Undying Destiny (3 page)

As if in slow motion, her body rebelling, Emily did as he’d instructed. Her compliance took every ounce of telepathic influence and skill left at his disposal.

Once completed, she returned to his side.

He caressed the right side of her face, the warmth of her skin a heated embrace on his cool palm. With the gentle persuasion of his hand, Kenric brought her gaze back to connect with his.

“Lean closer to me, Emily.”

Her eyelids narrowed, confusion written in her expression, but she lowered her head. Kenric pulled her in, positioning her neck near his lips, and brushed a stray curl away from her neck.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed against her skin. “If there was another way, I would take it. You see, you have something I’m in desperate need of.” He didn’t know why he felt the sudden, overwhelming desire to explain. He had to feed. And he would make sure she didn’t remember when he’d finished. But something inside him needed her to understand and to not be afraid. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I promise. I will be as gentle as possible.”

He savored another whiff of her sweet scent before tasting the area above her pounding pulse. She shivered, wringing a groan from his throat. He could wait no longer.

His fangs pierced her supple flesh. Tightening his hold, he held her immobile, not wanting to tear her skin. A moment later, Emily’s body relaxed. He loosened his grip and gently caressed her arms, soothing her as he drank.

Her blood spilled into his mouth, a flood of hot and sweet. It filled his starved body in a tidal wave of sensation and pooled in his groin. He’d never tasted anything as luscious as the woman in his arms. And he wanted more.

Kenric reached farther around her body and lifted her onto the gurney with him. He wanted—no, needed—the feel of her whole body next to his. Her hip pressed against him. His eyes rolled in exquisite pain.

Finally, he reluctantly withdrew his fangs, licking the remaining spicy droplets of blood from the small twin holes on her neck. Pressing his tongue to the wound, he held pressure on the area for a few seconds to ensure clotting had taken hold.

“Thank you, Emily,” he whispered into her ear, easing his arms from around her. She slumped.

“Shit!” He hadn’t stopped in time. What the hell was wrong with him? A frantic shuffle ensued as he worked to slide out from beneath her and onto his side. Holding his breath, he checked for a pulse.

There was a strong beat.

Air rushed from his chest with relief. She’d passed out.

Good man, Kenric. This is really the way to get out of here unnoticed
. He punched the pillow beneath them and silently groaned when he’d much rather have shoved his fist through a wall.

Now, not only do they have a slashed-up John Doe who will go missing, but also an unconscious nurse with bite marks on her neck.

Nice inconspicuous exit, asshole.

Kenric gripped the side rail of the gurney, pulling himself to a standing position while lowering Emily onto her back. His legs trembled under his weight, and he struggled to gain his balance. It would take a few moments to feel the full restorative effects of her blood.

Studying the auburn-haired woman in blue scrubs, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt more alive than he had in the moments before he had fed. A physical response to do more than replenish his veins was normal, but not like that. Not to the point where he lost focus. He needed to get the hell out here, fast.
Wipe her memories and be gone
. He could take care of the mess he’d made after the fact.

With the back of her head in his palm, he closed his eyes, searching for the memories he needed to capture from her mind.

He lowered her head back to the mattress, then whirled, giving an exasperated swipe to his hair.

What the hell’s wrong with you? You’re not a damn fledgling.

He couldn’t concentrate. Every time he found the memory he sought, it faded, slipping from his mind. It wasn’t like he didn’t perform this little trick at least once a week when he fed. What was it about her that had him so rattled?

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Back at the gurney, he held her head in his hand, searching once again for focus. This had to be done.

His mind rebelled. With a grimace, he lowered her head and threw his hands up in surrender. He couldn’t do it. She didn’t deserve to wake up alone, confused and sick, lying on an empty gurney. She didn’t deserve to be confronted for an answer about what the hell had happened to John Doe. And maybe, he didn’t want her to forget him.

Where did
that
come from?

He shook his head and huffed. He didn’t need the complication of being responsible for a woman.

But cleaning up all traces of the John Doe from the hospital, with help from the inside…

He stared at his dilemma sleeping on the gurney. If he trusted this woman to help him, he would place the entire Enclave at risk. Kenric ran an impatient hand through his hair. But he couldn’t, and, in truth, did not want to, leave her here like this.

