The Calling - Desire Calls Part 23

"I'm here, amor," he said, and she murmured something else, too weak for him to hear even with the trace of vamp power he had released. He bent closer and this time the words were clear."Take me home."

"Take you home?" he repeated, thinking that if he took her away from all the equipment, she would...

"I want to die at home," she said, louder and with unwavering conviction.

He met her gaze and touched her cheek, hoping to dissuade her, but she reached up, removed the oxygen mask, and once again made her plea. "I want to die at home. In my own bed. In your arms."

Dios, why had she added the last, the one request he couldn't refuse?

With a nod, he said, "I'll go tell Melissa."

Chapter 23.

D iego must have sensed her urgency and communicated it to the others, because they wasted no time in disconnecting her from the various monitors and IVs.

She struggled to hold on to consciousness, but it faded in and out like a television with a bad antenna, leaving her hearing only s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversations. The one thing that stayed steady was Diego. He remained at her side, his hand holding hers.

A cold hand, which would warm on occasion. A vampire hand, her brain reminded her, not that she cared. She had seen the cruelty of humans, and Diego had been nothing but kind to her, so who were truly the monsters?

A coc.o.o.n of warmth surrounded her, and she heard a crinkling sound. A s.p.a.ce blanket. She remembered it from the past, when they'd wrapped her in one to conserve her body heat. Then came the rock-solid strength of Diego's arms, lifting her and bringing her tight to his chest.

She opened her eyes and smiled, comforted by the security of his embrace. He forced a smile and bent until his lips brushed against hers. He whispered, "Hold on tight."

They were moving. Rapidly. A slight breeze washed over her and the world sped by, a blur of sights and sounds, with only one constant-Diego. His arms held her safely as he rushed her home, and she let herself go.

The hard strength of his arms receded, replaced by the familiar softness of her bed.

"No," she protested, and gripped his wrist.

"I'm not going anywhere, querida," Diego said. Gently he eased her beneath the welcoming warmth of the covers, but it wasn't enough. With the absence of his embrace, her body began to tremble.

"Cold," she said.

He tucked the s.p.a.ce blanket more tightly around her.

She wanted more. "Hold me."

The tremors racked her body and her skin took on an unnatural shade of white, nearly bloodless. Diego thought about slipping in beside her and holding her close, but his undead body lacked any heat in this form. As a vampire, however...

"Don't be afraid of me." He slowly morphed, allowing his demon form to emerge, and with it, the heat of the transformation.

She watched, fascinated instead of fearful, he realized. Cautious, he stopped halfway, leaving himself in a state half human, half vamp. He undid the b.u.t.tons on his shirt, kicked off his shoes and eased under the covers. Shifting to her side, he tenderly slid his arm beneath her head, pillowing it, and brought his upper body close, hoping the warmth would help.

Gently he reached for the covers to pull them over both of them, but as he did so he brushed her midsection. She moaned and her body jerked with pain.

"I'm sorry," he said, but finished drawing up the thick bedspread and creating a haven of warmth for her.

Ramona snuggled near, the heat of his body providing solace. Besides the tenderness that brought agony with every touch, there was cold. Bone-deep cold that he helped to a.s.suage with his presence.

But his proximity was about more than just his body heat. As she examined his dear face, she noticed the differences with the vampire awakened. His ice-blue eyes were an even brighter shade of blue, with hints of neon-green. Beneath his full upper lip the b.u.mp of fang was visible, and she reached up, traced his lip and then downward, to the sharp points.

She remembered his state the other night. This one was different. More human. More like the man she had come to love. With that thought came the recollection of the painting sitting across the loft, half finished. Raising her head, she peered toward it.

Moonlight illuminated the canvas where it sat on the easel. "I didn't get to finish it," she whispered, before dropping back down, her heart racing and her breath short from just that minor exertion.

As much as she tried to catch her breath, however, she couldn't. The cold and pain in her midsection grew. With her breath rasping in and out roughly, she fought to keep control, but it was too much. She moaned and tears came to her eyes as she said, "It hurts."

