The much anticipated next Night 10 page Something poured down my throat and
consciousness returned. Through a red
haze, I saw Vlad’s face. Felt his strong
arms around me while his wrist pressed to
my mouth.
“Leila, can you hear me?” he asked,
moving his wrist to allow me to answer.
I blinked, but the red didn’t leave my
vision. Then I handed him the object that
was still clutched in my hand, dimly
noting that it was an ancient-looking
crown.
“You’re wrong,” I whispered. “I do
love the real you.”
If Vlad responded, I didn’t hear it. A
surge of dizziness followed by a blinding
pain tore across my mind, and then I felt
nothing at all.
Chapter 23
Ever been awake enough to hear snippets
of what was going on around you, but too
groggy to react to any of it? For what
seemed like the next several hours, I
remained in that strange, semiconscious
state, hearing fragments of Gretchen’s
voice, my father’s, Vlad’s, and even
Marty’s. At one point, they got into a
shouting match, but right when things
became intelligible, I fell into oblivion
again.
When I climbed back out, I was acutely
aware of two things: the scent of blood
and the sound of drums. Between the smell
and the annoying buh-boom, buh-booms,
there was no way I could sleep, which
sucked because I was really tired. With
great reluctance, I opened my eyes, seeing
a bright, fuzzy whiteness with silver
branches above me.
“Stop . . . drumming,” I rasped.
Something dark filled my vision. It took
several blinks before I realized it was
Vlad’s face. His stubble was thicker and
his hair clumpy and stiff in places. I’d
seen that same unkempt look on people
after a night drinking, but it surprised me
to see Vlad looking like he’d been on the
losing end of a bout with tequila. And
—sniff—HE was the one who smelled
like blood? What had happened?
“Dad, Leila’s awake!”
Gretchen’s excited yell sliced through
the air. The drums got louder, too, their
beats overlapping as if more people had
joined the band. I groaned, closing my
eyes. Someone, please, make them stop!
“Both of you, leave,” Vlad stated. “This
is too much for her.”
“She’s my daughter, you leave,” my
father hollered.
That made me open my eyes. Hugh
Dalton rarely raised his voice, and didn’t
anyone care that the damn band sounded
like it had traded regular drums for steel
ones?
“Go. Now,” Vlad bit out, his eyes
flashing green.
I would’ve argued about him using
mind control on my family, except three
more things became apparent. What I’d
first thought were silver branches were
tall IV poles, I was wearing new rubber
gloves, and once my dad and Gretchen
wordlessly left the room, the only
drumming I heard came from inside my
chest.
“What’s going on?” I asked, wincing at
how my voice boomed. “And why do you
look like you rolled in the floor of a
slaughterhouse?” I added, shocked that my
attempt at whispering also came out so
loud.
Vlad stared at me, his expression
changing from the intractable one he’d
leveled at my family to something I could
only describe as affectionate rage.
“I’m covered in blood because you
hemorrhaged to death in my arms and I
haven’t changed my clothes yet.”
My mouth fell open. “I died?” I yelled.
The briefest smile flitted across his
face. “You’re not yelling. You’ve had so
much of my blood that your senses are
hyper-elevated. That’s why you thought
your heartbeat was a drum, and why your
family’s heartbeats sounded like more
drums.”
I glanced at the IV poles again. A bag
with clear liquid hung from one of them,
but the other had thick red liquid.
“You’re still giving me your blood?” I
asked/yelled.
“You only now came out of a coma”
was his even reply.
I’d died and been in a coma? Could this
day get any worse?
“How long?” I asked, lowering my
voice as much as possible.
He sat back in his chair, tapping the
armrest while his gaze went from
burnished copper to bright emerald.
“In a coma? Three days. Dead? Six
minutes, forty seconds.”
I didn’t need super senses to hear the
leashed fury in his voice, or to guess the
reason behind it.
“Vlad—”
“Don’t.”
The single word reverberated in what I
now realized looked like a very messy
hospital room. A defibrillator with char
marks was in the corner, hypodermic
needles were strewn on the counter, and a
darkened EKG machine was on its side by
the door.
“The next time you’re tempted to
overuse your powers, remember this,” he
went on in that same steely tone. “I will
bring you back by any means necessary, so
if you value your humanity, don’t do that
again.”
Then he rose, giving me a glimpse of
the rest of his blood-smeared, wrinkled,
and decidedly smelly outfit before leaning
down and caressing my cheek.
“As for why you did it,” he said, voice
lower and throatier, “we’ll discuss that
once you’ve recovered. Another day of
blood and bed rest should suffice. Now, I
have business to attend to and you have
another visitor.”
Marty appeared in the doorway, his
expression both relieved and sheepish.
“Hey, kid.”
Vlad dropped his hand, leaving without
another word. I wanted him to stay, but he
probably wanted to shower and change
clothes, not that I could blame him.
Besides, I had someone to hug . . . and
demand an explanation from.
“Come here, Marty,” I said, and hoped
it was my supersonic hearing that made it
sound like I hollered it at him.
A lump rose in my throat as he
approached. I’d never thought to see his
stocky, four-foot frame or bushy black hair
again, and when he used Vlad’s chair so
he could lean over and hug me, I couldn’t
stop a flow of tears.
“Missed you, kid,” he murmured,
swiping at my wet cheek. “And could you
quit with the near-death experiences?”
“You should talk,” I retorted, sniffing.
“What happened? I saw the trailer. No one
could have survived that.”