“Guess there’s only one way to handle this situation.” He brushed an auburn lock of hair from Emily’s cheek. “Wildflower, you’ll be coming with me.”

In a hospital bag on the counter in his room, he found his clothes and coat. He reached in and pulled out his shirt and jeans. Sliced pieces of denim and cotton dangled from his hands. The hospital gown he had on was going to cover more of his body than the scissored mess the ER staff had made of his clothes. His phone was still in the coat pocket, though, and luckily in one piece. He pressed speed dial one for Guerin, who answered on the first ring.

“Kenric, where the hell are you, man? We’ve been trying to reach you all night. Arran’s been out searching for you for hours.”

“I’ll explain when I see you. I don’t have a lot of time. I need you to send a car to… Hang on.” Kenric eased closer to Emily. Picking up the ID badge lying on her chest, he continued, “Elizabeth Bay Memorial.”

“Elizabeth Bay Memorial! Shit, how the hell did you end up there?”

“Like I said, I don’t have time for the details.” Kenric’s pulse thumped in his temples. “Just get me a car. Pull up outside the ER, ring my phone once you’re in position, and I’ll phase into the back.”

“Give me about ten minutes. We found your Mercedes where you parked it. Michael’s also out searching and should be near you. I’ll get him to grab your car and haul ass over there. In the meantime, make yourself scarce.”

Kenric snapped the cell phone closed, leaving it on vibrate to wait for the signal. Times like these, he was never more grateful to have Michael on his staff. Having a human around to venture out during daylight hours when the vampires were trapped indoors was an invaluable service.

Damn good thing they’d left his car where he’d parked it. It wouldn’t take but a few minutes to get here, and with the extra tint on the windows, it would keep his ass from going crispy.

Kenric pulled back the edge of the blue-checked material surrounding his bed and scanned the area. A few distant conversations along with the clatter of equipment moved in the opposite direction.
Good, the area’s clear for now
. Hopefully, it would stay that way for the next few minutes. He rubbed the stubble along his chin and sighed. With any luck, the staff would believe Emily had already left, her shift over.

Emily moaned and shifted on the gurney. Releasing the curtain, Kenric returned to her side. She was a little pale, but her pulse beat steady under his fingertips.

“Damn.” He couldn’t believe he’d been so reckless. His father had trained him for discipline and self-control since before he could walk. In his childhood home, those traits had either come to you naturally or you had learned them under the whip.

He
never
lost control when feeding.

The phone buzzed in his palm. The car was here. He dropped the cell into the hospital bag he held in his hand, then reached down and lifted Emily. She was a full and curvy woman, soft in all the right places, and fit perfectly in his arms. He loved the way she felt.

She whimpered and snuggled closer. Closing his eyes, Kenric fought the distraction of her body in order to focus on bringing the image of the car’s interior into his mind. It would take most of the energy reserves Emily’s blood had restored to phase them both the short distance.

He didn’t have a choice.

It was the only option to get out of the hospital unnoticed. A passed-out nurse in his arms, and his ass flapping in the breeze while he waltzed out the front door, would not make for a subtle departure.

Slowing his heart rate, Kenric sharpened the image of the car’s backseat in his mind. His body tingled. A brief falling sensation and momentary disorientation confirmed the phase. Less than a second later, he opened his eyes. They’d made it into the back of his Mercedes.

“Glad to see you’re safe, sir,” Michael said, turning around to toss a thick black blanket to his newly arrived passenger. Nodding his head of sandy blond waves at the woman in Kenric’s arm, a slight smile curled at the corners of his mouth. “I see we’ll be having a guest at the compound.”

“That’s correct. And we’ll also be keeping this between us for now. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. However you want it.” Michael faced forward.

“When we arrive at the compound, park the car near my private entrance.”

“Understood, sir.”

It would buy him some time. Keep her scent under wraps until he could explain—to her and to his warriors.

His skin stung even from the subdued morning light coming in through the tinted windows. Covering his face and body with the supplied blanket, and Emily as well, he eased back into the soft leather seat with Emily resting against his chest.

The car bumped and dipped, leaving the hospital parking lot. Michael revved the engine, accelerating them into the flow of traffic.

Kenric’s mind raced with the upcoming task at hand: How could he convince Emily to help him erase his presence from the hospital? Not to mention, how to tell her why he needed it erased in the first place?

