The Shopgirl's Prophecy (Beasts of Vegas Book 1) (24 page)

“Bullshit,” Roz sad, briefly catching her eye. “Standing next to you was like being inside a microwave. The whole room vibrated.”

“Yeah.” That pretty much summed it up. When it happened, a molecular tornado passed in and out of her. She’d never determined whether others felt anything, too. Her dad never chatted with her about symptoms and side effects after he bloodied her nose.

“In Irina’s,” Connor lowered his voice and inched nearer, as if they had any privacy at all. “Why did you want me to hurt you?”

Her face suffused with heat, and she wished to evade the question, lie, something. But she couldn’t. “Pain makes it stop.”

“You hurt yourself?” His fingers danced along her arm, landing on the palm of her hand.

She pulled away. “Sometimes.” Yes, her dad had hit her, hurt her, and made her feel like garbage. It hadn’t been fun, any of it, but it was in the past. He was dead.

“Your father?” he mouthed.

Ali nodded spastically.

Exhaling loudly, as if he finally understood her big, dark secret, Connor sat back and was quiet. She stared out the front windshield wishing the conversation would end already. She’d never asked to be special.

The Ford whizzed by a ranch house with red trim, and then an abandoned corral. They weren’t in Vegas anymore. “Where are we?”

“The middle of fucking nowhere,” Roz quipped. And then, more precisely, “We’re going into hiding for a couple days. There’s a hunting cabin out in the desert Natasha and Anton keeps for emergencies. No one ever goes there.”

“Why?” Ali asked. “What happened?” How long had she been out? Had Irina caused more trouble?

“Volk was in our suite,” Roz said, her body wound about as tight as a person could be without imploding. “We need a place to hide and make a new plan.”

Oh, God. The horde wasn’t giving up. No, they’d never give up searching for her. “How do you know they won’t find us there?” Ali asked.

“It’s off the grid,” Roz said.

“Except we’re tearing through the countryside in a big, noisy, red truck. It might as well have a flashing, neon target on its hood.”

“You have a better idea?” Roz snapped. “This place has a garage. I can hide the truck. It’s the best idea.” She glared at Ali. “Now, shut up, so I can speak my spells.” Her next words were low and breathy, but they sounded like a healing spell.

“What are you casting?” Ali glanced from the witch to the vampire. “Who are you casting it for?”

“Don’t worry,” Connor assured as Roz hissed nonstop. “Just a precaution.” He gestured toward the front of the vehicle.

Through the cracked windshield appeared a quaint domicile with solar panels and a water tower in the yard. Weeds pushed up through the rock garden in the front yard and the north corner of the roof shingles had blown off at some point, but it was surrounded by a block wall with an electric security gate.

It was remote, abandoned, and defensible. It was perfect.

Roz pulled into the yard and hopped out, but Connor didn’t move right away. Ali turned in her seat to get a better look at him. He was pale and kind of sweaty, too. She fingered the raincoat he wore, though it was ninety degrees outside. Was that blood showing above his collar? She tightened her grip on his sleeve.

“What’s wrong?”

He gave her a half-hearted smile. “I got shot.”

She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d said a shark had bitten him. “What? When? How?”

“I wanted a doctor to check you over,” he said. “We took you to the clinic, but she shot me.”

“Doctor Burke?” Good God.

“No, the other one.”

Still speaking spells, Roz drove through the gate, got out, and inspected the walled yard for enemies and booby traps. Satisfied, she opened Connor’s door for him.

“What the hell is Maria’s problem?” Ali exclaimed.

Gripping the doorframe tight, Connor emerged from the truck slowly, one long leg after another. “She said Volk was there.”

Her heart rate sped up. Volk and Olek. In her mind, they were basically the same person. “What did he want?”

Roz offered her arm to Connor for support and still had time to give Ali a look. “What do you think?”

“Not me.”

“Of course you. He had your picture.”

Oh, God. They knew what she looked like, what her name was, and where she’d been. “How did he find the clinic, though?”

Not all of them would survive what was coming. Volk was close to finding her. When he did, he’d bring Olek, and it would be a bloodbath.

“He’s been following you since the bus crash,” Roz said. “He’s obviously got skills. And he’s not giving up anytime soon. Any thoughts on why he wants you?”

