Angie laughed. “You’ve already lost control. When was the last time you openly attacked a human?”
He released her jaw and gave her a scant second of reprieve before his hand cracked across her face. Her vision swam out of focus. Then his hand was back, around her throat now, squeezing hard enough to make her struggle for air. The other brushed her dislocated shoulder. He pressed one finger on the joint, and she tried to scream but could not produce a sound. Animal instinct drove her to lash out. Her fingernails raked his face, narrowly missing an eye, but he caught her wrist and forced it out of the way. His head lowered so sharp fangs grazed her cheek. “Who’s dancing now?”
The tips sank into her just enough to break skin. He left delicate tracks from the outer corner of her eye to the side of her nose. She went still, afraid she’d injure herself worse if she tried to get away. His tongue slithered over the shallow wounds, making her shudder with revulsion. Rimbeau drew back a few inches, then struck. His teeth scraped her cheekbone.
Involuntarily, she began to struggle again. His weight left her, but an instant later he hauled her upright and ripped the corset in half to strip her nearly naked. Fangs already dripping with blood sank into her breasts over and over, ravaging the soft flesh until it was slick and red. The wounds did not heal as vampire bites usually did. The furrows and slashes remained open, bleeding profusely.
Out of the chaos of hysteria, she heard herself screaming, “Go on, rip me to pieces. Show me that control you bragged about!”
Rimbeau stopped. He cocked his head to one side as though listening to some inner voice. Then he grinned. “You are very good at provoking me. But it won’t work.”
Almost jovial now, he sat and leaned his back against the wall. He hauled her across his lap with casual ease, one arm cradling her shoulders while his free hand moved over tattered flesh. Angie didn’t even try to struggle. Her ears were ringing, a strange wailing that rose and fell over and over. She was going into shock. Couldn’t that kill you? Perhaps it would, if she were lucky.
With surprising delicacy, his fingertips slid over her wet skin. “Shh,” he whispered, though she no longer made any sound. “It’s all right. I promise I’ll be gentle.”
Angie trembled and tried to curl inward, but he had different ideas. Rimbeau forced her to unbend so he could stroke her side. He ran his thumb over reach rib. When his hand stopped moving, the thumb pressed against one of them. The pain seemed trivial compared to the rest of her injuries. Then he drove in harder, one point of pressure intensifying until it became intolerable. He didn’t even have to work hard. To him this was indeed gentle.
The bone bent.
Angie started to squirm, but his arm around her tightened, and fresh pain throbbed through her dislocated shoulder. Rimbeau brought his lips to hers so she tasted the metallic tang of her own blood. He kissed her, and the bone snapped.
She opened her mouth to scream. He slid his tongue inside as if he could drink in the sound. Angie tried to twist her head away, but his fangs caught on her lower lip and she stopped, afraid he would tear it off. His thumb moved up to the next rib.
Rimbeau eased back from the kiss to gaze into her contorted face. He smiled with the sweetness of a lover. Slowly, he began again. Only a little pain at first, increasing by increments. Fresh tears poured down her face, burning the wounds there and mingling with blood that had begun to dry and go tacky.
The truck lurched to a halt.
Rimbeau’s expression twisted into a snarl of annoyance. He tossed her away from him. Angie’s consciousness flickered in and out as she bounced across the truck bed, her injuries each fighting the other for attention. The ringing sound grew louder.
The vampire flung the doors of the truck open.
Lurid red and blue lights assaulted the dim interior, casting Rimbeau into silhouette, and she realized the sound had not been inside her head at all. Police sirens wailed. Someone shouted an order, and Angie glimpsed something being thrown into the air, wide as a blanket, made of glittering strands. A net. They’d tried to catch Rimbeau in a silver net, but he shot into the night sky and vanished before the thing had fully unfolded. It fell onto the bed of the truck.
“Where is he?” a woman shouted.
A few shots rang out, but a man’s voice cut across them. “Don’t fire unless you can see him.”
“Oh, my God.”
This last was closer than the rest. Angie tried to sit up, but it felt as though someone had cast her in cement. The best she could do was raise her head.
