Bite. Part 33

wanted. You can do this."

She closed his mouth, worked his jaw, simulating a swallow. When she'd repeated the process three times with no effect, she slapped his cheek. "Don't you give up on me, dammit. You started all this. Don't quit on me now!"

She opened a bigger gash on the palm of her hand, let the blood stream freely onto the back of his throat for a full minute, then

closed his mouth and worked his throat again.

Tears welling in her eyes, she rubbed his chest, pounded on him with her fist, threatened and begged and pleaded with him to move until his left hand twitched.

She froze, watching, hoping.

His fingers clenched rhythmically. His eyes rolled to white, then back to murky green as his chest bowed. His back arched off the floor as if he'd been defibrillated and he dragged in a deep, rasping breath.

Remembering too clearly the confusion he would feel as he regained consciousness, the pain, the inexplicable rage and the blood l.u.s.t, she backed away. The next few moments would be worse than death, worse than a thousand deaths, but there was nothing she could do to help him. Not until his rage was spent.

Eyes wide and lips snarling, Daniel rolled to his knees, then staggered to his feet. He rushed the cement block wall of the storm shelter as if it were a demon after his own soul. He pounded the concrete with his fist. The flesh split, bone shattered, but he didn't bleed. He had no blood left.

She hated to see him hurting himself, but it didn't really matter. The pain of transformation was so great that he'd never notice a little thing like a few broken bones, and once he was undead, he would heal quickly.

Eventually his temper died to the point where he became aware of her. He c.o.c.ked his head and stared at her with insensible eyes.

Animal eyes.

She beckoned him with a motion of her hand. "Come to me," she said softly.

He growled and rolled to the b.a.l.l.s of his feet, ready for attack.

"Come to me."

His shoulders sagged. He slid one foot forward as if he were too tired to lift it.

"That's it. Come. It will get better soon. I have what you need."

He stumbled forward and fell into her arms. Gently, she lowered him to the dirt floor, their backs against the wall, and opened her

shirt. With a flick of her thumb she sliced the side of her breast, pulled his head down and stroked his hair as he fed.

D ANIEL had a vague notion that time had pa.s.sed, though he couldn't guess how much. Time seemed elastic now. Hours rushed by in the blink of an eye. Days were a blur of sleep, warm, coppery drink and soft hands.

The hands were on him now, pressing something cool and damp to his forehead. He opened his eyes and found her studying him.

"Daniel? Are you there?"

Arms shaking, he pushed himself up on one elbow. "Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?

She wrung out her cloth and laid it across the sports water bottle he remembered from her Jeep. "Never-never land, maybe? Or wherever you've been for the last three days."

"Three days?" He levered himself to a sitting position, leaned back against the block wall. "Jesus, I-"

He winced. It was like someone set off a firecracker in his head. He dug his fists into his eyes. "Christ."

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bright white lights exploded in his vision.

"You might want to choose a non-religious expression," Deadre said. "Vampires and Him don't mix too well."

"Vampires? What do you-" He pulled his hands away from his face and looked down at his chest. Had he always been so pale?

For that matter, how could he see his skin tone at all in the dark?

His gaze flew to hers. "Did you...? Am I...?"

Biting her lower lip, she nodded.

"I don't feel any different."

Never taking her eyes off his, she walked to him, picked up his hand and laid his palm over the left side of his chest. "Feel that?"

"No."

"Exactly."

He slid his hand side to side, searching. "My heart's not beating."

"You'll learn to make it beat when you want it to, later. Comes in handy when you have to get close to a mortal. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

She stared at the floor. "For killing you. I didn't mean to. I-I lost control."

He grabbed her by the upper arms, made her look at him. "I asked for this."

Her glistening eyes tore him apart inside. Amazing how his heart could be dead in his chest and still cause him so much pain.

Her bowstring lips quavered, and he couldn't stand to see them tremble, so he stopped them the only way he knew how. He

captured them with his own.

She stiffened, but only momentarily, then she leaned into him with a pleading mewl. He slipped his tongue past the seam of her lips

and answered with a groan. Their mouths fused, he tugged the hem of her tank top out of her leather pants and slid his hand underneath.

She might have been a creature of the night, but she felt more like an angel filling his palm. He backed her up to the wall and,

pinning her there, slipped a second hand under her shirt.

There were advantages he hadn't thought of to this vampire business, like not having to breathe. He could ply her with kisses endlessly, never breaking contact, while his stealthy hands kneaded her, memorized her shape and texture.

The underslopes of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were soft as clouds, the nipples tight as rosebuds. The tear-shaped sides were- b.l.o.o.d.y. A sticky mess.

He pulled his head back and yanked her shirt up. "Jesu-" he squeezed his eyes shut as a cherry bomb went off in his head.

"Ow!"

"I told you-"

"I know, I know." The flash of pain already receding, he squinted at her chest. "What the h.e.l.l happened to you?"

She hesitated only a moment. "You are a voracious eater."

"I did this?"

"Not exactly. I opened the wounds so you could feed."

Very tenderly, he lowered her shirt and then took a step back. "Thank you. I won't be feeding off you any longer."

He turned his back to her, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder before he could walk away.

"Whatever you're thinking, get over it. Feeding is a fact of life for vampires."

He wheeled. "Maybe it's time the facts of life changed."

Already he could feel the hunger gnawing at his bones, though. He was so thirsty he thought he might dry up and blow away like

the ashes of a cold campfire. He trembled with raw, powerful need.

Jesu- Ow!

He had to learn not to do that.

Clenching his fists, he fought the urge to go to Deadre. To take what she offered, no matter what the cost to her. Or to his self-

respect.

For the first time, Daniel began to understand what synthetic blood could mean to these people. To him. He began to see why Garth had been so desperate to have the formula. But if he'd stolen the formula to feed his people, why didn't they have it already? Garth had walked out with the discs more than two months ago.

Garth. Thinking about Garth was good. Anger staved off the hunger. Raised a different kind of blood l.u.s.t.

He stoked the rage inside him, used it to do what he needed to do. It was time. Time to leave Deadre and time to do what he had

to do. He climbed the short staircase to the door.

She called out to him in a high voice, "What are you doing?"

"I have to go."

"You can't."

He bowed his head, telling himself to go on. He couldn't turn back now.

"I made a vow, D. To-" He flicked a gaze skyward. "Him who shall remain nameless, and to myself. I can't give it up now."

"You're not ready."

"I'll never be ready, if I stay here."

He didn't need Deadre anymore. She'd fulfilled her purpose. He probably should kill her-she was a vampire, after all-but he