Rans had canted his body half-sideways on the seat of the motorcycle to watch me. I realized that sitting behind him like this, I had him hemmed in, so I stood up, bracing myself on unsteady knees. Once I was clear of the bike, he swung a leg over in a smooth, practiced movement and stood in front of me.
“All right there, luv?” he asked.
His eyes were such an unusual shade of blue. The inner fire from earlier was gone, but even now, I was in danger of getting lost in them.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “What now?”
“We’ll take the lift upstairs.”
I did a quick English-to-American translation and realized he meant an elevator. I could see a set of stainless steel double doors in the corner, so I nodded.
“Okay,” I said, and tried to take a step in that direction.
My vision tunneled in from the sides and the muscles in my legs turned to rubber. A strong arm caught me around the shoulders, keeping me from face-planting on the concrete floor.
“Hmm,” Rans said. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“I’m all right,” I tried to protest, hearing how reedy my voice sounded. “M’okay.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
I breathed deeply, trying to push the gray fog from my vision. “Jus’... give me a minute...”
“I would, but I’m not sure a minute is going to help much.” I was distantly aware as Rans pulled one of my arms over his shoulders and rearranged his grip around my waist. “Now, come along, tough girl. Let’s get you someplace where you can sit down and rest while I get this mess sorted out.”
I nodded rather than waste breath on words. Rans led me to the elevator and I focused on shuffling one heavy foot in front of the other. On some level, I became aware that I was leaning on a man with an untreated knife wound.
“Your shoulder,” I slurred.
“One nice thing about black leather; it’s brilliant for hiding bloodstains.” The words were wry.
“But—” I protested.
“It’s fine. It’s already healing.”
That... didn’t seem right somehow, but I let it go. The elevator doors opened with a ding, then closed behind us a moment later, shutting out the view of the parking area full of expensive cars and one sleek black motorcycle. Rans pressed the button for the top floor, and entered another complicated code on the keypad next to it.
My heavy body grew heavier as we accelerated upward. He supported me easily, his grip never wavering. I knew I was plastering myself against him like a cheap whore, but I didn’t have the strength to stand on my own.
And, if I were being honest, it felt... really good. He felt really good.
His leather jacket was cool against my feverish body. His arm around me was sure and strong. He smelled like some exotic blend of spices underlaid with musk. I wanted to nuzzle against the bare skin of his neck. I blinked rapidly, appalled with myself.
Even now, my mind was coming up with this kind of inappropriate shit? What the hell was wrong with me?
Fortunately for Rans’ virtue and my sanity, the elevator came to a smooth stop and disgorged us into a posh entryway with a single white door across the way. He supported me over to it and mashed the button on a small intercom unit set in the wall.
“Guthrie, mate—you in there?” he asked. “Got a bit of a situation here.”
A few moments passed while I tried to ignore the heat building beneath my skin and the pleasant tingles radiating outward from where his fingers splayed across my ribcage, supporting me. The click of a lock disengaging preceded the door swinging open to reveal a frowning black man with a vaguely familiar face.
Guthrie Leonides, my mind offered helpfully. Rans’ friend from the restaurant the other day.
Guthrie’s sad, dark eyes ran over us, the silence stretching for an awkward beat. I could only imagine what I must look like—half-dead and half-debauched as I hung all over Rans, staring back at Guthrie with my jaw slack.
“Do I want to know?” Guthrie asked eventually.
“Nope,” Rans said briskly, popping the ‘p.’ “But if you ask nicely, I’ll tell you anyway—later. For now, I need someplace to hide out and a couple of fake IDs. So, are you going to invite me in?”
My fractured attention swung to Rans’ face, just in time to catch the faintly unhinged smile he threw his friend. My brain clicked a moment later, and I realized it was a joke. Inviting the vampire in.
Guthrie’s answering expression was definitely nearer to the resigned end of the spectrum than the amused one. “Come on in, you undead English asshole. And hello again, Miss...?”
“Bright,” I managed. “Call me Zorah.”
Guthrie held the door open for us. Once Rans had maneuvered me through, he closed it and I heard the lock click into place. Again, I should probably have been terrified—alone in a locked apartment with two men I didn’t know, so weak I could barely stand on my own. Instead, the sound of that lock engaging made the remaining tension in my shoulders slide away into sweet, blissful relief.
Safe, my instincts insisted. You’re safe now.
“I think I need to sit down,” I said in a quavering voice.
“I think you need to sleep for the next day or so,” Rans shot back, eyeing me like he thought I was about to pass out on him. It wasn’t a completely irrational concern on his part.
Guthrie was also watching me with a worried frown. “Take her to the guest room. Do I need to get a doctor up here?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Rans said. “Though it’s likely there’s not much a human doctor could do for her.”
“Huh?” I blinked at him stupidly, trying to keep up with the cryptic conversation while also trying not to fall over. It was becoming surprisingly difficult to juggle those two things.
“Right.” Guthrie sounded grim. “I’m guessing this falls under the