Ron stared at her. The look on his face told her that the damage Rimbeau had inflicted might be beyond repair. She stopped trying to get up, and instead curled into a loose ball and closed her eyes.
“Get the medics!” he shouted. “She’s in shock. Find some blankets. Come on, move!”
Consciousness brought the smell of antiseptic. Gradually, Angie became aware of the beeping of electronic instruments and the rustle of someone moving nearby. She considered opening her eyes, or at least saying something to let the person know she was awake, but she couldn’t summon the strength.
“She can’t speak for herself. It’s up to you, Mr. Morgan.”
James was here. She could rest without worrying about anything, trusting he would always act in her best interests. All would be well.
“I know.” The familiar voice soothed her. “She will be furious, but as you say, it is my decision. Do what you must.”
Furious? James could be frustrating and even condescending at times, but he’d never really made her angry. Angie decided she must be dreaming and let herself drift away in the darkness.
Darkness congealed into dreams. Vampires. One after another, threatening, hurting, some maddened with hunger and out of control, others deliberate and subtle in their cruelty. Past and present jumbled together with one constant holding them together: pain.
“Keep her still or she’ll pull out the IV. Careful, watch the shoulder! Miss Sullivan? Miss Sullivan, calm down. You’re safe.”
It took a few seconds to remember that Sullivan was her alias. Angie opened her eyes and fell still, breathing hard. Her gaze darted around the room. She lay in a bed, surrounded by people in white coats and medical scrubs. Dim light filtered through curtains. The hands that gripped her arms and legs eased off. A nurse checked her IV and the leads connecting her to machines that monitored her vital signs, adjusting those that had come loose. Angie tried to sit up, but the hands quickly returned, urging her to stay still. She was happy to comply. Even that slight flexing of her abdominal muscles sent a burst of agony through her side.
“Ribs?” she asked.
“Yes.” To her left stood a man she assumed was a doctor, holding a medical chart. “One broken, one bruised.”
She remembered the crack of the bone breaking, and with it the feel of Rimbeau’s mouth on hers, drinking in her screams. Her stomach turned over. Other memories followed. Angie raised a hand to her face, but again the attendants stopped her.
“You don’t want to disturb the bandages,” one explained.
Resisting took too much effort, so she gave in for the moment.
“How bad?” Her voice sounded raspy, and she realized her mouth was as dry as sandpaper.
The doctor studied her for a moment, as though deciding how much to say. “We weren’t sure you were going to make it.”
The attendant who’d told her not to touch the bandages turned away and came back with a cup in his hand. He used a spoon to scoop out an ice chip and offered it to her.
“Let it melt in your mouth. I know you’re thirsty, but we can’t let you drink anything yet.”
She opened her mouth and let him put the ice chip on her tongue. The moisture was less than satisfying, but it did help.
“Joseph. Ron. Are they…”
A new figure stepped forward, and relief washed through her as she recognized Ron. He nudged the other attendant aside so he could stand close.
“We’re fine,” he told her. “I’m sorry we didn’t stop him from taking you, Miss Sullivan. For what it’s worth, there’s a death warrant out on him, and his accomplice is dead.”
“Phosphorous grenade?” she mumbled.
“That’s right. You saw the light?”
“Mmm. How’d you find me?”
“Tracking device in your shoe. We would have gotten to you sooner, but we decided to call in the cavalry. Figured two of us wouldn’t be enough, and it’d be best to get the law involved.”
“Good.” Her eyelids felt heavy, and moving her mouth to speak was growing more difficult. “You didn’t tell me…about the tracker.”
Ron shrugged. “Standard procedure. It’s good to have an ace up your sleeve the client doesn’t know about, in case she’s forced to reveal the security measures being taken.”
“That’s enough for now. Let her get some rest.” The doctor herded everyone out while the nurse adjusted something connected to her IV. Painkillers oozed into her system and forced her already sleepy eyes to shut while her mind floated far, far away.
Angie slept.
“She’ll be fine. The new medication will heal the worst of her injuries. No, it isn’t as good as—absolutely not. She never would forgive me. I’ve known her a long time, Scott, at least as humans count it.”
