. It was empty. Nicole had no doubt gone back to work. Perhaps cooking would distract him from the pain. Jake opened the refrigerator and considered the contents. He could get a start on the next day’s dinner. Or maybe he should be cooking Nicole another meal for today. Technically, what he had served as dinner had really only been Nicole’s second meal of the day. It might have been her lunch. It was his lunch. He normally didn’t have dinner until much later in the day, himself, and he kept hours similar to hers.

Frowning, Jake closed the refrigerator and headed downstairs to ask her if she wanted another meal later and what time that would be.

As usual, the blinds were up on the French doors to the studio and Jake could see her hard at work. She wasn’t wearing her headphones yet, so he tapped lightly at the door. Nicole glanced around with surprise and then smiled and waved him in.

“How are you feeling?” she asked with concern as she set her paintbrush down. Frowning, she added, “You’re really pale, Jake. Are you coming down with something?”

“No. I never get sick. It’s just a headache,” he assured her, and then quickly changed the subject. “You’ve only eaten twice today, and I wondered if you wanted another meal tonight?”

Nicole tilted her head briefly, considering the question, and then said, “Maybe a sandwich or salad or something. I can grab it myself though. You aren’t feeling well.”

“It’s okay, I can make it,” he assured her. “This is just a tension headache. It will go away eventually.”

“If it’s a tension headache, why don’t you try a dip in the hot tub?” she suggested. “It might help.”

Jake blinked at the suggestion. He was surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself and he was willing to try anything to rid himself of the damned pulsing in his head. “Yeah, I think I will,” he said finally. “Is there anything you want before I do?”

“No. I’m good,” Nicole assured him.

Jake nodded and headed for the door, saying, “I’ll let you get back to work then.”

“Okay. Feel better.”

Jake closed the door and headed back upstairs. He was in his room before he realized he didn’t know what time Nicole wanted to eat. He’d ask after his dip in the hot tub, Jake decided, pausing in front of the dresser and then frowning as he realized he hadn’t brought his swimsuit.

Shrugging, he stripped out of his clothes and pulled on his bathrobe, then went to grab a large towel out of the bathroom. The hot tub was outside the sliding glass doors of Nicole’s studio, but he’d noticed while in her studio that while she left the blinds open on the windows along the back of her studio, the blinds for the door were closed. The sun rose on that side, and no doubt shone right in through the sliding glass doors in the morning. He supposed she kept them closed to avoid it heating up the room and glaring on her work. Whatever the case, with the blinds closed it should be okay if he went without a swimsuit.

N
icole was bebopping between paintings, headphones on and tunes cranked. The first song she’d put on was her present favorite, Pink’s latest, but it was near the end of the playlist. There were only three songs following it, so it seemed like she’d barely put it on when the playlist ended and silence filled her ears. Silence always seemed worse to Nicole when she had earphones on, it seemed to crowd into her head, blocking out everything else.

Grimacing, she shifted her headphones off her ears and crossed to the computer to start the playlist from the beginning. She’d just grabbed the mouse when muffled sounds from outside made her hesitate.

Leaving her headphones around her neck, Nicole turned her head so that one ear was to the window and listened. She’d opened the window a crack when she’d come in earlier. Unless it was an especially cold or windy night, she always had a window open. Nicole didn’t mind the smell of paint, it was her stock and trade after all, but it could get a bit strong if she didn’t open a window to let fresh air in to dilute it.

Frowning as she recognized the sounds as those of someone being sick, she took her headphones off altogether and walked over to the sliding glass doors. The blinds were closed and she didn’t open them right away, but tugged one of the slides aside to look out. In the next moment, she shoved them aside to unlock the door, tugged it open and rushed out.

“Jake?” she hurried to the hot tub, hardly aware of the cold snow under her bare feet as she rushed to aid the man. Jake was half upright and hunched over the far side of the hot tub, vomiting into the snow. If that was not enough to concern her, when she reached that side of the tub the white snow was splashed red in the overhead light. The man was vomiting blood . . . and a lot of it.

“Oh God,” Nicole gasped in dismay, and froze, gaping at it briefly. But when Jake sagged against the side of the hot tub and began to slide back into it, she snapped out of her shock. Careful to avoid the bloodstained snow, she moved up to the side of the hot tub and tried to grab his arm to help him keep his head above water, but he waved her away.

“I’m okay,” Jake muttered.

“No, you’re not,” Nicole said grimly. Since he wouldn’t let her help that way, she turned and looked around for his robe or a towel. Spotting his robe hanging from the hook on the light post, she stepped away to grab it. By the time she turned back, Jake was stepping onto the hot tub seat in that corner and heaving himself out of the water to sit on the edge of the hot tub.

This made Nicole pause and gape again. The man was completely nude. Completely. Like, not a stitch on. A moan from Jake managed to distract her from this realization, at least enough that she gave first her head, then his robe a shake and wrapped it around his bare shoulders, making sure that the robe hung down along his hip and didn’t fall into the water. In the next moment, she was jumping back to avoid getting splashed as he suddenly hunched forward and began vomiting again.

The deep red blood on the snow in the stark light was rather shocking. For a moment, Nicole merely watched helplessly, but when Jake slid off the hot tub and dropped to his knees in the snow as he retched, she moved to his side again, trying to offer support if only with her presence. It was all she could do until he stopped retching. Then she dropped to her haunches beside him and pulled one robe-covered arm over her shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” she said quietly, pushing hard with her legs to get them both upright. Despite his getting himself out of the tub, Nicole had expected him to have to lean on her, but not to the extent he did, and they both staggered to the side once he was on his feet. Nicole reached for the lamp pole to catch herself and him both, letting out a small relieved breath when it prevented their toppling over.

