Drawing Deep (10 page)

Ria pulled neatly into an open slot in the parking lot of the bed-and-breakfast more with luck then skill and attention to detail. Habit had her shifting the gear into park rather than the desire to exit the vehicle. After unclicking the seat belt she’d fastened in habit as well, she laid her hands in her lap and stared out the windshield.

She’d made it back in one piece, which, she realized now, was a miracle. She could have caused an accident, or ended up in New York, because she hadn’t been thinking of the traffic, pedestrians or which road to take back to the Felix household. No, she’d been on autopilot the entire way. Her body felt strange, not a part of herself, her head light.

Ingesting too much blood made her feel drunk, high, the sensations exacerbating with every unneeded drop. It wasn’t an uncommon phenomena. Like alcoholics, some vampires craved and took more than what was needed to survive. They were after that high, that inhibition and sense of immortality. It was something Ria never did, terrified of what she might do, or, worse, have done to her in such an inebriated state.

As the blood high started to fade, shock at what had happened – the loss of her bagged blood, being attacked and her own vicious retribution – began to set in. She didn’t see the beautiful house in front of her, or the thick, green hedges rioting with dozens of tiny white flowers that framed that house.

She saw nothing, was nothing. She simply floated.

Which was probably why when someone rapped on the driver’s window she let out a piercing scream.

“Hey.” Santos lifted his hands up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You’ve been sitting there for awhile. Are you okay?”

She would be eventually, but she couldn’t discount that the sight of him, standing there all big and strong – and suddenly so very safe – made her want to tear up in relief. When she only continued to sit there, staring at him, his faced creased into lines of concern. He reached for the door handle, only to find it locked. “Open the door, Ria.”

Acting on his bidding, she dropped the hand she hadn’t known she’d curved around her throat when she’d screamed, and a red smear on her palm caught her eye. “I’m still bleeding.”

A moment of silence passed before Santos said in a low, slow tone, “Open the door right now, Ria, before I rip it off its fucking hinges.”

Her eyes jerked back to his, to see they’d gone cold and flat, yet fire snapped in the twin depths. Fire and determination.

As a shifter, he could do it too,
she thought,
and probably would. Then Chris would be pissed.

Her boss would also have a fit if she got blood on anything. A vague memory of cleaning up some and donning her jacket to cover the blood which had dripped onto her shirt seeped into her mind. Cleanliness suddenly a priority, she reached up and snatched a tissue from the little plastic container on the passenger side visor to wipe the blood off her hand.

“Now, Ria.”

As soon as the lock snicked open, Santos wrenched the door wide. “What happened?”

Strangely numb, Ria switched off the engine that was still running and picked up her purse, placing the keys inside. “Our luggage came in. Chris sent me to go pick them up.”

She moved to get out, but Santos blocked her way. “Why is your neck bleeding?” He slid aside the edge of her jacket and sucked in a breath. “Jesus Christ, woman. There’s blood all over your shirt.”

She dropped her gaze to see what he was talking about. Dried blood coated the top left side of her shirt. A resigned sigh escaped. “Damn. I liked this top.”

Though the wound barely bled, the skin slowly knitting back together, there was no hiding the fact something bad had happened.

Santos reached out a finger and lifted her chin up and over to peer at her neck. “What. Happened?”

“Nothing.” A muttered response.

His chest rumbled with a low growl, his nostrils flaring wide. “It looks as if you’ve got more blood on the outside of your body than inside. That’s not nothing. Try again.”

She wanted to giggle at that, but even through the remaining haze of her blood high she recognized something in his face that warned her she better not lie. “Some guy attacked me at the airport.”

“
What
?”

Though he hadn’t yelled, steam seemed to come out his ears and something akin to an electrical storm caused the tiny hairs on her body to stand to attention. Power and heat lashed at her senses. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. A greenish-yellow ring sprung up at the outer edges of his irises and began to blast through the brown depths. It was fascinating, and terribly unsettling.

She gulped. “At the airport. After I put the luggage in the back. I was walking to the driver’s door and some guy pulled a knife and tried to drag me into a van parked next to me.”

The muscles in his jaw bunched. “You parked next to a van?”

Her eyes narrowed at his tone, her uncertainty falling away at the accusation. So like a man to blame the woman. “It wasn’t there when I parked. I’m not an idiot, and don’t you dare put the blame on me.” No way was she going to tell him she’d parked in the farthest lot. While it had seemed like a good idea at the time, she now understood it might not have been the smartest.

