Cassidy was on guard for. Something…smoke. The sweet bite of flaming cedar. Gone. It must be daytime again.
Or she was dead.
Opening her eyes felt like pouring wet sand across her eyeballs. The afterlife slowly came into focus. It looked an awful lot like a hospital room.
Her thoughts stumbled around her skull, looking for answers to questions she didn’t know how to ask. She blinked several times and scanned the details of her surroundings. A window with drapes drawn, subdued lighting. The colorful bouncing lines of a vital stats monitor, a mechanical chill in the air. A TV suspended near the ceiling was tuned to a muted football game.
She started furrowing her forehead in confusion, but even this tiny effort bordered on too much work.
“Baby girl? You awake?”
No. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Her father, the large, boisterous coward of a man who couldn’t handle illness, much less hospitals, leaned over her. The recessed lighting above her head highlighted the worry lines in his round, unshaven face. His presence was so incongruous she could only stare.
His smile beamed like a full moon. Was that moisture glinting in his eyes? He took her hand and squeezed. “You’re going to be fine, Cassidy. You’re at a top-notch hospital. They’re patching you up.” He swiped at his eyes. “You’ll be good as new, baby girl. Good as new.”
Cassidy was more disoriented than ever. She had been held hostage by a vampire, brought within kissing distance of death, was certain she would be an immortal blood-drinker by the time she could string two coherent thoughts together again, and now it was her father—her father who couldn’t possibly know what happened to her—who was telling her she would be all right?
She licked her lips and swallowed. “Where…where is—”
“Jackson? He went to get us some coffee. Should be back any minute.” He tapped a half-collapsed bag hanging off an IV hook with one finger and chuckled with obvious relief. “They told me you’d probably come around with this one. Wasn’t gonna chance missing you wake up.”
A dark-red tube ran from the bag. She followed it with her eyes to the other end, where it was attached to an infusion needle embedded in and taped to her left arm.
“That’s right, baby girl. Take as much as you need. Even if it’s my last drop.” Another swipe at his eyes. “Yeah, that’s mine.” He turned his free arm to reveal a bandage in the crook of his elbow. “By the time I got here, you had cleared them out of O-negative just to pull you back through death’s door, so I said ‘plug me in’. I’m the reason you’re stuck with this blood type, after all. Besides, I owe you.”
She pulled her hand out of his. “What you owe me, a pint of blood will never make up for.”
He inclined his head, pushed out his lips, and nodded. “I know that, too, but maybe…it could be a down payment?”
Cassidy closed her eyes. Exhaustion pulled at her. She couldn’t think about this. Not now.
The awkward silence grew so thick it squeezed all the air out of the room. It all rushed back in when the door opened to admit Jackson.
“Any change?”
“She’s awake. But she still hates me.”
Jackson put down two steaming paper cups and cellophane-wrapped muffins and came to her side. Dressed in blue jeans and a polo shirt, he looked like his typical deceptively casual self, but something about his movements made her head hurt. They were smoother, easier, more efficient than was usual for his tightly wound, muscle-bound frame.
“Cass? Babe? How are you feeling?”
“What is he doing here?” she said, shooting a narrow glance toward her father.
“I’m your father, and you need me. Of course, I’m here.”
She gaped at him. It looked like her father, but certainly didn’t behave like the man who couldn’t be bothered to show up for his wife’s chemo treatments. Maybe she really had died. Too much felt off here.
Jackson softly cleared his throat. “Gil’s blood saved your life.” His hand settled on hers. “Cass, you were halfway turned. The serum annihilated everything we put in you until we finally drowned it out. With your dad’s blood.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It was close.”
She opened her mouth but stopped. Her sluggish thoughts connected the dots a little faster now and the picture they painted felt ominous. Being restored to humanity was a bonus, true, but that hadn’t been the plan, especially not this late in the game. Dominique was going to give her his blood. Kambyses would have allowed nothing else short of letting her die—certainly not her getting carted off to a hospital. Yet here she was. And no vampire in sight…
The bouncing lines on the monitor sped up. Her voice sounded strangled. “Did you kill him? Did you kill them all?”
