BloodSworn (18 page)

She fought it. The magic helped a bit, but she felt her mind
bend under his will. He couldn’t be allowed to take her. The world couldn’t
revert back to the death and chaos of the Dark Ages.

Humanity would never crawl out again.

Drew gave a battle yell, launching his fifteen-year-old self
over the counter, her blade clutched in his fists. The metal sank deep, but the
vampire only shrugged the boy off like a pesky bug. Drew went flying and hit
the wall with a sickening thud and lay unmoving.

Then the vampire turned his terrible gaze back on her,
uncaring of the knife still sticking out of his shoulder. “Don’t worry, blood
whore, you’ll soon get used to the feeling of death and enjoy it.”

And he was no doubt right. She’d seen even the strongest men
become addicted to the blood, craving to taste it again and again, eager to
relive the high they felt, the power they gained. It was the enzymes in their
saliva, designed to lure their prey to them.

She bit her lip, welcoming the pain, anything to avoid the
drop into the deep pit of his eyes and the terrible truth of the future he’d laid
out for her. Blood welled, spilling across her tongue, the magic helping to snap
his slippery hold on her. 

Still captured in his grip, she used the only weapon she had
left to her. She spit the blood in his face.

The vampire flinched but then laughed when nothing happened.

She smiled and bit out one word. “Burn.”

Magic ignited at her command like gunpowder, and her blood
ate away his flesh, pitted the skin until she saw bone beneath. He dropped her
and slapped at his face, desperate to remove the source of the pain.

Part of her was horrified by the brutality. She hastily
scrambled out of range of his flailing arms. As if he sensed that she was the
cause of his pain, the vampire opened his mouth and hissed at her.

Just when she thought he’d leap at her throat, a roar thundered
in the house, so terrible she trembled. The sound reverberated and thumped in
her chest like a base drum.

“Merrick.”

As if saying his name conjured him, Merrick appeared in the
doorway and sprang through the air, meeting the vampire head-on. Part of her
relished not being alone with the vampire, but she would give anything to see Merrick
safe, not flinging himself into danger because of her.

The men grappled. Both had fangs bared, claws at the tips of
their fingers, the nails granite hard and wicked sharp. They swiped at each
other, flesh tore, blood welled.

The vampire stumbled, his vision distorted, damaged from her
blood. Black infected blood oozed from the pitted wounds. Merrick still favored
his back, so the injuries evened the match between them.

If Merrick missed one block, he’d get himself killed.

She cursed her lack of knife. Desperate to arm herself, she
searched the room, her gaze falling unerringly to the stake a few feet away. Snatching
it to her chest, she shuffled closer, waiting for an opening to strike, but the
men were exchanging blows too fast to get near.

Hands grabbed her, and she struggled to break free.

“Don’t. You’ll only be a distraction and get him killed.”

Weston’s words halted her on the spot. She turned and saw him
holding his gun at the ready. His eyes tracked the fight, but he refrained from
firing.

When she followed his gaze, she saw why. The men were moving
so fast there was no way to get off a shot without risking Merrick. And despite
the fact a bullet wouldn’t kill either of them, the injury would slow them down
and give the advantage to the opponent.

Heart in her throat, Trina bided her time. She shrugged away
Victor’s hold, his touch irritating her skin. Her grip on the stake tightened,
her knuckles white under the strain. Despite their warning, she waited for an
opening.

Merrick slashed the vampire’s face, each claw laying open
the flesh of his unmarked cheek.

Which left the underside of his arm and ribs exposed. The
vampire struck hard and fast, raking his nails down the tender flesh of Merrick’s
side.

Neither man flinched, each waiting for the mistake that
would give them an opening to strike the mortal blow. Though Merrick was nearly
twice the weight, they appeared evenly matched in strength. The vampire’s fangs
were more delicate, designed to slice through flesh to feed, while Merrick’s
fangs were thicker, built to rend flesh from bone.

Then Merrick stilled. Panic rose as Trina frantically scanned
his body. She couldn’t see anything beneath the blood that would cause him to
halt. The vampire flashed his fangs in triumph and struck.

“No.” Trina charged forward, dodging away from Victor when
he grabbed for her. His fingers brushed her arm before she wiggled away.

But she wasn’t in time.

The gun belched, bullets sinking deep, but not lethal enough
to stop the vampire. He latched onto Merrick’s throat. Her heart dropped to the
bottom of her stomach at the sight of that vermin feeding from Merrick.

Gut churning, Trina rushed forward and yanked the knife out of
the vampire’s back, ready to plunge it in again when she saw Merrick raise his
hands.

Claws sharpened then rested against the vampire’s back in a
parody of an embrace. The nails dug deeper and pushed through flesh. Bones
snapped, and Merrick’s hands disappeared as they sank inside the vampire.

 
Chapter Twenty

M
errick’s
skin grew alarmingly pale in a few short seconds. When he withdrew his hands
from the cool flesh, his fingers slipped free with a slurp. Gore liberally
coated his hands so that it looked like he’d dipped them in red paint up to his
wrists.

