Vampire Most Wanted
Page 15

“So the pain went away long enough for him to get the blood?” Jackie asked, sounding almost fascinated.
“Oh, he was still in pain, but it was a different kind of pain to this,” she said, and spotting her expression, Divine sighed. “The pain when you’re low on blood feels unbearable, right?”
Jackie nodded.
“Well, it isn’t. We bear it, but it certainly inspires us to make sure we feed and that’s the point. It’s like a toothache or a really loud blaring alarm screaming nonstop. It’s painful, constant, urging you to do something. In this case, feed. And it’s distracting enough that you will feed no matter the pain you know it will cause once you do. Or maybe the pain is there to ensure you can’t think clearly enough to recall the pain that will follow once you feed,” she muttered. She knew all this only from experience after having lived so long. Divine did not have any scientific knowledge to back it up.
Shrugging, she said, “While the pain caused by the need to feed feels unbearable, the pain of healing actually is unbearable. Marcus won’t be able to withstand it for long before he—” She paused abruptly as Marcus’s moan turned into another long, loud shriek. His whole body vibrated briefly in her arms, his teeth snapping like a cornered dog in pain, and then he went abruptly limp as if someone had flipped a switch turning him off.
Divine stared down at his pale, scarred face and released a little sigh. Marcus had passed out, but who knew how long that would last. The pain would probably wake him in a bit and have him thrashing and screaming again. They had to move quickly to get him tied down so he wouldn’t hurt himself. He’d simply prolong the healing if that happened. That concern uppermost in her mind, Divine shifted her hold on Marcus, and then stood up with him cradled in her arms.
Jackie stepped back, expression incredulous, and for a minute Divine thought the girl was such a newbie as an immortal that she didn’t yet know her own strength now. She realized that wasn’t the case though when Jackie said, “Your chest.”
Divine glanced down and took brief note of the bloody rivulets in her chest where she’d trapped Marcus’s hands. He’d clawed at her, digging into her chest to try to make her release him. She’d been aware of it at the time, but had ignored it. Sighing, she shrugged, “He did worse in the back of the SUV. I’ll heal.”
Swinging away toward the door, she asked, “Can you show me to the room you prepared for him?”
“Of course.” Jackie hurried around her to get the door, held it for her, and then rushed past her again to lead her to and up the stairs. They were halfway up when Vincent hurried back through the front door, chains in hand.
“You should have told me he’d stashed them under the front seat. I looked everywhere before I found them there,” Vincent reprimanded as he hurried toward the stairs.
“Sorry,” Divine murmured, not bothering to explain that she had hid them there, not Marcus. She hadn’t wanted him to wake up and see them and be reminded of the unpleasantness he’d suffered.
“Here, let me take him for you,” Vincent offered, rushing up the stairs behind them.
“I’m—” Divine had meant to say she was good, but didn’t get the chance to finish. Vincent had already handed the chains to Jackie and then took Marcus from her. He then hurried up the stairs, Jackie hard on his heels. Divine was left to follow.
Eleven
“You’re awake.”
Marcus had barely stirred when Vincent’s overly cheerful voice finished rousing him from sleep. Opening his eyes, he stared briefly at the man standing beside the bed he lay in before glancing around the room. It was disturbingly cheerful, a bright yellow room lined with a wallpaper border of sunflowers. He closed his eyes with a sigh. “Yeah.”
“How do you feel?” Vincent asked.
Marcus popped his eyes open again as his brain began to function. He was in a room in Vincent and Jackie’s home, healing after a fire that had torched Divine’s RV, he recalled.
“Where’s Divine?” he asked abruptly, trying to sit up, only to have Vincent force him back down with one hand on his chest.
“Slow down, buddy. She’s fine. Resting in her own room. Now, tell me how you feel,” Vincent insisted, withdrawing his restraining hand and straightening when Marcus stopped struggling to sit up.
