Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
While most of Emma’s body had been encapsulated in a cocoon of agony, there were areas where nerve damage robbed her of sensation. Then there were spots that had been laid bare like a wire with the coating scraped away.
The contact between them, as careful as Adrian tried to be, brought excruciating pain.
His arms, his hard body, even his clothing added to her misery.
Meanwhile, little more than threads and scraps of scorched cotton clung to her, melted into her skin but flaking off into ashes each time his movement jostled her.
Adrian carried her into a small, dimly lit room. Through the haze of agony, she didn’t see more than a bed and an old television. The moment she was lowered to the mattress, pain flashed along every undamaged nerve from the back of her thighs to her shoulders.
“Em. Emma, lass. Stay with me. You need blood.”
He disappeared, only to return moments later from the kitchen, appearing grim. His eyes burned with anger.
The fridge must have been empty.
On the threshold of succumbing to her injuries, she came around to consciousness again, to the taste of blood on her lips. Adrian’s blood. He’d given her precious droplets to rouse her.
“You need to feed, Emma. C’mon. Wake up.”
He loomed over her, deep furrows etched into his brow and fear in his eyes. She smelled it too, the bitter notes of worry surrounding him.
“M’woke,” was all she could slur. “Woke.”
“No, you’re barely there.” His voice cracked with relief. “I thought you were….”
“No… just so tired.”
Adrian had shrugged out of his jacket and exposed his brawny arms. Twin gouges from his own fangs glistened on his wrist, welling with fresh blood. “You need to feed, and we’re lacking humans to use.”
And if he brought her a human, if she lasted long enough for him to procure one, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t drain them until she was sucking on a dry vein.
Part of her wanted him to let her die. At least then the suffering would end.
“Emma, please. I’ve already been nursing you with my blood for an hour. Just a little more. I know it hurts to move, lass, but you’ve got to do this for me. I need you to take a little more.”
She tensed then regretted the minute movement. The burns had scorched muscle-deep, and she wondered how monstrous she looked to him, grateful they hadn’t passed a mirror in the safe house.
“No,” she croaked. Her fangs elongated, a natural physiological response to the temptation of blood. “Not like this.”
Adrian knelt beside the bed and brought his face to her level. “There’s no other option. If you don’t drink, it could be days before you heal... or....”
Or she might not live at all. The unspoken words hung in the air between them, the agonizing truth evident in his terrified eyes.
He offered his arm to her again, and one look cramped her stomach with hunger.
Even through the pain, the intoxicating scent of him rushed through her.
Her nostrils flared and her mouth watered.
Although it hurt to move even a millimeter, she seized his arm and sank her fangs into his wrist. Hot, sweet blood flooded her mouth.
With each pump of his heart, her pain receded.
Her body wanted to surrender, but his blood warred against the natural progression of death.
Too weakened to continue, she collapsed against the sheets again.
Bits and flakes of her own ashes stained the pristine white linen, and what she saw of her own body was ghastly. For the first time, she saw the burns.
If she survived, would she ever resemble herself again?
For a while, she was delirious with pain, drifting in and out of consciousness as Adrian force fed her. Like sweet velvet, his blood went down her throat whether she was awake or not.
The next time she stirred awake, the pain had faded into a tolerable ache. His life energy, the very essence of Adrian, coursed through her, filling out lost muscle tissue and repairing damaged blood vessels.
Realizing she was finally free of pain, she curled one hand around his forearm. “Emma, slow down.” Adrian’s low murmur sounded far away, distant.
At some point, she didn’t know when, he’d tried to remove his arm from her hold and she’d sat up, following him. Her fingers were no longer blackened claws. Pink skin spread to them down her arms.
“Emma,” Adrian urged her again. “That’s enough, lass.”
Enough so soon? She wanted more. Her hold on his wrist tightened, and she swallowed another decadent mouthful.
He extricated himself from her grip and the world tilted, the mattress under her back again.
The thick comforter cradled her body without discomfort.
She’d healed from top to bottom, and where there had been a canvas of blistered, flaking flesh, she was once again healthy, the new skin satin smooth and sensitive to the touch.
Sweet relief.
But now that she’d tasted him, she didn’t know if she’d gotten enough. If she could ever have enough. Didn’t know how she could go another day without the rich warmth of him on her tongue.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. You’ve been asleep on and off for hours now.