Jackson hesitated a moment too long. Cassidy tried to sit up, but he put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back into the pillows. “Easy. Kambyses lives. But he won’t be bothering you again.”
“I don’t understand. How is this possible?” She followed Jackson’s glance toward her father.
Gil still only looked relieved to see her awake and recovering. No hint of worry, much less confusion about their odd exchange. “Dominique took care of everything, baby girl. You’re safe now.”
She felt like she did back on Apokryphos, when people spouted perfectly reasonable nonsense at her. Jackson and Garrett were compelled then—as her father must be now. The noxious panic bubbling at the back of her mind ebbed a bit. There was only one vampire who would have an interest in compelling Gil Chandler.
“Where’s Dominique?”
Jackson’s face soured. “He’s got a few more hours of night left. I’m sure he’ll be here before dawn. I texted him earlier that you’d be pulling through.”
She blinked, incredulous. “You two are on texting terms?” What sort of drugs had they doped her with?
“You’re very lucky that they’re both crazy about you,” her father said, startling her again with his presence, which she continued to tune out. “And they’re men enough to put aside their differences when it counts.”
“Their differences? Do you understand that they’re mortal enemies?”
“Yes, I do. Makes them working together for you so much more special, doesn’t it?” He shook his head and let out a rueful sigh. “I only wish I hadn’t shot him.”
Cassidy stared. She hadn’t heard right, had she?
“What?” Jackson said, sounding as lost as she felt.
“I shot Dominique. By accident, I swear,” he added, hands raised in defense.
“You what?” Cassidy croaked, trying to struggle upright again. This time, Jackson didn’t stop her, but she ran out of steam anyway and flopped back into her pillows.
“Iris scared the ever-loving shit out of me when she screamed. I had my finger on the trigger.” He shrugged, chagrined.
She glanced at Jackson. There was not a shred of comprehension on his face. “What do you mean, you shot Dominique?”
Gil rubbed at his face, more uncomfortable than she had ever seen him, but stayed put. No shrugging it off, no shouting, no turning his back in disgust. Was this part of Dominique’s compulsion? Or a side-effect?
“He shouldn’t have rung the bell as hard as he did,” Gil said. Blame the victim. Nice touch. “We thought it was a home invasion or a prankster. Iris pulled a shotgun out from under her bed, and I grabbed it, thinking I would scare them off.” Another shrug. “She didn’t tell me the damn thing was loaded.”
Cassidy’s jaw dropped. No words. She had no words. Not for any part of what she was hearing.
Seeing her reaction, Gil raised a placating hand. “But, look, it all worked out. He healed up quick enough, then told me what was going on and brought me here. That bike of his can really move, let me tell you.”
“Oh. My. God.” Never mind Dominique getting shot—she had seen him survive far worse—but the imagined visuals of her bear of a father hanging on to the feline vampire while speeding through highway traffic on a high-performance motorcycle were beyond bizarre.
“Ditto,” Jackson murmured. He eyed Gil with a grim, unreadable expression.
“Now you tell me what happened, Jack. If Kambyses still lives, why am I here?”
He unfolded his arms, face softening. “Don’t try to wrap your head around everything right now, Cass. Too much has happened. Concentrate on getting better. That’s the only thing that matters.”
“No. It’s not. Tell me what happened.”
He didn’t want to. She could tell by the way his mouth went as hard as his eyes. She mustered the most determined glare she could, her hands fisting around wads of the thin blanket. His only recourse was to walk out of the room, or tell her.
He told her.
The tale that emerged was a harrowing recounting of Bijou’s death, Garrett’s mortal injury, Serge’s insistence on saving him, and the effects of ingesting vampire blood on both him and Garrett. Together with Dominique, through a combination of serendipity, cunning, and accident, they’d cornered the oldest vampire on earth. All while she lay unconscious on the battlefield.