“Uh.” None. Vampires weren’t supposed to know her or want her.

Connor said, “Don’t worry. We’ll be safe here for a while.”

Safe. It wasn’t possible anymore. Volk had her picture.

Ali hopped down and wedged herself under Connor’s other arm. Together she and Roz got him to the porch, and then the witch keyed in a code on a panel next to the door. It swung open, blowing dust around a masculine front room complete with stuffed animal heads and reclaimed wood accents.

Under his own power, Connor walked past a glassy-eyed bear head and a rhino skull with a battered horn, past a galley kitchen, and into the only bedroom. But once he’d flopped onto the bare mattress, he didn’t move again.

Out of breath, Roz entered the room carrying a medium-sized suitcase and already wearing a pair of lavender surgical gloves. “I have to dig out the bullet,” she announced, upending the whole case by accident, spilling her beefed-up first aid kit all over the floor.

“Let me help.” Ali scooped up Band-Aids, medical tape, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“I can’t believe she shot him,” Roz grumbled under her breath. “She could have killed him.”

“What do you need me to do?” Ali glanced at Connor, motionless on the bed.

“Nothing. I got it.” She held up a scalpel and then quickly disinfected it. Though, realistically, she could have covered it with manure and it wouldn’t have bothered Connor. The vampire infection would never allow another virus or bacteria to survive inside him.

“Ok,” Ali said, standing up. “I’ll get the rest of the bags from the truck. I need some fresh air anyway.”

Connor grabbed her by the wrist, and when she whipped around, she found him staring at her. He wasn’t unconscious after all. “Don’t go,” he said, so quietly. “Please.”

“Right. No. I won’t.” She sat beside him on the bed and clasped his hand, forgetting to worry about her glow or his reaction to it. He was hurting, and she wanted to help. “You’re going to be fine.” She tried to smile, but there was so much blood. So much, it was hard to see where he’d actually been shot.

Ali glanced up at Roz. “He’ll be fine, right?”

The witch refused to interrupt her healing spells to answer.

Nothing short of decapitation. That’s what he’d told her. But what about profound blood loss? Wouldn’t his heart stall out, just like anyone else’s? Because that bullet had to have hit an artery. Or his heart. His shirt was soaked.

Connor kept his eyes locked on hers, his fingers tight on her wrist. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Me? Am I fine?” She chuckled, couldn’t help it. “Yeah. I’m super. Thanks for asking. You?”

Still speaking spells, Roz cut him to widen the wound and find the slug. He winced, his fingers tightening. But when Roz inserted a stainless steel set of tongs into the wound to retrieve the bullet, Connor’s whole body convulsed. He clenched his teeth and groaned as fresh blood flowed freely down his chest.

“It’s almost over,” she promised.

Connor clung to her hand. Ali squeezed back.

Sweat beading on her brow, Roz looked ready to either pass out or freak out as she dropped the bloody bit of metal onto the floor.

Plunk
.

She threaded her needle, probably the same one she’d used on Ali’s throat, disinfected it and the black thread, and then bent over his chest.

“You doing okay?” Ali whispered, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s almost over.”

“Don’t leave me.” He shivered violently. “Please.”

“I’m right here.” She smiled in a reassuring way, though her face felt like plastic.

He went quiet, and by the time Roz finished, his eyes were closed.

Roz ceased casting and stood up, weaving slightly, holding her bloodied hands in the air. “I’ve got to clean up,” she said. “Stay with him.” She bundled her used tools and left the room.

Ali sat very still for a moment, watching him, hating that he was hurting. And there was only one thing he needed to feel better. It would aid his healing, settle him down, and ease the agony. It would help everything.

Blood. Connor needed blood. And she happened to have enough to spare.

Where else would he get it? He was too weak to hunt. She sure as hell wasn’t going to run around the foothills shooting at rabbits or squirrels, or whatever. Roz could probably kill a bear with her teeth, but she hadn’t offered.

Connor was in pain. Blood would take away his pain. It was simple.

Gently, she ran her fingers up his chest, and Connor roused.

“Don’t.” He grabbed her hand without much conviction.

“Shhh.”

But he would not be soothed. Though an awful lot of his blood lay on the outside of him instead of the inside, he pushed himself to his feet.

