The Dark Vampire: Last True Vampire 3 (27 page)

Bria’s world careened as the tether that bound her to
Jenner slackened. The silver would slowly poison him, and he’d need her blood if he was going to survive this. He might have hurt her, but she refused to sit by and watch him die. She flew down the stairs. Panic choked the air from her lungs and caused her to tremble. By the time she made it to the formal dining room that adjoined the kitchen Ronan had laid Jenner out on the long table. Claire was poised and ready with a pair of scissors she used to cut his shirt away. Ronan and Mikhail rolled him over onto his stomach and she used a washcloth to clean the blood from his back to reveal a raw, gaping hole. The silver would prevent him from healing and Bria had no idea how long it had been or how much blood Jenner had lost.

“We have to get the bullet out,” Claire said. “Mikhail, we need a knife, something to open him up.”

“I can do it.” Bria stepped forward, her dagger in hand. Her hands trembled and she willed them to still. She didn’t trust anyone else to do it. Jenner belonged to her. Whether he wanted her to belong to him or not, she was going to do this.

“He’s volatile,” Ronan warned. “Delirious. We’ll need to hold him down or he might attack Bria.” His gaze slid to her. “He might not realize who you are.”

Obviously, Ronan had no idea what had transpired between her and Jenner tonight. “When did this happen?” It couldn’t have been long after she’d left Ultra.

“About an hour ago. I don’t know the details. Just that he was on the run and bleeding.” Ronan looked to Mikhail. “There were at least a dozen of them. Maybe more.”

Mikhail swore under his breath and the room sizzled with his anger. “We can talk about it later,” Bria said. “Right now, we need to get the bullet out.”

The room went silent and Bria brought the tip of the
dagger to Jenner’s flesh. “Careful,” Mikhail warned. “I’ve been shot with these bullets. They’ll liquefy under the skin.”

“Okay,” Bria breathed. “Then I guess I’ll just have to be extra careful.”

She brought the blade to the wound and Jenner jerked. Mikhail and Ronan held him down, but he thrashed against their hold. He rolled to the side and his eyes snapped open, unfocused and feral silver. “I have to get to her!” he shouted. “Let me the fuck go! Bria!”

Claire moved to hold down Jenner’s legs and Mikhail barked out a warning: “Claire, don’t test me! I can’t hold his shoulders down and protect you at the same time. Get away before he kicks you.”

As though she hadn’t even thought of the possibility, Claire moved away, her palm resting protectively on her belly. Bria didn’t blame her. The queen needed to keep a safe distance as long as Jenner was out of control. Besides, she could handle this.

“Jenner.” She spoke with a calm she didn’t feel close to his ear. He stilled on the table, his body rising and falling with heavy pants of breath. “I have to remove the bullet. Don’t move. Do you understand me?”

“Bria,” he said through a grunt of pain. “Don’t . . . leave. Have . . . . to explain.”

The tether between them further loosened and Bria felt him slip away. She poised the knife above the wound and said, “I’m not going anywhere. Now hold still.”

The
dagger’s blade sank into Jenner’s flesh. He snarled, a feral, wild sound that echoed in Bria’s ears, but he didn’t move. Not a single muscle. She tried not to think about his words. He wanted to explain what? Why he’d allowed another female so close to his body when it was Bria who should have been held in his embrace?

“Do you see the bullet?”

She turned her attention to Ronan, who still held Jenner’s right shoulder down. “I think so.” There was so much blood, the rich scent an unwelcome distraction. Bria’s thirst raged, a dry fire that she was desperate to quench. A steady rivulet of crimson ran from the wound high on Jenner’s shoulder blade and down his back. “It’s not going to be easy to get to. There’s a lot of blood and it’s embedded more than a couple of inches.”

Black veins began to spread from the wound, tendrils that marred the perfection of his skin. Jenner’s body seized violently and he let out a shout before he clenched his teeth down, piercing his bottom lip in the process. He slumped back down to the table, his cheek flush against
the polished wood. Bria reached out and smoothed his hair away from his temple.
Hang on, Jenner
.

“Cut around it if you have to,” Ronan said. “He’ll heal once it’s out. But we need to get the bullet out of there before the silver does any more damage.”

