I sigh with one part sadness, one part desire. Both are felt deep in my heart. I know he’ll wake up and still feel nothing for me, but knowing how close I just came to losing him makes me realize how undead my love is.
I press the bag to my mouth and bite down, tasting the salty tang on my tongue. Gross. I’ll never get used to this. I lean down and press my lips to Michael’s. He feels warm to me now that I’m like him. In fact, his mouth has never felt more right, more delicious.
I kiss him softly and then start the process of bringing him back. My love. My fanged love. If only my feelings were enough to bring his heart back too.
But perhaps it is time I start accepting that he might be this way for good.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Michael
When I wake, I’m in a strange room and the librarian’s mouth is on mine. My stomach is full and warm with blood, while her hot lips heat the rest of me. I’m aroused?
I find it entirely fascinating that my body seems to have its own agenda when it comes to her. But if the stirring in my shorts is any indication, perhaps the connection between us has not waned as much as I’d thought.
My thoughts of physical pleasure evaporate suddenly when I catch Nice’s very un-nice scent in the air, along with Lula’s sweet perfume.
I place a hand on Miriam’s shoulder.
She startles and pulls away. “You’re awake,” she whispers, her eyes wide with affection.
“Yes. And you must’ve been damned desperate to bring me here for help.”
With the back of her hand, the librarian wipes a bit of red from the corner of her sensual lips. I cannot recall her ever doing anything so sexual. Other than sex with me, of course.
“You were about to dust,” she says. “There was no other choice.”
I sit up and blink the room into focus. Nice is lying on his back, and Lula is plunging what appears to be a very sharp turkey baster into his thigh.
“What happened to him?” I ask.
Lula lifts her chin. “It’s an apology. To you.”
I have learned not to trust anything Lula says. The list of her betrayals and lies is a mile long. “You could have incapacitated him anytime over the past few months. Why now?”
“Because I suspected you would come after him once you figured out I was the one calling and hanging up. And when you came, I wanted you to see—with your own eyes—that I am on your side and forever will be. You are my brother, Michael. Metaphorically speaking, of course, because we’re not actually related and we banged one out a few years back. A horrible screw, by the way. Not enough hip action. Nevertheless, we have the same corrupt, insane, and very dead maker, so that makes us family. Also, I didn’t really want to be alone when I injected Nice. I don’t exactly have a place to lock him up.”
I glance at the librarian, whose mouth is twisted to one side like she’s just bitten into a rotten apple with a worm, and that worm is now wriggling in her mouth. I wonder if it is Lula’s description of our lackluster intercourse. Honestly, it was pity sex. I did not enjoy it. No spark.
“Well, Lula,” I say, “I thank you for saving me and capturing this outlaw. Now we must return to Cincinnati so we can detain Mr. Nice properly.” There is no amount of chocolate that will keep him sedated forever. He is much too strong, and if we attempt to increase the dosage, it could actually kill him. I need him alive.
I get to my feet and look at the librarian, who seems rather forlorn. “What is rippling your pond, woman? We have triumphed.”
She shakes her head and refuses to tell me.
“As you wish.” I go for the dormant Nice and throw him over my shoulder. “We need a vehicle to transport us to the airstrip.”
“My car is downstairs in the garage,” says Lula. “I’ll go and pull it around by the back stairs.”
“Very good. We must move fast so the hotel security does not see us. And do not forget to bring more sedatives.”
Lula nods and dashes out of the room. I turn to follow.
“Wait.” The librarian grabs hold of my free arm.
“What?”
“I’m not coming with you,” she says.
What the devil? “Why not?” I am in no mood for disobedience or debates. I have what I came for. It is time to go.
“Because,” she replies, a slight edge to her voice, which I find strangely erotic, “the person who shot you with an arrow is still out there. And as long as he is, we’re not safe.”
What Miriam does not understand is that in our world, there is always something going on: spies, rogue vampires, society disputes, assassins, coups. This serum is more important. We simply need to be careful. I will deal with the assassin another day.
“All right then,” I say, “you may stay and hunt down the assassin. Meanwhile, I must get Nice back to my lab. Come. Help me get him to the car and on the plane. Then you may go on your way.”
Miriam
I know it sounds crazy, but I’m beginning to think that Michael isn’t actually an emotional Stonehenge. Any rational person can see that he has an agenda, and it isn’t entirely rooted in duty. There was a distinct air of pride in his voice just now when he mentioned going back to his lab.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t change my situation. This human who’s hunting us traveled from Arizona to Florida and knew exactly when and where to strike. Michael might have his agenda, but I have mine, too: solving this puzzle. Who are they? Why do they want us both dead? How