In his grip rested a heart.

Knowing what he wanted, Trina brought down the stake. The
wood passed through the grizzled muscle with little resistance. The heart
darkened and the firm flesh softened, turning to goo in his fists.

A rattle filled the vampire’s chest.

The smell of moss and earth thickened, turning rotten as he
started to decay. Despite being dead, the vampire didn’t release his hold on
Merrick’s neck. The suction slowed down, stopping after three more pulls. The
body thinned even more, if that was possible. Muscles melted and darkened into
a black mass that dripped to the floor.

Vampires were the very devil to kill, part of the reason why
they were so hard to create as well. Mortality rate for those wanting to be
turned was ninety percent, and only half of those survived the first year of
madness after the change.

Trina stepped around the macabre couple, saw the vampire’s pale
blue eyes turn hazy, and color bleed into them as the virus keeping him alive stopped
healing his body.

So why didn’t Merrick release him?

She circled, studying the hold when understanding hit. The
vampire’s fangs remained imbedded into Merrick’s neck. She didn’t have the
strength to snap the jaw and remove the teeth without tearing more of Merrick’s
vulnerable throat.

Blood gushed down the front of Merrick’s chest in a
sickening wave. She dropped her stake and applied pressure, but the venom in
the vampire’s saliva prevented the blood from clotting properly.

The only reason Merrick remained standing was because of his
shifter heritage. And because he was one stubborn cuss. The angle made it
impossible for Merrick to free himself without doing further damage. She waved Victor
over to her side. “I need you to break the vampire’s jaw. Merrick can’t afford
to lose any more blood.

“Weston, I want you to get as many towels as you can and then
call the infirmary.” Merrick grabbed her arm, his fingers slippery against her
wrists.

“You.” The word was mostly a gurgle, but very clear.

Part of her thrilled at his request while another part of
her quelled. What the hell did she know about shifters? She’d only worked with
a few of them. The staff here had much more experience.

When she didn’t immediately agree, Merrick pulled on the
vampire’s skull, and she quickly grabbed his hands. “I’ll do it. The boy is
hurt as well. I need someone to look after him.”

The boy, Drew, was seated at a nearby table, his face pale,
his eyes wide, but he was awake and moving.

“Victor, now.”

Victor did as told. Bones crunched, powder sifted over them.
She guided the fangs free from Merrick’s mutilated throat.

She snatched the towels from Weston and quickly applied
pressure. Blood soaked the material in an instant. She added two more to the
pile and waited. With her fingers tacky with his blood and the towels
saturated, panic tried to crawl up her throat. After a minute passed, she
carefully pulled back the makeshift bandage.

And was greeted by another gush of blood, though thankfully,
not nearly as bad.

She wiped away the mess to get a better view of the wound.
The carotid was in one piece, but with two very distinct punctures. He would heal…if
she could keep enough blood in him. She reapplied the pressure.

As the excitement of the fight wore off, the events caught
up with her. The room spun, and she half-feared she’d fall flat on her face.
The energy to use bound magic had drained her. The only thing that kept her on
her feet was Merrick. If he didn’t heal soon, she might be the only one who
could save him.

Conscious of his gaze on her every move like no one else
existed for him, she focused on his wounds. If she looked at him, she’d fall
apart.

“Are you hurt?”

Tears burned her eyes at his words. No yelling at her for
sneaking out or taking her to task for risking their lives, but an inquiry
about her injuries while his blood still dripped on the floor in so many puddles
that her throat thickened.

She cleared her throat twice before her vocal cords would
function. “You’re not healing fast enough. He took too much blood.”

“I’ll be fine.” The gravelly quality of his voice made her
chest ache.

She nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “What were you
thinking? The vampire could’ve ripped out your carotid.”

Merrick snorted. “Vampires are too conceited, hiding behind
their immortality. He wouldn’t have given up the chance to take shifter blood.”

“You risked your life on a gamble.” She wanted to smack him for
endangering his life so needlessly.

“The vampire needed the extra boost of blood to heal and
fight the other shifters who would’ve prevented him from leaving.”

Trina understood what he said. The logic was sound. That
didn’t mean she liked it. People poured into the room, and she was grateful for
the distraction.

“What do you have?” When Glenda approached, Merrick growled.
She paled, but bravely stood her ground.

Trina didn’t like the thought of another woman anywhere near
Merrick, but despite Merrick’s protest, Trina wondered if Glenda wouldn’t be a
better candidate to help him.

Trina was too emotionally involved.

What if she made a mistake that cost him his life?

One thing kept her where she stood…what if she lost Merrick
because she was a coward? Glenda had more training with shifters, but Trina
knew Merrick and had a fuller medical background than the other woman. She did
as her heart bid, feeling both relief and trepidation. “Why don’t you take the
kid to the infirmary?”

Merrick relaxed at her words then his legs folded under him.

“Grab him!” She didn’t dare loosen the pressure on his
throat and dropped to her knees beside him. Merrick resisted their touch, and
she shushed him. “Relax.”