“That’s not happening,” he said.

He took two steps toward the door, and she followed him, her hands up in surrender.

“Please,” he said, backing away from her. “Don’t.” His shoulders bumped the wall, and he leaned his weight against it.

“You’re losing blood.”

“I would never hurt you.”

“I want you to.” Ali eased into his personal space, shuffling her feet between his.

He closed his eyes. “Dizzy…”

She pressed her wrist to his lips.

Connor’s eyes popped open, and he turned his head away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Stop being so damned noble.” She leaned even closer, flattening her breasts to his chest. “You need blood. Drink.”

He stared at her, his eyes glossing over. “Ali…”

She wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She offered her wrist to him again. “You won’t hurt me.” She smiled gently. “I trust you.”

Chapter Eighteen

Ali shifted her hips, realigning her body against Connor’s, and their eyes locked. His flared with hunger and something else. A hesitation. Her pink wrist hung suspended centimeters from his lips, but he hadn’t taken her yet. Was it disgust holding him back? Even minutes from desiccating into some kind of vampire mummy, and he couldn’t bring himself to taste her tainted blood.

But, disgust or no, she couldn’t stand the thought of him suffering when she possessed the elixir for everything that plagued him.

His forehead crinkled as if he was in physical pain, and then Connor slipped one arm around her waist and dug the fingernails of his free hand into her proffered arm. He bit deeply and sucked hard. There was a sharp pain at first, but the drinking didn’t hurt. No, after the initial bite, his suckling felt good. Like a passionate kiss.

His free hand cupped the side of her face, his thumb caressing the corner of her mouth, coming dangerously close to slipping between her lips. His tongue flicked around the wound’s edges, and she shivered all over. Ali tucked her head under his chin, feeling his heat everywhere she touched.

He was all she could see, feel, or smell as he palmed the side of her skull. Just him. In that moment, his body obscuring the whole world, he was everything to her.

While Connor drank, chest heaving, she memorized the shape of his shoulders and the curve of his lower back. He had a beautiful body, all smooth skin over taut, lean muscle. She longed to touch him, to run the sensitive pads of her fingers over his arms, down his chest, lower, to the ridges of his abdomen, lower…

Several backpacks hit the floor. Roz stood in the doorway blinking rapidly. Freaking Roz. Worst. Timing. Ever.

The witch recovered quickly. “Uh, I need a few more things.” She ducked out, headed for the truck.

Connor roused at the sound of her voice and pulled his mouth away, keeping a loose hold of Ali’s bloody wrist. He didn’t say anything, just stared at a pair of puncture wounds for several seconds. Finally, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and released her. He found gauze and tape in one of the packs on the floor, and wrapped her wrist with them.

“You should go.”

“I don’t want to.”

“There’s blood everywhere,” Connor snapped, putting even more distance between them. “Go.”

Ali recoiled, not expecting him to be angry with her. She hurried out, banging her elbow against the stupid doorframe and sending a jolt of pain up her arm. But it cleared her head.

He was right. There was blood on her hands. She had to wash it off with soap. The bathroom was down a short hall, and she locked herself inside. It took some searching to find little packs of bar soap under the sink, but once she unwrapped one, she scrubbed her hands raw in cold water.

Her shirt had blood on it, too. And probably her cheek where she’d laid it against Connor’s chest.

Her blood was tainted. That’s what her grandmother thought. Of course, he’d want to get away as fast as possible. He was probably in the yard throwing it all up.

But she wouldn’t cry. Not in front of either one of them. She sniffed, wiping a tear onto the back of her wrist.

Peeking out the bathroom door, she discovered the house still and quiet, but Ali had no interest in staying inside alone. Instead, she plunked down on the back porch step, facing ruffled foothills turning purple in the evening light. The size of the desert was alien to her modern sensibilities. A person could get lost in a desert like that. She could walk into the creosote fields and never be seen again.

The door swung open behind her. “Hey,” Roz grunted.

“Hi.” She was so not in the mood to deal with this chick right now. Even more than her arm hurt, her feelings were bruised and battered.

Leaving a wide space between them, Roz sat beside her. “I’m supposed to be nice to you now.”

Ali snorted. “Really. How terrible for you.”