He was a vampire. Not just any vampire, but one who had already helped himself. He squirmed in his seat. Damn, how was she not going to be scared out of her mind? It would be scary enough for her to learn vampires were not a myth. Top that little bit of information off with the fact that she’d already been snacked on. Not good. Not good at all.

Inside the blanket, Emily’s sleeping face lay pressed against his chest. He pulled her in tighter. He relished the stark contrast between the rough wool scraping at his arms and the softness of the woman contained within.

Draped in darkness, he could not escape thinking of her. Unable to resist it, he drew another intoxicating breath. He hoped working with Emily didn’t take too long, because when he inhaled her scent and embraced her like this… Kenric closed his eyes. He didn’t have the luxury of a distraction. Besides, any needs or desires he had for her weren’t worth her dying.

Chapter Four

A hazy glow crept beneath Emily’s weary eyelids. Lying on her right side, she peeked through her lashes, trying her best to make out the shapes and colors of an unfamiliar room. A lamp beside her illuminated her fuzzy environment. She blinked to clear her vision.

Where am I?

Did I get drunk last night?

She couldn’t believe she would have gone out and gotten this wasted. Wait—no. She’d worked last night. Lifting the sheet covering her, she peered down at the now-wrinkled blue scrubs.

Emily performed a quick mental once-over of her body. She didn’t feel like she’d been assaulted. Her head ached, and God, was she tired. If she didn’t know better, she would swear she’d pulled a forty-eight-hour shift instead of an eight. Pressing her elbow into the mattress, she pushed up. The room spun, and the walls swayed with whirling, little white spots.

“Whoa, girl. Okay, well, that’s not good,” she mumbled on her way back down to the mattress.

With the option of pulling herself upright shelved, she tried to keep a tight-fisted hold on her growing anxiety. She looked around the bedroom. Rich browns and deep burgundies gave the large room warmth. A heavy mahogany chest of drawers with brass pulls sat across from her, resting on a dark-stained hardwood floor.

The bed appeared not only big enough for her but also one heck of a sleepover. Emily rolled onto her back. Massive, ornately carved posts stood at each corner. Her hands glided across dark and glossy burgundy sheets.
Wow, silk
. They had to be the most expensive available.
Really? Who was she kidding?
Like she would even know how cheap silk felt? But these sure were nice.

The door to her right opened. Emily closed her eyes. Whoever it was, she decided she would rather figure out their agenda before they knew she was awake.

The sound of bare feet padded around the foot of the bed. She opened her eyelids enough for a peek. A man with wavy, jet-black hair, wearing only a white towel hung low on his hips, stood with his back to her.

He didn’t appear the least bit familiar. It wasn’t like she needed two hands to count the number of men’s bedrooms she’d been in, and there was no way she would have forgotten
that
body, even from the back.

His damp bronze skin glistened in the dim light of the room as he rummaged through a dresser drawer. Shadows formed in the valleys between the muscles flexing across his back. Tension and anxiety wound in her gut, making it difficult to remain still.

Who is he?

She glanced over to the lamp on the bedside table. The slender shape of the base would make a good handhold for a weapon. Movement in her peripheral vision captured her attention and had her gaze darting back to the man in front of her.

Without warning, the towel dropped from his hips.

“Oh, God!”
Emily clamped a hand over her mouth. He must have not heard her, because he proceeded to bend over, his bare ass right in front of her.
Oh. My. God
. The finest-looking piece of male anatomy swayed against the inside of his thigh. She swallowed hard at the dry cotton lining the back of her throat and tried unsuccessfully to pull her gaze away.

He straightened and pulled on a pair of faded, snug-fitting blue jeans, up and over the tightest set of buns she’d ever seen.

He turned and lifted his hands out to his sides, displaying empty palms. “Please, don’t be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you.” Mr. Commando edged closer to her side of the bed. She had no idea what he had in mind, but she had no plans to hang around long enough to find out.

She bolted.

Her legs scrambled to propel her while her upper body weaved and wobbled to the other side of the bed. “Damn, damn, damn.” Her feet hit the floor seconds before her legs melted. Strong arms grabbed her just before she hit the floor, face-first.