Marcus almost barked out Fine as an automatic reply, but then thought better of it and took inventory. Nothing hurt, which was a relief. He had a serious case of dry mouth though, and while he wasn’t suffering the pain of blood hunger, he was hungry . . . which was truly weird. He hadn’t experienced that in quite a while.
“Hungry,” he said finally.
Vincent nodded as if that were to be expected. “We could tell you were on the verge of waking up so Jackie went down to fetch you a drink and something to eat. She should be back in a minute.”
“How could you tell I was on the verge of waking up?” Marcus asked curiously.
“You stopped moaning and thrashing hours ago and lay still as death since then,” Vincent said dryly. “But about ten minutes ago you started shifting restlessly and talking in your sleep.”
Marcus stiffened at this news. “Talking? What was I saying?”
“Something about ball busters,” Vincent said with amusement. “It wasn’t very intelligible for the most part.”
Marcus grimaced and relaxed in the bed.
“I gather Divine did some damage to the old baby makers, huh?”
Marcus stiffened again, eyes sharp on the younger man. “Did Divine tell you that?”
Vincent shook his head solemnly. “I read the memory from your thoughts.”
Marcus stared at him silently for a moment, his mind in an uproar. Vincent shouldn’t be able to read him. The man was younger than he. The fact that Vincent could read him . . . well, that was another symptom of finding a life mate. Hunger, sex drive, and the inability to block your thoughts were all signs of a life mate’s presence. Divine was his life mate.
“Damn,” Marcus muttered finally, letting his head fall back and eyes close. “I was afraid of that.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Marcus scowled at the sympathetic words and opened his eyes again. “So? Can you read her too?”
“Yes,” Vincent admitted, but Marcus didn’t miss the reluctance in his voice.
“Yes, you can read her, and . . . what?” he asked quietly. When Vincent hesitated, he guessed, “She’s Basha?”
“We’re not sure one way or the other,” Vincent admitted.
“What?” Marcus asked with disbelief, sitting up again.
Vincent pushed him back down almost automatically, his attention on his thoughts and trying to express them. “She has a very . . .” He paused, hesitated, and then tried again, “Her mind is rather . . .”
“Rather what?” Marcus snapped impatiently, sitting up again, only to have Vincent absently push him back flat in bed again as if it were little effort at all. He might be healed, but he obviously hadn’t regained full strength yet if Vincent could handle him so easily, he thought with disgust, and then glanced sharply at Vincent as the man started to speak again.
“I’ve never been able to read someone as old as Divine appears to be,” he said finally. “Her mind is . . .” Vincent grimaced and then said, “Well, frankly, it’s a weird combination of almost anal organization and complete disorganization at the same time.”
“How could she be both organized and disorganized?” Marcus demanded impatiently, sitting up again.
“It’s weird, I’ll admit,” Vincent said, pushing him back in the bed once more, and then sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him and leaning his weight on his elbow on Marcus’s stomach as if it were a pillow. The move ensured Marcus wouldn’t rear up again, which was apparently the man’s intent. But he looked damned pleased with himself as he did it. “But I think it might be a result of the length of her life.”
“The length?” Marcus asked with a frown. “How old is she?”
Vincent shook his head. “Not sure, but she’s old. There are memories in her head dating way back. She’s spent her life always moving from one place to another, always amongst nomadic, mortal tribes. She’s traveled with the Wu Hu, Huns, Magyars, Romani, carnies.” He gave a crooked shrug, his elbow digging into Marcus’s stomach. “There are far too many to list them all.”
“Try,” Marcus said dryly.
“What’s more interesting,” Vincent went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “is that in every section or chapter of her life, she’s had a different name that was her name. Now, and since she began traveling with carnies, it’s been Madame Divine and the moment she became Divine, she was no longer whoever she was in the previous chapter of her life. With the Romani it was Nuri, which means Gypsy, which is what the Romani are and how she’s lived her whole life as far as I can tell.”
“Nuri,” Marcus murmured.
Vincent nodded. “As far as she was concerned that was her name while she traveled with the Romani and her previous name and life no longer existed.” He pursed his lips and then commented, “It’s almost dissociative.”