Silence.
“She would rather be disfigured, even crippled for life, than ever take blood from one of us again…Do not ask me that. I have already said more than I should. What news on the Rocky Mountain Territory?”
Another pause, longer this time.
“Interesting. I shall be most curious to see how this plays out. Keep me informed. I must go now; I believe she is waking.”
Even without the monitors, he would have heard her heart picking up speed and the change in her respiration. Angie was surprised it had taken him that long. Opening her eyes, she found her room dark except for the dim lights of the medical readouts and the display on his cell phone. He snapped it shut and tucked it into a pocket.
“James.”
“Angel.” Cool fingers closed around her hand. “We’ve been very worried about you. How are you feeling?”
She took stock of herself before answering. “Thirsty. Can you help me sit up? The bed. There should a way to adjust it.”
“I’ll call a nurse.”
“No.” She squeezed his hand. “I just want you for a while. Please?”
“I do not know how to operate the bed.”
“That’s all right. Use pillows.”
James slid one arm behind her and eased her into a sitting position. She tried not to use any muscles that would pull at the broken ribs, and felt only a few twinges as he placed pillows to prop her up. Her body ached from lying in the same position for too long.
“You were talking to Scott.”
“He is concerned about you.” Moving away, he picked up something, and she heard the gurgle of water being poured.
“He thought you should have healed me with your blood.”
James turned back and paused before giving her a glass. “Do not judge him too harshly, Angel. He knows you care for me. It makes no sense to him that you would refuse my blood, when there is already a bond between us.”
“Does it make sense to you?”
Angie held the glass with both hands and took a sip. Settling onto the edge of the bed, James brushed a few tangled strands of hair out of her face. She could only imagine the state it must be in. She’d have to ask one of the attendants to help her wash it.
“It does now,” he said quietly. “But only because you have explained it to me. I think Scott would understand, too, given a chance.”
“You like him.”
James blinked. He put his hand on her knee, and she smiled. Most vampires did not understand the basic human need for physical contact. He might not either, but at least he was aware and willing to fill it, so long as it didn’t involve any sort of emotional intimacy. Touch was one thing. Feelings were another.
“He has proven to be a good friend. I trust him.”
Trust? James said that about very few people. He watched to see how she reacted. Why did it matter to him? She decided to think about this later and changed the subject. “What’s happening with Rimbeau?”
“You need not worry about him any longer. He’s being hunted by humans and vampires alike. I can hardly credit his arrogance, thinking he could get away with such a thing unscathed.”
“He couldn’t imagine getting caught. Probably wouldn’t have been if the guys hadn’t put that tracking device on me.”
“Humans. It is hard to keep up with your ingenuity. We change so much more slowly than you.”
“Lucky for us.” She took another drink, soothing her parched throat. She had to be careful not to gulp it all at once. “What’s going on in the Rocky Mountain Territory that has you so curious?”
“You were more awake than I realized.” A note of amusement crept into his voice. “It is something even I did not foresee. When they found out what Rimbeau had done, his lieutenants called an emergency meeting of the Haven Masters. All of them withdrew their allegiance to him.”
“You didn’t foresee that?”
“Let me finish. The surprise is what they did next. We expected them to choose a new Monarch, but instead they have done something unprecedented. Humans have been doing it for centuries, but vampires have never attempted self-rule.”
“Democracy?” That
was
a surprise. “You may change slowly,” Angie mused, “but you do change.”
“I am intrigued to see what comes of it.”
“So am I. It would be fascinating to study the process from the inside. The development of a new form of government in a species other than humans. Do you think they’ll keep a record that might be made accessible to scholars? Or perhaps grant interviews?”
His laugh startled her into silence. “It’s good to hear you sounding like yourself, Angel. I was worried you might withdraw.”
She smiled, but it was crooked with self-deprecation. “I am withdrawn, James. I’m just good at compartmentalizing it.”
“Perhaps.” His tone softened. “But not as withdrawn as you once were, and part of you, the keen student of sentient nature, is not withdrawn at all. I find that encouraging.”