Bria steeled herself for what had to be done. She thought of her own wounds at the slayers’ hands when they’d attacked her coven, the blood that had gushed from her throat, and her own desire to float away and cease to be. Her uncle might have felt he had no choice but to orchestrate her imprisonment, but he’d loved her enough to do whatever it took to protect her. He’d brought her to Mikhail to save her. He’d been strong for her. And now she was going to be strong for Jenner.

She pierced Jenner’s skin and cut a deep circle two inches wide and more than two inches deep. The sound of his pained shout boomed in her ears and shook the chandelier that hung high above the table. With the wound now gaping and open Bria used the dagger’s tip to dig beneath the bullet and leverage it out. Using her fingers, she reached into the narrow hole and with the tips of her fingers gripped the mangled silver bullet as she pried it loose with the dagger. It was spongy in her grip, as volatile as the male who trembled with pain beneath her. Slowly, oh, so slowly, she drew the bullet from Jenner’s back, gripping it as tight as she dared as his body fought to hold on to it.

The bullet released with a sickening wet gurgle of suction and Bria dropped it onto the table’s surface. It broke down in an instant and spread in a puddle, bright against the dark polish of mahogany. Bria watched as the black veins faded from Jenner’s skin and the wound began to close. The silver had taken its toll, as had the blood loss. If he was going to be okay, he’d need to feed before he lost consciousness.

“Help me turn him over.” Ronan and Mikhail eased Jenner onto his back and he winced as his left shoulder touched down on the table. Bria bit down hard and scored her wrist on her fangs. She brought it to Jenner’s mouth, but he’d become unresponsive. “Drink, Jenner.” There was no telling what damage the silver had done or how much blood he’d lost. He responded with a low moan and his tongue flicked out at the rivulet of blood that coated his lips. “Damn it, drink!” Bria shouted the command and pressed her wrist against his mouth. His lips slowly parted and after a long moment sealed over her flesh.

A collective sigh of relief passed from everyone present, but Bria doubted any of them felt it as much as she did. She hated that her worry for him crippled her even after he’d rejected her. But the tether was
absolute
. Whatever happened between them, she could do nothing to change that fact.

Jenner’s soft suction at her wrist became more powerful with every pull. His hands came up to grip her arm and his fangs bit down hard to pierce her skin. Bria swallowed down a gasp as a rush of heat cycled through her veins. How could she ever get Jenner out of her head, her heart, when his effect on her was so instant, so visceral and absolute?

Their tether could never be broken.

A satisfied growl rumbled in his chest as he drank. Bria raised a questioning brow to Mikhail. “How long until he stops bleeding?”

“It’s going to take some time for the wound to completely heal. The bleeding should have stopped already, though. He should be fine by morning.”

She could leave. While he rested. Healed. She could slip out the door and no one would notice. He might need more blood, though. Bria was hurt, but she could
never be cruel. Could never abandon him when he needed her.

Jenner’s fangs disengaged from her wrist and his head lolled to one side. A flash of fear radiated from Bria’s stomach and she placed a palm on his chest. “Jenner?”

“He’s unconscious,” Ronan said. “But I think he’ll be okay. Let’s get him upstairs.”

Mikhail and Ronan hefted Jenner’s limp body from the table and headed for the staircase. Bria stared at the formal dining table, the pristine surface marred by pools of silver and crimson. Her emotions teetered on manic, at once relieved and panicked. She’d done her best to turn off the worry, the doubt that clawed at her while she’d dug the bullet from Jenner’s back. But now that the numbing effect of the adrenaline rush had worn off, Bria found herself unsteady on her feet and shaking.

What if he’d died? Their tether would have been severed and once again Bria would have experienced the crippling emptiness as her soul abandoned her for oblivion. She let out a shuddering breath.

“Are you okay, Bria?”

Claire spoke from behind her. Bria appreciated the female’s concern and turned to face her. “I think so. I’m a little shaken up.”

“That makes two of us.” For the first time since they’d met, Bria noted the fear in Claire’s expression. The queen had always seemed so fearless, so confident. As though she’d never known doubt. “I hope Mikhail kills every last one of those bastards,” she said with a ferocity that Bria not only understood but also shared. “I want him to show them what extinction really is.”

Claire wrapped her hands protectively around her stomach and Bria reached out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You should probably get some rest.”