Diego gently brushed away a tear and cupped her face. "I know, amor. I know," he said, recalling the agony his own body had suffered while he waited for death at the hands of the Inquisitor.

Her breath exploded from her and she arched up off the bed. He could hear her madly beating heart and the rush of blood spilling wildly throughout her body as the hemorrhaging increased. It wouldn't be long now, he knew, and he tightened his embrace.

There wasn't anything but pain filling her consciousness now.

Her hands gripped him, harder than he would have thought possible, and he heard her whispered plea. "Make it stop hurting."

He cupped her face and wiped away her tears. Her features shimmered as tears filled his own eyes. "I can't, love, but...stay with me. I want you to stay with me."

"I don't want to leave you. We haven't had enough time together."

"Are you sure, love?" he asked, maybe because he still needed to be convinced about the rightness of what he was considering.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she said, and brushed a kiss against his lips.

After, she bared her neck, but even as he bent his head toward her and fully released the vampire, he realized she might already be too far gone.

"Forgive me, amor. It will only hurt for a bit," he said, and with that, he sank his fangs deep into her neck and fed.

Her blood was powerless, offering little energy or rush, a testament to how debilitated she was physically. He barely drank from her for she was so close to death that he feared killing her himself. As he pulled away, her blood staining his lips and fangs, he realized how tenuous her grasp was on consciousness. He couldn't delay.

Raising his arm, he ripped open his wrist with his fangs and brought the b.l.o.o.d.y flesh to her mouth. She jerked her head away, but he urged her on. "Drink, querida. You need my blood to stay with me." When he brought his wrist to her lips once again, she placed her mouth there and sucked. She licked at the blood oozing from his wrist, and her feeding stoked his vampire pa.s.sion.

The animal wanted to feed from her again, but he knew to do so would bring certain death. He curbed the desire and patiently waited until her mouth stopped pulling at the wound, which healed almost instantly.

Her eyes were glazed as she looked up at him. "Sleep," he said. "You need to rest so my blood can restore you."

With a barely perceptible nod, she dropped off, and he lay down beside her, searching for any signs that the vampire's kiss had taken hold. Time pa.s.sed and the familiar fever that came with a turning failed to appear.

Her heart still beat rapidly and weakly. Her breath was close to nonexistent, and she wouldn't rouse at his urging.

She would die, he thought, even with his turning her. Grief nearly overwhelmed him, until he realized he had to try again. He couldn't lose her.

He slashed his wrist once more and brought it to her mouth, but her lips remained slack. He settled for letting the blood drip into her mouth, and eventually she swallowed.

He repeated the feedings off and on all night long, until the morning brought a knock at the door. Slipping from her side, he tossed on his shirt and answered it, finding Diana and Ryder on the threshold.

Diana looked ready to drop, her olive skin sallow, with deep, dark circles beneath her eyes. Ryder had his arm around her, as if she needed his support, and maybe she did. She was a bit unsteady as they entered.

"How is Ramona?" she asked, but Ryder seemed to immediately know.

"You turned her." The accusation was thick in his voice.

"Don't condemn me for something you wish you could do. For something you might have already started," he said, jerking his head in Diana's direction.

She shook her own head and laughed harshly. "Don't make a.s.sumptions, Diego. You don't know that."

"I feel it. I feel you. You're not human anymore." He was unprepared for the sadness that crept into her eyes and into those of her lover.

"Did she ask you to do it?" Ryder said.

"Yes, she did. I wouldn't have done so otherwise."

"How thoughtful of you." He sneered, but Diego cut him off with an angry slash of his hand.

"Enough. What happened with van Winter?" He had determined that if human justice failed, vamp vengeance would not.

"We found what appears to be the originals behind a bookcase in his apartment. I think John Henry will testify in exchange for a lesser plea, but we're still working on that," Diana said.

"And Ramona? What about her part in it?" he asked, wondering what good it would do if she lived, if she had to spend her life behind bars.

"Van Winter is claiming that she was aware of what she was doing, and signed the paintings, but the evidence says otherwise. She may have to testify-"

"If she lives," he interrupted, and looked to where Ramona lay in bed, deathly still. "I'm not sure I turned her in time." Ryder went to lay a hand on his shoulder, but Diego brushed it away. "Don't pity me. Or her. At least we were willing to take a chance at happiness."