“We need to get some fluids into you.” He scooped her up, holding her tight. Not like a mental patient who’d tried to escape, but rather like a fragile doll that had almost broken. The fight knocked out of her for the moment, Emily gave in and rested her head against his bare shoulder. The scent of warm sandalwood mixed with pine teased her nostrils.
Damn, he smells good
.

“No one’s going to hurt you.” He laid her back against the pillow.

The words sounded nice and all, but she wasn’t taking them to heart until she had some answers. Like, now. “Who are you?” Emily grasped the sheet beside her and dropped it back to the bed for emphasis. “And what am I doing here?”

“To answer your first question, I’m Kenric St. James. And second, you weren’t well, and I brought you here until you feel better.” From the bedside table, he picked up a full glass. “Here, you need to drink. It’ll help.”

She recoiled.
He did not think she was going to drink that? She had no idea who he even was. He could be some ax murderer, for all she knew.

“It’s not poison, only water. Look.” He tipped the glass to his lips and took a sip. His gaze never left hers as he swallowed. Emily followed the path the liquid took as it made its way down his throat and beyond. Her gaze landed on the light spray of dark hairs covering his chest. A wave of heat rolled from the tips of her toes to the top of her head in a hot rush. She’d never been what the other girls used to call “boy crazy.” Had never sat and watched the way a man walked or talked. No man had ever appealed to her in that way. But
this
man. Whew! Her nipples tightened beneath her scrub top, sending a jolt of awareness between her legs. This man made drinking water a sexual act.

“See, just water,” he said, handing the glass to her.

Emily crossed her arms, so he couldn’t see how her body reacted to him. How embarrassing. She stared at the water, and then back at the stranger who called himself Kenric St. James. He hadn’t tried to hurt her—yet, and her throat did feel like a dry lake bed. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she took his offer but immediately inched over in the bed. His presence…overwhelmed.

The cool liquid bathed her parched throat. She finished it off in three large swallows.

“Would you like another?” He raised his chin toward her empty glass. “You should drink as much as you can.”

She nodded.

Kenric plucked the glass from her hand. The smell of the forest and the heady musk of testosterone radiated off him.
Very nice.
Some of the anxiety eased from her tense muscles only to gather in other places she did not want to think about.

He poured her a refill from the container on the bedside table. Still wet from a shower, his damp hair fell forward in soft ebony waves across his forehead. As he passed her the drink, his ink-black eyelashes lifted, and his gaze met hers. The color of his eyes knocked her off-kilter: azure. The same color she imagined tropical waters would appear as they rolled onto a white sandy beach on some faraway shore. Their fingers touched, and the glass wobbled in her hand. She jerked and glanced away, steadying the glass with her other hand.

He hovered at her bedside, following her every move. The way he watched her from under those lashes felt almost…possessive.
I’m not going to freak out. I’m not going to freak out. Breathe. In and out.
She inhaled through her nose and out her mouth. A parting gift from her ex left her paranoid of any man getting ideas of ownership. She had to keep a clear head. He was just making sure she was okay. At least that was what she was going to tell herself. All the way to the door.

She kept her sights trained on the tiny air bubbles in her glass and away from Mr. St. James.
What’s wrong with me? I don’t know this man. Yet here I am, sitting on a stranger’s bed, getting all hot and bothered, instead of getting my butt up and out of here.

“Look, I really appreciate you helping me. Really, I do. But I need to go home now. You can fill me in on what happened and how I got here on my way home. I’m sure everyone is worried sick about me,” she added, glancing back up at the hard edge of his jaw. Her rational mind screamed,
Run, idiot
.

He reached for the water pitcher again. She couldn’t help but follow the flexing line of muscles in his arms. Her gaze trailed along his smooth bronze skin and the cut outline of his forearm up to his defined bicep. An intricate black tattoo halfway encircled the muscle there. She reached out to touch the design. Her fingertips brushed the warmth of his skin. A sudden sense of déjà vu surrounded her, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

Emily couldn’t take her eyes off the tattoo. Her stomach tightened, as if something unpleasant had joined with the ink. She’d seen this before, touched this same tattoo. Images shuttered past, frame by frame, as if she was viewing an old movie reel.

She had stood at the bedside of an injured male patient in the ER. Her fingertips had brushed the black and red pattern wrapping his bicep. The interconnecting loops had formed the infinity symbol, while a dagger, dripping blood, had penetrated its center.