Claire gave a wan smile. “I’m fine. You’d think being
almost nine months pregnant would be wearing me down, but I’ve never felt better. If anyone needs rest, it’s you. Do you need to feed, Bria? We could call Lucas. Or you can feed from me if you need to.”

“No.” She hadn’t seen Lucas since the night that Jenner proclaimed he’d kill him for putting his hands on her. Jenner’s possessiveness of her that night had stirred something in Bria. Made her feel as though he could possibly want her. So much had changed since that night and she didn’t know how she’d recover from the sense of loss that stabbed through her. As far as feeding from Claire went, Bria doubted Mikhail would be happy whether Claire was trying to help or not. “I’ll be fine.” Claire gave her a dubious look. “Really. But thank you for offering.”

“If you change your mind, let me know,” Claire said. “You’d better get upstairs and check on him.”

Bria’s gaze wandered back to the table. She didn’t know if she was ready to be alone with Jenner, unconscious or not. “The table,” she said. “I need to clean it.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Claire said. “We’ll get it squared away later. Upstairs. Now. Otherwise, I’ll have to ask Ronan and Mikhail to pack
you
up, too.”

Bria smiled. “All right. You too, though. I think we all need a few hours of rest.”

“Word,” Claire said. “Now go. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Bria replied. Claire truly was an extraordinary female. “Thank you.”

By the time Bria made it upstairs, Ronan and Mikhail had left. Jenner lay on her bed, his arm, face, and torso stained crimson. She could only imagine what his back looked like. Her own hands and arms were sticky with dried blood. Bria’s stomach turned as another crippling wave of fear weakened her knees and threatened to send her to the floor.

Exhaustion weighed on her. Sunrise wasn’t far off, but Bria refused to sleep. Instead, she went into the bathroom and ran a sinkful of hot water. She grabbed several washcloths from the cupboard, wetted one, and wrung out the excess water. Jenner’s chest rose and fell with even breaths as she settled down beside him on the mattress. With gentle strokes she washed the blood from his body and then eased him over to his stomach and cleaned his back, careful to avoid the angry gaping wound that had yet to fully close.

She tended him gently. Lovingly. After several trips to the bathroom to rinse the soiled washcloth, she had Jenner as clean as she could get him. She didn’t bother to shower, just wiped the blood from her skin and stripped down to her underwear and a cami. The sun would be up in a matter of minutes. Its approach weighed down her limbs and fogged her mind. Bria eased herself onto the bed next to Jenner and tucked her body against his. For a few hours at least, she could pretend that he wanted her. That she belonged here, with him. Their bodies intertwined.

She could pretend until the sun set that he loved her.

Jenner woke with a start. His breath sawed in and out of his lungs and he clawed at his chest and then over his left shoulder blade where the bullet struck. Self-preservation kicked in as his secondary fangs punched down from his gums and he shot up from the bed, ready to defend himself from an invisible foe. Confusion fogged his brain as the details of Bria’s room came into focus. He slumped against the wall and caught his breath as he tried to make sense of how he’d gotten there. The last thing he remembered, he’d thrown himself into Ronan’s car.

Jesus.

The gray light of twilight shadowed the outline of a body on the mattress. Jenner pushed away from the wall, his limbs quaking with unspent adrenaline, to find Bria resting peacefully next to the indentation his body left on the bed.

Beautiful.

He brought his arm over his shoulder and felt for the bullet wound. Only a raw, angry welt remained of the hole the slayer had blown in his back. The grogginess that weighed Jenner down wasn’t the hold of sunlight on his body but the aftereffects of the silver poisoning. He’d told Ronan to bring him here. Who’d taken the bullet out of his back?

Bria stirred and Jenner reached out to brush a lock of dark hair away from her face. She kicked the covers away and his breath caught at the sight of creamy skin exposed to his gaze. His body stirred, his cock grew hard in his jeans. He’d never wanted anything as much as he did Bria. Had he ruined any chance of making her truly his? Was it too late to take what he wanted after pushing her away time and again? The temptation of her body was almost more than Jenner could stand. He still wasn’t sure if he could trust himself with her. He reached for the sheet and draped it over her, careful not to wake her.

“Why do you cover me?” Bria whispered in the low light. She didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes. Her stillness and the hardness of her tone sent a ripple of anxiety through Jenner’s body.