“Nick and Kambyses came to an…agreement, I guess.” Tight smile. “The important thing is that we got you to an ER in time to save your life,” Jackson concluded.
She met his eyes evenly. Something about how he inclined his head all but commanded her to not ask any more questions. “You know he’s going to tell me when I see him, don’t you? What really happened?”
He shrugged. “He’d be the one to ask, yes.”
Her energy flagging, she let it go. At least for now. Her fingers picked at the edge of the blanket. “What do the doctors here think is wrong with me?”
His shoulders visibly relaxed at the change of subject. “You have a very rare genetic disorder that periodically causes your body to destroy its own blood supply.”
“I do?”
“You do,” Gil agreed. “Sad but true. Runs in the family. I told them how poor cousin Clive kicked the bucket because of it.” The melodramatic expression on his face melted into a twinkling smile. Clive Chandler had died of stupidity while under the influence.
“Garrett has a doctor in Sweden in his pocket who called and confirmed the condition as well.”
“Gee. Feed that man vampire blood, and he turns into a human being. Figures.”
“Then you give him too much credit, chérie,” a new voice said, soft and warm as a summer wind caressing her battered heart.
Sweet relief rushed through her. “Dominique.”
He was a tall, dark vision melting out of the shadows by the door. Black leathers, jacket unzipped, no swords, ebony hair tucked behind his ears except for the curl that always insisted on falling over his forehead. A gentle smile softened his clean-shaven angular face and danced in the depths of his hazel eyes.
Gil stood. “Hey, it’s the man of the hour. Or should I say, man of the night?” He chuckled. “How’d you get in here?”
“I have my ways,” Dominique said. He accepted Gil’s offered hand and then leaned forward to peck quick kisses on the man’s flushed cheeks in a familial French greeting that made Cassidy’s brows shoot up.
Her father was too caught up in his own sentiments to be more than mildly surprised. He clasped Dominique’s elegant hand with his beefy paws. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for Cassidy, Nick. And I apologize again for shooting you.”
Dominique retrieved his hand and grasped one side of his open jacket, pulling it away to reveal a slug-sized hole in the leather. “You weren’t the only one who shot me tonight,” he said with a pointed look at Jackson, who had neglected to mention this particular detail to Cassidy earlier. Dominique turned back to Gil. “But it was a small price to pay for you being here when she needed you. Finally.”
The quiet sarcasm wasn’t lost on Gil, who dropped his gaze and nodded to himself, lips pursed. A moment later, he swiped at his nose. “Yeah, well. She’s my daughter. Right?”
Nice of you to remember, Cassidy thought, but the words didn’t find her tongue. She didn’t have the strength to pick over these old bones now.
When Gil met Dominique’s gaze again, the vampire’s eyes had darkened along with his voice. “You should go get some rest now. When you wake, you will remember nothing unusual about tonight. Only that your daughter lives and you helped save her.”
“Oh, you’re doing that thing—” Gil broke off. The finger he pointed at Dominique hesitated, curled, uncertain. He scratched the back of his head. “You know, you’re right. I am kind of wiped. Think I’ll go find a place to stretch out. You mind, baby girl?”
He didn’t wait for her to reply before yawning hugely, grabbing his windbreaker off another chair, and ambling out the door.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Jackson said when Dominique turned to him. “Don’t even start with me.”
Dominique tipped his head, raised an inquiring brow.
For several more seconds, Jackson glared, his cheeks twitching with his clenching jaw. “Fine. I’m leaving.” He scooped up a coffee and muffin and headed for the door. He was halfway through it when he turned back and said, “No biting.”
“No biting,” Dominique confirmed after a brief hesitation.
Pulling off his jacket, he dropped it into Gil’s vacated chair. His shirt was clean and unmarred, obviously not the one he had gotten repeatedly shot in tonight. He settled on the side of Cassidy’s bed, leaned over, and placed a kiss on each of her cheeks. Then he gathered her close so gingerly he seemed to expect her to break into pieces. She answered with all the strength she could marshal, winding her arms around his bunched shoulders, pushing her fingers through his thick hair, drowning in the distinct, familiar smell of him: ice and snow, leather and night. His sigh caressed her shoulder as he inhaled her in turn, both of them delirious with relief.