The patient had woken up and gripped her arm. She’d jumped from the unexpected touch and beautiful vivid blue eyes had met hers.

Her gaze left the arm of the man beside her now and shifted to his face. Same tattoo, same beautiful blue irises, and the same scar that had graced the face of her handsome John Doe.

This isn’t possible.

The patient on that gurney had had life-threatening stab wounds. She glanced to the right of Kenric’s neck and saw a raised jagged pink scar. With her lungs tight and her heart in her throat, she scanned his bare chest and side.

Same story.

Impossible.

No one healed that fast.

“Who are you?” Shit, that sounded weak and shaky. Emily wanted to cringe but refrained. She hated to let anyone know she was afraid, especially a man.

“Kenric St. James, remember?”

“I know that’s what you said, but you look just like my patient from the ER last night. A John Doe. A man I found stabbed and near death down at The Docks. But that’s not possible, right?”

No answer.

Air sawed in and out of her chest, and with each passing moment, she inched farther across the bed and away from the man.

More memories from the previous night unreeled.

He’d asked her name, and then she’d been like a puppet on a string. She had detached the John Doe from his heart monitor and IV. Her mind had rebelled, but her arms and legs had worked against her. She had had to help him. He needed to leave. The words cycled on repeat in her head.

Next, she had sat on the gurney beside him. Per his command, she’d leaned closer. Her heart raced as the memories continued to unfold.
What had he done?
He had gripped her upper arms, urging her even closer, until his whiskers scraped her cheek. His words had whispered in her ear. He was sorry. He wasn’t going to hurt her. The warmth of his breath had heated and caressed her skin.

The hairs on the back of her neck lifted and stood on end, ushering the last missing piece of the puzzle into place. Chills ran down her back, causing her to shiver.

“Oh my God!” Emily launched herself to the other side of the bed. Water sloshed in her wake from the forgotten glass, now overturned and pooling on the sheets. Sitting up on her knees with her hand at her throat, she gawked at Kenric St. James from the other side of the bed. Her fingertips brushed over two raised and tender bumps on the side of her neck.

“What did you do to me?”

He sat there, unmoving, watching her with those piercing blue eyes.

“Answer me!”

Kenric watched as Emily’s hazel eyes ignited in frustration. Her reaction to what he’d done played out exactly how he’d imagined it would. He’d run this scenario a dozen times or more in his mind before she had woken up. The problem was, he wasn’t any closer to knowing what to say to her at this moment than he’d been hours ago.

He’d fed on her. How does one downplay that reality? Somehow, when all was said and done, he hoped she wouldn’t hate him. She could hate the vampire. He could live with that. But for some reason, it mattered that she didn’t hate the man behind the monster.

Kenric backed away from the bed. He raised his hands in a nonthreatening manner. “Emily, please, I realize this sounds absurd after what you remember, and I know it must seem like these are the only words I know, but I’m not going to hurt you.”

“What did you do to me? I remember you at my neck. You… It felt like… You bit me! Why would I sit there and let you do that? Why on earth
would
you do that?”

Emily slid from the bed, trying to get as far away from him as the room allowed. Holding on to the curtains for balance, she stood before a wall of covered windows. With her eyes clenched shut, she gave herself a hard pinch.

“Ouch!” She opened her eyes and grimaced when their eyes met. He couldn’t resent her disappointment in his continued presence.

“You’re not dreaming,” he softly responded. She straightened, stood a little taller.
A woman with dignity.
Pride.
He respected that, and her bravery in the face of what must feel like a nightmare. Most women would be sobbing by now and begging for mercy. This fiery redhead just got pissed. And damn if she didn’t heat his blood with all that fire.

“There’s a lot I need to explain. Do you think we can talk? Can you just sit for a moment? You’ll have your space. I’ll sit over there.” He indicated the overstuffed leather furniture in the sitting area on the other side of his bedroom. She glanced in the direction he pointed, then quickly back to him. Her guarded stance and the small clenched fist she held at her side said it all: she thought he was crazy. No doubt a part of him was, for what he was about to ask her. He had a whole lot of shit to dig out from underneath, and he had to make it smell sweet if he wanted any chance in hell of gaining her trust.

“Let me explain what happened last tonight,” he said. “I give you my word. I will never touch you again without your consent.”