She took a moment to shift her stance to counterbalance his weight on her and then started forward. Fortunately, while he was leaning on her heavily, Jake was still able to walk, slowly and in a stumbling manner, but they were moving.

Nicole steered him toward the sliding doors into the lower living room. It was obviously the way he’d come and it was a couple steps closer. It also didn’t have a bunch of easels in the way, which they were likely to bump into, send crashing to the ground, and then stumble over. By some miracle they made it inside and to the couch before Jake collapsed.

“It’s all right. You’re going to be all right,” Nicole said anxiously as she covered him with a throw. “I’ll call an ambulance. We’ll get you to a hospital—”

She broke off with amazement when Jake suddenly surged up, grabbing her arm. “No! No ambulance. No hospital. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” she said, trying to break his hold on her. His grip was desperately hard and she knew bruises were probably popping up under her shirtsleeve. “You’re throwing up blood. You need to go to the hospital.”

“The hospital won’t know what to do,” he said wearily, falling back on the couch, but still grasping her arm.

“Well, they’ll have a better idea than I do,” Nicole said. He was pale and sweating, but the blood in the snow outside was what worried her most. That was a very bad sign.

He shook his head. “No hospital.”

“Jake, I need to get you help. You’re sick. I—”

“Call Marguerite,” he interrupted.

“Marguerite?” Nicole stared at him with amazement. “What can she—?”

“She’ll know what to do. Call Marguerite,” Jake insisted, his eyes closing.

“Okay,” she said slowly, thinking she’d call Marguerite as he asked and
then
call an ambulance. Much to her relief he started to release her, but then tightened his hold again and opened his eyes.

“Promise me,” he insisted. “You’ll call Marguerite and not an ambulance.”

Nicole stared at him silently. His eyes appeared to be glowing, the silvery teal they’d been before now almost completely silver, and the whites around it bloodshot and sparkling with silver as if someone had dropped glitter in his eyes. It had to be a trick of the light, of course.

“Promise,” Jake insisted, his fingers tightening painfully on her arm.

“I promise,” she said at once.

Jake stared into her eyes for a moment and then gave the slightest nod and released her to drop back on the couch, murmuring, “Marguerite will know what to do.”

Nicole frowned slightly, but turned away and moved to grab the phone off the end table, only to set it back as she realized she didn’t know Marguerite’s number. It was in her cell phone contact list though, she recalled and moved quickly around the couch and end table to the door to the hall leading to the office and studio. “I’ll be right back, I have to get my cell phone.”

J
ake closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. He knew Nicole was in a panic, but so was he. He didn’t understand what was happening. He’d gone out to the hot tub in the hopes of ridding himself of the headache, and it had seemed to work. The pain had begun to ease almost before he’d got into the hot tub, the cold air seeming to ease his tension and clear his thinking. The pain had been completely gone within moments of stepping into the hot tub, only to be replaced by nausea instead. That had caught him completely by surprise. He hadn’t felt nausea in seven years. It was a most unpleasant sensation . . . and it had built so quickly. Within moments of getting in the hot tub, Jake had been leaning over the side, retching and throwing up blood, his body weak and shaking. Honestly, if Nicole hadn’t come out, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to get out of the hot tub on his own.

Jake didn’t understand what was happening. He was an immortal. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be able to get sick, yet he seemed to have the immortal version of the fricking flu. Vampire flu. Great. And a serious case of it. He was hot, feverish, weak, and throwing up blood . . . and his head was pounding like crazy again.

He was also crazy thirsty . . . and not for water. Jake supposed it was all the blood he’d thrown up, on top of already being low. He really should have taken care of the blood and fridge thing right away. That had been driven home when Nicole had helped him inside and bent over him on the couch. It wasn’t her sweet, spicy perfume he’d smelled, but her blood, and he’d been hard-pressed not to bite into her neck. Truthfully, if he’d had more strength and hadn’t felt so nauseous, Jake might not have been able to keep from chomping into the woman’s throat and sucking her dry, life mate or no life mate.

Another wave of nausea rolled over him and Jake reared up desperately from the couch. He knew he wouldn’t make it to the bathroom only ten feet away, but he had to try. He managed to get half upright before collapsing to his hands and knees on the floor. His back bowed as his stomach heaved and he stared at the cream-colored carpet with horror, and then a large red and black bowl was suddenly on the floor under his face. He caught a glimpse of Nicole’s hand before she released the bowl, and glanced to her as she straightened and moved away.

She was punching buttons on her cell phone he saw. Jake didn’t bother to try to listen, but turned his attention back to the bowl, recognizing it as the one that sat on the coffee table. It had held large frosted glass balls when he’d seen it earlier. They were gone now, which was a good thing, he decided, as blood poured out of his mouth and splashed into the bowl.

Halfway through this bout of heaving, Jake heard Nicole talking in quick anxious tones. He tried to stop and listen, but it was impossible. The blood was coming out whether he liked it or not. He had just given up the effort when he heard her say Marguerite’s name. Jake felt a moment’s relief knowing the woman would know what to say to keep Nicole from calling an ambulance. She would also know what to do in this situation . . . he hoped, and then gave up worrying about it as he began to heave again.

Eight

N
icole paced around the couch one more time and leaned to check the cold cloth she’d placed on Jake’s forehead. Once she felt that it was still cool to the touch, she quickly backed away and paced around the couch again, eyeing her patient from a relatively safe distance. Marguerite was the one who had suggested that. She hadn’t explained why she should keep her distance. Nicole was guessing the woman was worried that Jake was contagious. But if he had something contagious, then why were they both insisting she not take him to the hospital?