Tempted in the Night (21 page)

The implications of what they were about to do hit Jess with the sobering intensity of a bucket of ice-cold water.

"John, wait…"

He covered her mouth with his as he tried to shove her pants down none too gently. What had started as potentially romantic was rapidly turning into something unpleasant and frightening.

Twisting her head, she broke free of John's kiss and tried again to get his attention. "John, please,
get
off me. I don't want to do this."

He'd moved from her mouth to her neck, and she felt the pressure of his teeth against her skin. It was too early for him to have fangs, but even his going through the motions of biting her was more than she wanted to endure.

She bucked her body, hoping the sudden motion would get his attention, but when he raised his head to look at her, his eyes were burning brightly, and she knew that he was still in the throes of whatever fever had held him all day.

With her pants pulled down past her hips, John reached for her panties and in a single harsh tug, ripped them off her body, leaving her exposed.

A shudder ran through her as fear gripped her. John wasn't himself. She knew this, yet the knowledge offered little comfort at the moment. She lay there feeling helpless. And then that part of her that refused to be a victim took charge, forcing the paralyzing fear to fade.

When John lifted himself up slightly to pull down his briefs, Jess brought her leg up and kicked him in the chest as hard as she could. As he fell back, she pulled herself free and scrambled up, nearly tripping when her feet tangled in her jeans.

She grabbed her sword from the table and swung around to face John, who hadn't moved.

The unnatural light in his eyes faded as he looked around, maybe realizing, for the first time, where it was they were. When he looked at her again, he seemed confused.

"Where… what…" His voice held the raspy quality of a heavy smoker's and he had to clear it before trying to speak again. "What happened to your clothes?"

She couldn't believe he didn't know, so she said nothing as she watched him closely. She was fairly certain that after what he'd suffered with the fever and the
chupacabra
attack he didn't have the strength to rush her, but she'd been surprised by his earlier
behavior
, so she kept her sword raised and ready.

"Jess?" he implored her.

"You… got carried away."

She tried to be polite—put a positive spin on it—but he saw through it. "Are you telling me that I did that?" He gestured to her state of undress, and she self-consciously eyed the blanket just beyond her reach. "I almost raped you?" He must have seen the answer in her eyes because he swore and shook his head. "Jess, I…" His voice broke and he took a breath before going on. "I'm sorry. I…" He suddenly looked ill. "I'm so, so sorry. It won't happen again. I promise."

She flinched at the self-disgust she'd heard in his tone. He seemed genuinely upset. Deciding to take the chance that the man she knew was back in control, she laid the sword on the table and quickly snagged the blanket from the floor so she could wrap it around herself.

Once she was covered, she felt less vulnerable and more able to be sympathetic. "I don't think you knew what you were doing," she assured him. "If I hadn't stopped you, you would have stopped yourself." She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him or herself with this last statement, so she changed the subject. "You gave us quite a scare last night."

"Us?"

"Yes.
Me and Harris."

"You met him?"

"Yes. He brought you back here last night. You had been attacked by a
chupacabra
." She sounded like she was reporting nothing more exciting than the weather and realized she was suffering from the effects of shock and fatigue working in tandem. She welcomed the mind-numbing effect it was having on her. "Things were spotty for a while. We didn't know if you would pull through."

"Thanks." He still hadn't moved, and she realized he was doing his best not to frighten her. At least, she assumed that was the reason. "There are some things we should discuss," she began. "Being attacked by a
chupacabra
means you've been injected with the venom." She wasn't sure the best way to tell him and found herself tripping over the words. "You see, it's the venom that, well…"

"I'll become a changeling, like Mac and Dirk."

She stared at him, stunned. "You know about them, then?"

"I don't know that much," he admitted. "But Charles did try to tell me a little about them before I flew down here. I won't pretend to understand what he said."

She nodded her head. "As the name might suggest, you'll experience some changes." It was difficult for her to speak without using her hands, but when she forgot and almost let go of the blanket, she saw his gaze heat up. "We can talk about it later. I think, right now, we could both use a rest." She glanced at the couch. "Do you need help getting to your room? Or are you going to stay down here?"

"I'll be fine."

She nodded, feeling like she was seconds from hitting the proverbial wall. She went to the front door and opened it. On the porch was a package from the hardware store, no doubt containing items she'd forgotten that she'd ordered. Leaving it there, she closed the door and headed upstairs.

John watched her go, then leaned against the couch and put a hand to his face. He rubbed his temples, thinking if he rubbed hard enough, he might wake up and discover that he hadn't almost raped Jess. At the very least, maybe he could rub away the memory of the unshed tears and hurt in her eyes when she'd looked at him.

As he continued to sit there, he noticed that he wasn't feeling right. It wasn't so much that he was in pain—although his neck and throat hurt like a son of a bitch—it was more that he just didn't feel like his old self.

He was beyond tired, which he attributed to the attack, and the light coming in through the front windows seemed unusually bright. He was hungry, but wasn't sure what it was he wanted to eat.

From upstairs, he heard Jess turn on the shower and had to tear his mind away from the thought of Jess standing before him with her clothes ripped to shreds. He'd come down here to protect her, not have sex with her—and certainly not against her will.

He pushed himself to his feet and noticed that he felt a little light-headed, so he angled himself over to the couch and collapsed on it. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of running water, letting it lull him into a state of deep relaxation. He must have fallen asleep because when he woke up again, all was quiet upstairs.