Marcus scowled at the comment. “When did you get your psychology degree, Dr. Freud?”
“No degree yet,” Vincent admitted cheerfully. “But I’ve been taking some night courses the last year or two and have a little psychology under my belt.”
“There’s nothing more dangerous in this world than ‘a little’ knowledge,” Marcus growled.
Vincent heaved a dramatic sigh, showing his acting roots, and then perched his chin on the heel of his palm and arched one eyebrow. “Since you’re obviously cranky, I shall skip to just the facts. She’s in the next bedroom sleeping after her own bout with healing.”
“What?” Marcus sat up abruptly, despite Vincent’s weight on him. “Healing from what?”
“You shouldn’t be up yet,” Vincent said with a scowl as Marcus tossed his sheets and blankets aside and sat up on the side of the bed.
“Screw you,” Marcus snapped, looking around for his clothes. “What is she healing from?”
“The wounds you gave her,” Vincent said grimly as Marcus stood up.
That brought him up short and Marcus turned to stare at him wide-eyed as Vincent walked around the bed toward him. “Wounds I gave her?”
Nodding, the younger man gave him a push that sent him toppling to sit on the side of the bed again. Bending then, Vincent grabbed his now unresisting legs and lifted them onto the bed, turning him on it as he did. He then covered him up and announced. “You gouged out some nice striations on her chest after drinking the blood when you got here. I gather from what I read of her mind, those weren’t the first injuries you gave her. While you were out of your head healing in the SUV, you did some serious damage. She was suffering and in serious need of blood herself, though we didn’t realize that at first.”
Finished tucking him in, Vincent sat on the side of the bed again, eyed him solemnly, and said, “The woman is very good at hiding her pain. And judging by some of the memories I caught glimpses of, it comes from practice.”
“What does that mean?” Marcus asked with concern. “What did you see?”
The door opened then and they both glanced toward it to see Jackie walking in with a tray in hand. Marcus raised his head, his nose sniffing the air.
“I thought you’d be awake by now, I—” She paused abruptly, her gaze shooting to her husband as an alarm suddenly sounded in the house.
“What’s that?” Marcus asked, sitting up abruptly.
“The security alarm. Someone’s breached the gate,” Jackie said grimly, turning toward the dresser with her burden.
Marcus didn’t stay to watch her set it down, but leaped off the bed, and strode out of the room with Vincent hard on his heels.
“Where is she?” he growled, once in the hall.
“This one,” Vincent said, leading him to the next door on the right. The man wasn’t stupid enough to get between him and the woman in the room. He merely turned the knob and pushed the door open. Vincent then stepped back to allow Marcus to enter. It was a good thing too, since Marcus would have charged right over him in his bid to see that Divine was okay.
“Stay with her,” Vincent said after glancing to the unconscious woman in the bed. “Jackie and I will check out the breach. We’ll come back either when we catch someone or when it’s all clear.”
Marcus merely grunted, his attention on the restless woman in the bed. She wasn’t screaming or thrashing, but she wasn’t still either. Soft moans and murmurs of pain were leaving her lips and she was shifting this way and that in the bed, obviously still healing.
Vincent had said Marcus had hurt her, and the knowledge made him peer carefully over her face. When he didn’t see anything there, he reached for the top of the blanket covering her and tugged it down, revealing the peasant blouse she still wore. Like the one from that morning, this one was stained with dry blood, but more disturbing to him were the scars on her chest. They were fading even as he watched, but were obviously from deep scoring. It was as if he’d tried to dig deep trenches in her chest. Marcus could only imagine how much pain he’d caused her. It made him wonder about the other injuries Vincent had mentioned his having caused her. What had he done to the poor woman while out of his head after the fire?
The question made him tug the blanket lower. He’d intended to get a look at her arms that rested at her sides under the blanket, but instead his attention was caught by an even larger bloodstain below her left breast. It was dry now but had blossomed around a hole through the material there. She’d obviously been stabbed with something.