No words passed between them. No thoughts hummed in their non-existent link. There was only this embrace, as raw as it was tender, suspending them in a singular moment of gratitude and love—and uncertainty.
Whispers in the back of her mind. She pushed them aside again and again. Yet they continued to rise with every slow stroke of his thumb along her neck, and with every breath that didn’t culminate with his lips against her skin.
The whispers became a buzz.
“No biting?” she ventured. Much as she hated being separated from him like this, she could understand it. Her body had only just triumphed over a heavy serum load. A bite now might upset a delicate balance. Dominique could have given this possibility as a reason, but he didn’t.
He said nothing.
She loathed breaking the silence, but for this answer she could wait no longer. “Where is Kambyses?”
Dominique raised himself up far enough to peer down at her with sad human eyes. Even the gold flecks she so loved to watch dance with mischief were muted. “He lives.”
“Obviously. But he didn’t just let me go, did he?”
He tucked in his chin and looked away. “No. He did not.”
The building anxiety threatened to eat up all that precious fresh blood in her veins. “Jackson said…Jackson said you and Kambyses came to an…agreement.”
“Of a sort.” His mouth twisted with irony. His eyes glistened when they met hers again. “I…I have accepted what I am, Cassidy. I will fight no more.”
Chills raced up her arms. “What…what does that mean?”
“It means…that my place is with my sire. Allowing you to remain mortal is—”
“The bribe?”
“No. It’s…it’s his gift to me.”
“Allowing you to turn me was supposed to be his gift.” Her voice wobbled. Sobs gathered beneath a hard lump in her breast. “We were going to be together. Forever.”
“Oui. Forever with him. And he could have turned on us any time. We would have existed in constant fear of his whims. You deserve so much more.”
“Now I’m human and even more vulnerable.” A strange ringing filled her ears, along with the sound of her heart slamming hard enough to bruise her ribs. She almost didn’t hear him.
“Not if you never see either of us again.”
She moaned, a primal sound of denial. This could not be happening.
“You deserve a life, Cassie.” He captured her hand and squeezed, as if that would persuade her of his argument.
With her free hand, she grasped his forearm, the hard muscle and tendons achingly familiar beneath her fingers. She gripped hard, holding on to him, to life. “I can’t live as half a soul. I can’t.”
“Serge could com—”
“No, don’t you dare. If he makes me forget, all I’ll have is an emptiness in my heart I won’t even know can be filled. I’ll be hollow until the day I die.”
The shimmer in his eyes swelled and broke free into glistening tracks down his face.
Questions tore from her body in raw, bleeding chunks. “Why didn’t you give me the blood? Why didn’t you turn me? Why didn’t you give us the time to figure this out? Why?”
He drew an unsteady breath. “Because, mon amour. We were doomed from the beginning. An immortal and a human. It was madness. Madness,” he repeated in a terse whisper, his French accent thickening.
“It’s the only true thing I’ve ever known.”
He pressed his hand to the side of her face. “For all the rest of my nights, I will never forget the gift of your love, of this magical light you have brought into my lonely darkness. You, Cassidy, allowed me one final, precious glimpse of the life I loved. For this, I will be forever grateful. But I know now what I am, what I must do. Kambyses has shown me. There can be no going back.”
She sobbed without reservation now. Her entire body shook with grief. Her fingers clawed into his arms as though she could keep him there with her mere mortal strength alone. Forever. “You should have turned me. Why didn’t you turn me?”
He scooped her up, lifting her into a sitting position, pulled her close. Tremors chased each other through his bunched muscles.
His whispers brushed her ear, words from another reality. “You deserve to live the life I will never have, Cassie, mon cœur. That is my gift to you.”