He looked around, trying to decide if he had enough energy to go upstairs. The sight of his jeans, lying in a crumpled heap not far off, caused him to realize that he was wearing only his briefs. He stood up, waited for the world to stop spinning, and slowly made his way to them. Picking them up wasn't as taxing as he'd thought, but when he straightened and his gaze fell on the dining room table, he received a shock. Piled on top were several spent bags of blood and IV tubing.

John immediately looked at the inside of his arms and noticed the needle marks where he'd been given a transfusion. Logically, he knew the attack on him had been serious, but seeing the spent bags of blood gave it a harsher reality.

He thought back, trying to recall his last memory from the evening before. He remembered following Harris when he ran after Brody. He'd tried to keep up, but the vampires had moved with incredible speed and John had soon fallen behind.

He remembered stopping at the cemetery to catch his breath, but the events after that were a blank. He tried to recall the
chupacabra
that attacked him, but could only conjure images of Harris's Lucy. Maybe it was better that he couldn't remember the incident, he thought.

Since he was already standing, he decided to go upstairs. With each passing moment, he felt better, which surprised him given that it had obviously taken six bags of blood to keep him alive.

He paused outside his bedroom, fighting the urge to apologize to Jess once more. He hated to think that he might have frightened her.

Instead of knocking on her door, he went into his room. Tossing his dirty jeans into the corner, he headed for the dresser. Gazing at his reflection in the mirror, he thought he looked worse than he felt. There were several gashes across his chest and back. Someone had closed them with butterfly bandages and the wounds were already healing.

There was another bandage at his neck and he pulled it off.
"Holy shit!"
He stared at the massive bruising and the two large holes on the side of his throat, suddenly glad that he couldn't remember the details of the attack.

Throwing the soiled bandage into the trash, he stepped out of his room and noticed the bathroom was unoccupied, so he walked down the hall to it. Closing the door, he crossed to the shower and started the water. When it was hot enough, he stepped beneath the water and let the heat seep into his sore muscles.

Finally he got the energy to soap off and when he felt clean, he got out. The shower had revived him enough so that he no longer felt like lying down. He wrapped the towel around his waist, went back to his room, and put on fresh clothes. Then he headed back downstairs.

He assumed that Jess was asleep, so when he entered the living room a minute later, he was surprised to see her.

"I thought you were upstairs," he said, walking into the room.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came down to clean up a bit." Her eyes were guarded as she watched him. "How are you feeling?"

"Not bad, considering."

She nodded and placed the folded blanket she'd been holding on the chair beside her. "That's good."

He didn't like this uncomfortable feeling between them but wasn't sure how to make things better. After a minute, he decided he had to say something—anything. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to hurt you—or frighten you. I've never tried to force a woman before. I wouldn't have said it was something I was capable of."

She gave him a hesitant smile. "You're not exactly your old self anymore."

"Well, I'm ashamed of what I did and I wanted you to know how sorry I was." Unable to stand still any longer, he paced the length of the room, stopping when he found himself standing in a beam of sunlight from outside. "Why is this not burning me? Changelings are half-vampire, so shouldn't I be going up in smoke or something?"

"You're not going to burst into flames if you go out in the sun." A small smile touched her lips as she spoke. "I'm sure you've seen Mac and Dirk out during the day."

He thought back.
"Not very often."

"That's because the vampire half of you slows down during the day. You'll feel more tired then and will probably want to sleep. I imagine that you'll start to notice the difference even more in a day or two. That's probably when your fangs will come in."

John felt weak all over again. Something of his shock must have shown on his face because Jess took a step toward him, her hand outstretched, ready to help. "Maybe you should sit down?"

He shook his head, preferring to pace. "I'm just having a little trouble dealing with this."

"You'll get used to it."

"Get used to being half-vampire?" He gave her a deprecating look and then paced to the end of the room, stopping only when he reached the wall. "I don't think so. Fuck." He smacked the wall with his open palm. To his surprise, his hand shot all the way through the drywall, sending dust and debris everywhere.

Dumbfounded, he stared at it. Then he felt Jess walk up beside him, looking none too happy.

"This house has been around for over two hundred years," she said in a clipped tone. "Do you think you could adjust to being a changeling with a little less destruction of private property?"

He felt bad, although not as bad as he might have had her tone not been so condescending. "I didn't hit it that hard. Maybe you have termites."

She shot him a look. "We don't have termites. What we have is a changeling who doesn't realize that he's
changed
."

"Okay, since you seem to know so much, tell me, what else is different about me?"

"Okay." She gestured to the hole in the wall again. "On the
pro
side, you have increased strength—obviously. You can move faster and you have better night vision and more acute hearing. On the
con
side, you're extra sensitive to the light. Something about sunlight makes you tired, whereas the night gives you energy. You'll probably start sleeping all day and be up at night."

He was only half-listening as his mind tried to wrap around the idea that he was a vampire—well, half-vampire. A bloodsucking creature of the… "Do I drink blood?"

"Yes, but you don't live off of it. You'll continue to eat regular food, although I believe for the first couple of days, maybe even a week, your diet may tend toward undercooked meat—extremely undercooked—but after a while, it returns to normal, more or less."

"If I don't need blood to survive, then why would I drink it?"

She gave him a funny look. "There are a few times when you might want it—or need it—but only blood that is freely given. There seems to be some truth to the legend that blood freely given will provide a changeling with enhanced energy and recuperative powers."