Sexiest Vampire Alive

west. It will take a while—”

“I don’t want to wait.” She wiped tears from her face.

“I have private jet,” Kyo suggested. “Mortal pilot.”

“Ye do?” Angus asked.

Kyo nodded. “I like it. I ride in back and sleep in coffin. I don’t have to wait for sun to set.” He turned to Abigail. “I get you out of Japan. My jet take you to Hawaii. Then you get plane home.”

“No!” Gregori shouted. “She’s not leaving. We have to talk this out.”

“Let her go and think things over,” Angus muttered.

“Yuki is my chauffeur,” Kyo said. “I have him take you to airport.” He punched some buttons on the intercom, then opened the door.

“Thank you, Kyo. You’ve been very kind.” She stepped outside.

A black Town Car drove up, and she climbed into the backseat while Kyo gave the chauffeur instructions. As Yuki drove away, more tears streamed down her face.

She was leaving Gregori. After he nearly died to save your life. She pushed that thought aside.

He’d also screwed with her mind. Erased her memory. She might not have gone on the mission if she’d found something useful in his blood. When she thought about all they’d suffered through—Gregori’s wounds and Howard’s torture—more tears ran down her cheeks.

He refused to give her his blood. Refused to trust her. Refused to help her mother.

But he loves you. You love him. He almost died to save your life.

No. She wouldn’t think about that. She couldn’t.

He might have saved her life.

But he’d broken her heart.

Chapter Thirty

Gregori paced in his office at Romatech. Desperate times called for desperate measures. And he was desperate.

Time for Plan C.

He squeezed a stress ball. He’d devised the plans on the way back to New York. There’d been several layovers, while he, Angus, and Robby had waited for the sun to set at the next destination. He’d had plenty of time to figure out how to get Abby back. Angus and Robby had offered their advice—beg and grovel—but he hoped to avoid that. After all, he’d saved her life. He deserved some respect, dammit.

But it wasn’t going well. Plan A had been a miserable failure. He’d based it on the premise that their squabble had been unimportant in the big scheme of things. They loved each other, so any minor disappointments could be easily smoothed over.

He called to see if she’d arrived home safely. She wouldn’t pick up his calls. He left cheerful messages and sent flowers to her at the White House. Sent candy to her office. Sent more flowers and a fruit basket to her mother’s room at the hospital. Left more cheerful messages with assurances that he loved her and had every confidence they could weather this minor storm.

He got an inkling that it wasn’t working when the flowers were returned ground into mulch.

Undeterred, he moved swiftly on to Plan B—holding her plants hostage until she agreed to meet him. He sent more text messages, reminding her that her Tiger Paw plants were at Romatech. He was taking good care of them. And she could come pick them up some evening. Or he could deliver them to her personally at her lab.

No response.

He’d felt sure Plan B would work. Didn’t she want the damned plants? Didn’t she want to help her mother? He saw on the news that the first lady was failing fast.

Abigail felt betrayed. He realized that now. And his only hope at winning her back was Plan C.

He dropped the stress ball on his desk, picked up the small package he’d prepared for her, and slipped it inside a coat pocket. He’d waited till it was three in the morning, assuming the hospital would be quiet and free from visitors.

“Good luck,” he murmured to himself, and teleported to Belinda Tucker’s hospital room.

It was dark, except for the lights of the monitor screens. The first lady lay in her bed asleep, her face pale.

Across the private room, he saw Abigail sleeping on a couch. Dark circles smudged her eyes, and her nose looked red as if she’d been crying too much.

“I’m sorry, Abby,” he whispered.

In the corner, a young man was sprawled on an easy chair, also sleeping. Gregori recognized him as Abby’s brother, Lincoln.

Sleep. He directed a mental command at both Abby and her brother. He couldn’t afford to have them wake up until Plan C was fully implemented.

The door opened and a male nurse walked in. He was a young man, dressed in white, with blond curly hair. He didn’t look alarmed at the sight of Gregori.

He smiled. “How may I help you?”

Gregori shot a spurt of mind control at him, but wasn’t sure he was getting through. “I want to give blood to her.” He motioned to Belinda. “A direct transfusion. My blood type is the same as hers.” He’d been drinking nothing but Type O for several nights to make sure he matched up.

The nurse inclined his head. “I will do as you ask.”

“Good.” He must have the nurse under his control after all. He took off his coat and laid it on the coffee table close to Abigail.

The nurse inserted a needle into Belinda’s left arm, since her right arm was connected to an IV. “Bring a chair over here.”

Gregori carried a lightweight plastic chair over to the other side of the bed. He sat and rolled up his sleeve.

The nurse rubbed alcohol on the crook of his elbow, then inserted a needle. Soon, blood was streaming through a tube into Belinda.

After about ten minutes, her face took on some color. She opened her eyes, saw the nurse, and smiled. “You came back.”

“Yes.” The nurse nodded, smiling back at her. “And someone else has come to help you.”

Her eyes widened when she noticed Gregori. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to help.”

Her gaze shifted to the tube inserted in her arm. “You’re giving me vampire blood?” She stiffened. “I won’t become a vampire, will I?”

“No,” Gregori assured her. “It won’t harm you in any way.”

“You will be fine,” the nurse said softly. “Trust me.”

“I do,” she replied.

The nurse smiled and motioned toward Gregori. “You can trust him, too.”

Belinda gave him a curious look.

“This will be enough.” The nurse disconnected them, then smoothed a bandage over Belinda’s puncture. He stuck another bandage on Gregori’s arm.

“Thank you.” Gregori rolled down his sleeve.

Belinda looked over at Abigail asleep on the couch, then turned back to Gregori. “You broke her heart.”

“I know. I’m . . . trying to mend it.”

“By mending me?” She smiled. “I do feel much better.”

“I’m glad.” He sighed. “I should have helped you earlier. I’m sorry.”

“Abby told me you were trying to protect your people, that you feared they would be hunted down for their blood.”