It’ll be dawn soon.” Appearing uncertain, Adrian stared at her—not her nudity, but at her body and a recovery that could only be called miraculous.
Nothing about his awestruck gaze came off as sensual.
“I didn’t think you were going to make it, even with my blood at first, but… what the hell are you, Em?”
Wanting to hide from his scrutiny, Emma drew her knees toward her chest. Had she ever heard of any vampire, save an elder, surviving exposure to the sun? “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t have one for you,” she whispered.
Adrian rose from the bedside and tugged his phone from his hip pocket. “Get some rest, Emmaleigh. We’ll stay here another day at least.”
“Who are you calling?”
“Overseers. I need to let them know we’ve got a hunter problem in Atropos.”
“Magic problems too. He was a mage, wasn’t he?”
“Definitely a mage, and probably the one with Sariel’s stone. I felt it when I entered the kitchen.”
While he handled business, Emma pulled off the scrappy remnants of her clothing.
After removing a few scorched threads of denim and bloodstained cotton, she wiggled beneath the comforter.
Goose bumps rose against her newly healed skin, and she shivered, wondering if the little house came equipped with heating.
Her hair was the worst crime. It had been lovely and shoulder length. Now, most of it had been seared away, and what remained formed baby curls no longer than her thumb.
I always wanted to try a pixie cut, right? Struggling to see the bright side, she ran her fingers through her scorched hair and counted herself fortunate it hadn’t burned to the scalp and left her bald.
In the adjacent room, Adrian’s voice raised in disbelief, reaching her through the walls with hints of his native accent bleeding through each incredulous word. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Help wouldn’t come.
When he returned, his gray eyes were stormy.
“What’s wrong?”
“Heloise is traveling through El Paso, but she’s got a hunch about Margot, thanks to you. Now the council won’t allow her to return.”
“What about the other Overseers?”
Adrian shook his head. “We’re on our own.”
“Fucking sadists,” Emma hissed.
Given an impossible mission, then obstructed at every turn. Had they set her up for failure, hoping she’d lose?
No. Of course not. A loss for her was a victory for Sariel, which could only result in hundreds of dead vampires. No. Thousands.
But shouldn’t stopping Sariel be priority over finding Margot? The former coven mistress may have had an Ancient for a meal, but she wasn’t capable of the large-scale slaughter Emma expected from a fallen angel.
Clenching and unclenching his jaw, Adrian studied the face of his cellphone, then shoved it into his pocket. “I’m going to go into town and see what’s going on now. Maybe let the local witch know what’s happened.”
Before he could take a step from the bedroom, Emma flew from the bed and clutched his arm. “No, don’t go.”
“Why not?”
Emma scrambled to find an answer, only for the most obvious one to come to her. Without looking up to enjoy his reaction, she fished his phone from his pocket and glanced at the time. “It’s four-thirty in the morning. You’ll be hexed before you can even state your case.”
“Shit,” he growled. “Fine. You’re right. Let me grab your belongings out of the trunk, at least.”
He returned with her luggage, but sliding into itchy, scratchy clothing was the last thing Emma wanted to do. At least the high-thread-count sheets hadn’t irritated her skin.
“Is there a way to raise the temperature in here?”
“Maybe. There’s no central heating, but that’s a space heater in the corner.”
The appliance clicked once or twice when he depressed the button; then the gas ignited and the pilot light flared bright blue. Emma’s sigh of relief made him chuckle.
“You wouldn’t be so cold if you were dressed. And if you had some more blood in you.”
Her belly rumbled. Whether it was desire for more blood or actual food, she couldn’t tell. A vampire body craved both to survive, though the latter was mental sustenance more than anything and provided less actual nutrition.
Adrian deliberately focused his attention above her shoulders, maintaining eye contact despite her unfortunate state of nudity. He took her face between his hands and held her gaze.
“That’s my cue to find you some food. You need more blood, Emma.”
“I don’t want anyone else’s blood.”
Emma turned her face into one hand cupping her cheek. She inhaled, wondering if he would taste as delicious the second time. Before she could lose her nerve, she skated the edge of her teeth against his wrist. His pulse sang out to her, a siren beckoning her to take more.