He was wounded because of her. And because of her, he was in
danger. If he didn’t heal soon, his pack would learn about his secret, one she
swore she’d help protect.

Her atheme had landed a few feet away, the blade sparking a daring
idea that was reckless and could prove dangerous to both of them…and could
perhaps be the only way to save his life.

“Do you trust me?” Part of her almost wished he’d say no
even though the answer would shatter her.

“Yes.” Merrick didn’t hesitate.

“Then tell everyone to leave.” The room immediately emptied
of all people but Merrick, Victor and Weston. Nerves jittered through her until
she thought she would be sick.

If she did this, there would be no going back.

They would find out the truth.

She grabbed her knife, flipped the blade and caught the
pommel. Merrick’s trusting, green eyes haunted her with everything that could
go so wrong, and she bit her lip.

There was no decision.

If she didn’t do this, he would die. She couldn’t let
Merrick suffer, not after everything he’d risked for her.

Cold metal pressed against her wrist, the sharp blade barely
touching her skin before Merrick captured her hand.

“Don’t.”

Conscious of the two men at her back, she focused only on
Merrick and the ever-increasing pool of blood beneath them. “You and I both
know that you are not well. Your wound isn’t healing. Part of that is due to
the venom in the vampire’s saliva.”

“But not all of it.”

Trina shook her head. “If you leave this room without at
least partially healing, everyone else will know it, too.”

Trina dropped her gaze to her atheme and blurted out the secrets
she’d sworn never to share. “You saw what the vampire looked like when you entered
the room. I did that with only a few drops of my blood.”

“And you want to feed that to Merrick?” Victor’s low rumble made
her flinch, and she did her best to hide her reaction.

Merrick saw it anyway, and his fingers gently brushed her
wrists. “Do it.”

Her gaze snapped to his, uncertain if he really meant it. His
warmth gave her courage. She didn’t know if she deserved his trust, but she
wanted it so desperately that she ached. “You’re sure? I’ve never tried this
before. It’s all a guess. If the magic in my blood destroyed his flesh, it
should be able to aid in your healing. It’s a huge gamble.”

“You wouldn’t have suggested it if you thought there was any
other way.” A flicker of a smile passed over his face, gone before she could be
sure. “I trust you.”

“Merrick.”

Leo waved away Victor’s objection, giving him his best
shut-the-fuck-up expression. He would not have them ruin this for him. “She’s
right. It’s apparent that I’m not healing fast enough. I can’t leave the room
like this. Hell, without help, I wouldn’t even be able to walk on my own two
feet.”

“You just fought a vampire and won. One of the oldest known vampires.
No one can say the same.”

Merrick only lifted a corner of his lips in a parody of a
snarl. “And I would be in the infirmary or in the ground if not for her. I won’t
leave her unprotected. In the two days she’s been here, she’s almost been
killed three times. How can it be that she was safer on her own than in the
protection of the whole northern region pack?”

No one had an answer to that. Merrick struggled to sit,
brushing away helping hands. He tossed away the towels, exposing his neck. Small
incisions from the vampire’s teeth dotted his throat. The puncture wounds still
wept blood, continuing its sluggish dribble down the strong column of his neck.
She watched the trail of blood and, for the first time in her career, thought
she would become sick at the sight of it.

Weston interrupted, “Are you sure you’re strong enough to
help him?”

Trina glared at him, wishing he were closer so she could kick
him when Merrick’s gaze sharpened on her.

“What does he mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Trina—”

“It’s none of your concern.” When he made to grab for her,
she quickly scooted out reach.

“It is my
concern
when I’m supposed to be protecting
you.” The stubborn jackass narrowed his eyes as if he’d found her lacking, and
she hated it. If she thought her legs had the strength to hold her, she would’ve
removed herself from his judgmental stare.

How could she admit to Merrick that she was a failure as a witch?
That her powers were so different and volatile that other witches had shunned
her.

“I can heal you if you let me.” The slight shake in her voice
annoyed the crap out of her.

“Answer my question first. What did Weston mean if you were
strong enough? Were you injured?” He searched her body again, detecting nothing
but a few bruises. He found no open wounds. It pissed him off that he wasn’t
able to stand and inspect her without passing out and falling on his face.

He’d never hated his weakness more now that it was so
blatantly exposed in front of her. When he’d seen her dangling from the
vampires grip, he reacted instinctively to protect what was his.

It didn’t matter that she was their property. She didn’t
want to go and that was enough for him.

But something wasn’t quite right with the story the vampires
gave him.

The facts didn’t match.

They didn’t outright lie, but Merrick suspected he hadn’t
asked the right questions. If the vampire truly owned her, he would’ve just
ordered her to return. Instead, Trina had fought him, something no slave could
do without being inflicted with crippling pain.

Fought him and was losing. If he hadn’t made it in time…he
cut off that thought.

The vampire had been stronger than he expected. He could’ve
dragged out the fight and maybe won the battle by strength alone, but the need
to tear the vampire apart in front of Trina wouldn’t let him play cat and
mouse.