His chest heaved as he blew out a breath, visibly reaching for control. “I’m not blaming you. I’m pissed off at what happened and doubly pissed at your boss for sending you there by yourself.”

Ria shrugged. “Lance and Robby offered to go, but I needed them elsewhere. Besides, I’m a big girl.”

“You were attacked!” So much for control. Fury blazed in his eyes.

“I got away, didn’t I?” Belligerent to the end, that was Ria.

“Fuck!” Despite the rage on his face, his hand was surprisingly gentle as he cupped her face and leaned in close. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Ria understood the question for what it was, and was thankful that, because of what she was, the damage done to her wasn’t worse. “No. I managed to knee him and get away.” After she’d had a snack of course. Well, more like a four-course meal. She’d needed to take enough to cover not only the blood lost when the knife at nicked her vein, but enough to heal the wound and replace what she’d used in the last several days simply by
being
. No need to tell Santos that. She didn’t want to see all that brilliant anger for her sake die a quick death.

“Good girl. Did you call the police?”

She had to fight the desire to lean into his touch. Let him care for her. “No. I just left.”

His lips thinned, but he didn’t berate her again. “Can you walk?”

She frowned at him. “Of course I can walk. I drove back here, didn’t I?”

Muttering something under his breath, he helped her out of the SUV, keeping his hand clasped around hers and slammed the door shut. “Come on.”

“I can make it to my room on my own you know.”

“You’re not going to your room. You’re going to see my mother.” He was already pressing buttons on his phone.

Ria dug in her heels, forcing him to turn and look at her. “No. There’s no need. I’m fine. Really.”

Though the foreign color had receded from his eyes, they narrowed into slits. “The wound seems to be clotting, but it sme...seems like you’ve lost a lot of blood. I’m not taking any chances.” When she opened her mouth he added darkly, “Do not argue.”

“But...”

Her protest was cut off when he barked in his phone. “Ria was attacked at the airport. She’s dazed, lost a lot of blood, but coherent.” A slight pause before he simply hung up and clipped the device back on his belt. “Kitchen. Now.”

“The luggage...”

“Can damn well wait until you’re taken care of!”

Blinking at his back, she frowned. “Do you always cuss this much?”

Santos stopped so suddenly she bumped into his back. He turned and brought his face so close to hers that as he spoke, his breath whispered over her lips. “You were attacked. Hurt. That and the sight of your blood is pissing me off. I cuss when I’m pissed. Deal with it.”

Her lips turned down. Now that the high was wearing off, her neck was beginning to throb and her body to shiver. “I already told you...”

Rattling the hell out of her, Santos shifted slightly and pressed his mouth to hers. Heat exploded deep inside, chasing the chill from her flesh, and her eyes fell shut. It was a showing of dominance, no doubt about it, but when her lips trembled, his softened, opening slightly so he could sip at her mouth. Far too soon he pulled back. “Let someone else take care of you for a little while. Okay?”

That idea had some merit, especially as her bones had melted, and that from a simple lip-lock. No tongue required. Eyes wary, she nodded in silence.

He looked at her a moment, that tiny, almost smile twitching his lips. “Now I know.”

She was afraid to ask. “Know what?”

“How to shut you up.”

She had enough of her wits about her to glare in feminine outrage at the smug satisfaction on his face. But honestly, she’d gab until she was hoarse for another one of those kisses.

Not that she’d tell him that.

Thinking more of kisses rather than where he was guiding her, she licked her lips, seeking his all to brief taste, and wanting another.

Melinda met them in the dining room, her expression one of motherly concern. When she saw Ria’s neck, her eyes flickered with surprise. “Follow me.”

The trio made their way through the unoccupied kitchen, crossed a huge laundry room that contained several sets of washers and dryers, a large folding table and countless cabinets, and then into a half bath.

“Everyone’s out back and until I saw you, I wasn’t sure what I needed.” Melinda pulled out a medical kit and several white towels from the cabinet under the sink. “Sit.”

At that authoritative feminine tone, Ria sat on the closed toilet. The room was too small too accommodate the three of them, so Santos remained in the doorway, his watchful eyes glued to Ria as his mother carefully poked and prodded at Ria’s wound. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Ria remained submissive under her ministrations. “No.”