"If you need anything, call," Diana said, and despite his earlier rebuff, she embraced Diego tightly.

He remained stiff in her arms for a second, but then relented, sensing the weakness in her body, but the determination in her heart.

"Thank you," he said, and she stepped back to Ryder's side.

They left and he returned to Ramona.

The transformation he had sown with his bite germinated later the next day.

He had struggled through a long, arduous night, cutting his wrists open time and time again to feed her. All during those long hours she had tenaciously clung to life, preserving hope within him.

When the sun began to rise, he had to scramble to move the four-poster bed away from the morning light that would shine in through the many skylights and rob him of energy and Ramona of what little life remained.

As the day brightened, his natural metabolism called to him to rest.

A shrill ring of the telephone woke him several hours later, but as it did, he became aware of the intense heat emanating from her body.

Her transformation had finally begun.

Chapter 24.

I gnoring the phone call, he ran his hand across her forehead. Her skin burned beneath his palm, but her heart still beat as fast as a hummingbird's.

Maybe too weakly for her to survive.

Cradling her cheek, he pa.s.sed his thumb across the flush of unnatural color there and called her name.

"Ramona. Wake, my love, and feed," he urged, hoping that yet another sampling of his blood would provide the needed fuel to keep her body going through the change.

In the background, the shrill ringing of the phone was followed by Ramona's voice on the answering machine. At the loud beep that followed, Diana's voice came across the line.

"Van Winter got a plea bargain deal negotiated already. Prosecutors were afraid his money could help him buy his way out of a prison term. They decided that ten years without parole in exchange for nailing John Henry for murder was a good outcome. I'm sorry," she said, and hung up.

Rage filled Diego and yet it didn't matter. He would exact his own punishment on the man if Ramona died. He might even do so if she survived, because justice had to be served.

Returning his attention to Ramona, he once again slashed open his arm, farther up now, since the skin on his wrists was too fragile for more punishment. He brought his forearm to her mouth and called her name again.

She barely opened her eyes, but it was enough to see the telltale glint of the vampire. At the smell of his blood, her eyes popped open and she latched on to his arm greedily, sucking and pulling.

With each tug his own demon responded, yearning to feed. Eager to sink into the soft flesh of her neck and the sweet, slick center of her. He fought it back, knowing there would be time enough if she survived the turning.

After a few minutes, she dropped back onto the bed, seemingly sated, until her body jerked upward and she cried out his name.

He straddled her and pinned her to the bed with his arms as she began to convulse, her body reacting to the vampire wanting dominion. Her breath rattled in her chest and she moaned, clearly in some misery. Wanting to ease that suffering, he dropped down onto her, gently trying to keep her from hurting herself.

Eventually she quieted and lay beneath him, drenched in sweat that evaporated quickly from the intense heat of her body. The earlier runaway beat of her heart became more languid, and with that came deeper and steadier breaths, until she seemed to be almost at rest.

Diego relaxed in turn, his vamp physiology reminding him that it was almost noon and not time for him to be up and about. His eyes had no sooner closed, however, when Ramona grew restless again.

Her body shook and trembled beneath him, slightly stronger than before. Taking that as a good sign, he fed her again, and now, for the first time, she drank deeply and well. When she sagged back onto the bed, her eyes were clear and glowing with the nearly reflective glare of the demon. At her incisors, he noticed the barest b.u.mp of fang.

"How do you feel?" he asked. Caressing her cheek, he lowered his thumb and ran it over her lips and that hint of fang.

"Weird. Warm. Hungry," she said, and her gaze drifted to his neck.

His own blood grew thick, pulsed heavily through his body and groin as he imagined her feeding on him. Imagined feeding on her and taking her at the same time. He shook his head to drive those thoughts away, and slowly slipped back into human form, wanting...no, needing that whatever happened next would be between man and woman.

As if understanding his cue, Ramona recaptured her human self, her eyes going back to their vibrant brown, though the trace of fang remained. With time she would learn to control it.