“Is this all your blood?”

“Mostly.” Too late she remembered she’d told Santos she’d kneed her attacker and then bolted. She never said anything about making the man bleed. Dropping her gaze, she stared at the tiled floor. “I, ah, caught him a bit with the knife in the struggle to get away.” Just because it
didn’t
happen that way doesn’t mean it
couldn’t
have happened that way.

“I hope he bleeds to death.” Melinda’s lips twisted in a nasty snarl as she straightened and dampened one of the towels from the sink. “Men who attack women are nothing but cowards, and they piss me off.”

Ria blinked. She’d never seen anything other than welcoming smiles or quiet authority from this woman, and for some reason the furious outburst on her behalf made Ria’s chest ache.

“She lost a lot of blood.” Santos murmured from the door.

Ria tensed at his comment, remaining frozen as capable hands gently cleaned off her neck. “You heard her. It’s not all hers. Besides, blood wounds usually look worse than what they are.” Melinda unzipped the jacket and pushed it aside, only to come to a sudden halt. Her gaze shot to Ria’s “This is one of them.”

Because she was hidden from Santos by Melinda’s body, Ria allowed the shudder of relief to move through her. They both knew what coated Ria was more than a little blood.

“You sure, Mom?”

Covering Ria with the jacket once again, Melinda arched a brow at her eldest son and opened a bottle, dabbing the contents on a gauze pad. “I worked as a nurse in the ER,” her voice was steel as she cleaned the wound. “I’m also a mother of four rambunctious males who have given me more than enough experience to gauge the severity of a wound. This isn’t nearly as bad as it looks.”

It was a promise to Ria and a lie to Santos. The knife had cut a major vein, spewing copious amounts of precious blood. If she’d been fully human and not received medical attention immediately, she would be dead.

Then again, if she’d been fully human, she might not have gotten away in the first place.

Reaching for a large band aid, Melinda tossed over her shoulder, “There’s a robe in the dryer. Get it for me, please.” It took several moments, but the second Santos turned from the room, Melinda crouched down and covered the fist Ria had on her thigh. Hazel eyes, all too shrewd, looked her over.

“You’re not hurt elsewhere?” At Ria’s silent negative, Melinda added in the same nearly soundless tone, “Keep the jacket closed, otherwise Santos will blow a gasket.”

Face averted, Ria nodded, and gave a little start when soft fingers tilted her chin up to look into a face full of compassion. “He’s a good man. Seeing you hurt eats at his core. Nothing more, nothing less.” Her head cocked as if something just occurred to her. “Maybe more in this instance. Do you understand?”

Ria only had time to let her confusion show before Santos was back, a bundle of dark blue in his grasp. “Got it.”

Melinda straightened, ripping the packet in her hand open and deftly setting the band aid in place. “Put on the robe,” she told Ria, “and leave all your clothes here. I’ll take care of them.”

When Santos didn’t move, Melinda put a hand on his chest and pushed. “Let the girl change in peace. After we get some orange juice and a few cookies in her, she’ll need to take it easy, but she’ll be fine.”

His eyes skated from Ria to his mom. “You said it wasn’t bad.”

Melinda let out an exasperated sigh. “Quit hovering. Women lose more blood then this every month.”

Ria nearly choked at the look on his face, but it did the trick. Though still clearly reluctant, Santos edged back and Melinda shut the door behind them.

Rising from the toilet, Ria quickly stripped, wincing as each layer – t-shirt, tank top and bra – pulled at the dried blood on her torso. Her pants and underwear were also toast. Naked, she wet another towel with warm water and made short work cleaning the remaining blood from her body. Then she slipped into the borrowed robe and belted it before looking at her reflection.

Though she was a little pale, the woman who stared back at her looked the same. Other than the new and simple bandaid, nothing of her ordeal showed on the outside. Her heart had returned to normal, her breathing regular.

It was a high probability Melinda knew Ria’s secret, and, considering Ria had always thought shifters and vampires enemies, hadn’t run screaming for pitchforks and wooden stakes. No. The woman had tended to Ria’s hurts, showed deep concern and anger at her ordeal, and then lied to her eldest son.

Ria nibbled on her bottom lip, pondering that, and the very real possibility that these people just might be her salvation.

But first she had to summon the nerve to ask for help.