He gave my shoulder a last pat before
disentangling himself from my IV tubes
and sitting back.
“You’re right, but I wasn’t in it when
the gas line blew. After our last act, I was
walking back to the trailer with Dawn.
Then I saw this woman across the parking
lot, all by herself, just wolfing down a tub
of ice cream—”
I started to laugh even amidst a pang of
sorrow over Dawn. Marty’s love of
sugar-flavored blood was well-known to
me.“
So your sweet tooth—or fang—saved
your life.” My laughter faded and I
couldn’t keep the hurt from my voice when
I asked, “Why didn’t you look for me after
the blast? I kept yelling for you but you
didn’t come. Only Maximus did.”
He let out a sigh. “I knew you were in
The Hammer’s trailer because I saw you
enter it. Then the explosion . . .”
His features tightened. “Everything
within a fifty-yard radius was obliterated.
Even at twice that distance, the woman I
drank from was hurt. I knew it would’ve
killed you but I tried to get to you anyway.
The heat melted my skin before I could
reach The Hammer’s trailer, so I had to
turn back. Then all the screams . . . people
were trapped in their RVs or running
while on fire. I couldn’t save you, but I
tried to save as many of them as I could.
After ambulances took away the worst of
the injured, I left. I couldn’t stand to stay
and watch them dig out your body.”
His voice cracked at the last word. I
took his hand, glad my new gloves
allowed me to do that without shocking
him. “And then you called Vlad,” I
finished, piecing it together.
Marty let out a grunt. “He didn’t take
the news well. Made me find out where
they were transporting the bodies and then
jumped on his jet. I told him there
wouldn’t be enough left of you to raise,
but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Raise?” I repeated before
comprehension dawned. Ghouls were
made by having a person drink vampire
blood, then killing that person and
switching their heart with a ghoul’s heart.
Since I was on a regular diet of vampire
blood and Vlad knew I was fireproof at
the time, he’d know such a transformation
was possible, if the explosion hadn’t
ripped me limb from limb—
That’s what he was doing at the morgue
when I dream-linked to him! He hadn’t
wanted to see my body to grieve or gloat,
as I’d thought. He’d gone there to bring me
back.
“Raise you into a ghoul,” Marty said,
not knowing I’d figured it out. He
shrugged. “You’d look the same, but every
so often, you’d need to eat the other, other
white meat.”
I was still reeling from this discovery.
Had Vlad known as soon as he saw those
bones that I was still alive? Or had he not
realized it until he “heard” me spying on
him? And the most important question:
Why, if he cared enough to fly overseas
and rush to a morgue to raise me from the
dead, had he acted so indifferent when I
left him?
“—look pale, Leila. I’m gonna go, let
you get some rest.”
That I heard, but whatever he said
before had been lost.
“I slept for three days, you wouldn’t
think I’d be tired.”
I was, though. Still, I had a few things
to do first. “Can you find my dad and
Gretchen? Vlad ordered them out, but I
can handle their heartbeats now.”
And their voices. I’d just remember that
everything sounded like a shout at the
moment.
“Sure.” Then Marty cleared his throat.
“You should know something. When you
hemorrhaged so much your heart stopped,
Vlad stuck IV lines in your arteries and
flooded you with his blood. Then he broke
the defibrillator shocking your heart back
to life. If that didn’t work, you were
waking up undead, and there wasn’t a
thing your father could’ve done to stop
him.”
I closed my eyes. Was that the shouting
match I’d heard in my semiconscious
state? I will bring you back by any means
necessary, Vlad had said, and apparently
he meant it.
Which meant he cared far more than
he’d admitted.
Was there hope for us after all?
Chapter 24
Dr. Natalia Romanov was Vlad’s inhouse
physician, and unlike the other
members of his staff, she couldn’t have
been nicer. When I jokingly asked if I was
her first patient this year, thinking a doctor
couldn’t be called upon much in a mostly
vampire house, Natalia replied that she
monitored all of Vlad’s humans to ensure
they were healthy enough to feed from and
assisted in tortures since she was an
expert in neuromuscular manipulation.
Well, I’d asked.
After she left, my dad and Gretchen
came back to see me. I apologized for
Vlad putting the mind whammy on them,
which mollified my father not at all.
Gretchen, oddly enough, seemed more
fascinated than angry.
“I didn’t want to leave, but my legs took
me right out of the room anyway. He
could’ve made me do anything, couldn’t
he?”
“Yes,” I said, hating the way my
father’s features tightened up as though
he’d swallowed ground glass. Then he
muttered something under his breath that,
without my new super senses, I never
would’ve heard.
“No, he doesn’t use mind control on
me. For one, all the vampire blood I drink
makes me immune to it. For another, if he
did, we wouldn’t have broken up because
he would’ve made me believe I was
delighted with the way things were
between us.”
My father stared at me, suspicion
replacing the disbelief in his expression.
“That you heard me proves how
dangerous this man is to you. He’s
changing you into something inhuman.
Leaving him was the smartest decision
you ever made.”
Gretchen shrugged. “After seeing how
he acted when she almost died, I’m
starting to get why she’s with him.” Then
her voice hardened. “And really, Leila.
That’s twice now.”
I closed my eyes, guilt assailing me.
Yes, this was the second time Gretchen
had seen me teetering on the edge of death,
but unlike my suicide attempt at sixteen,
this had been an accident. Not that it made
it less emotionally scarring. In many ways,
that power line accident had put Gretchen
through as much hell as it had me, only she
didn’t get the occasional perks.
“I’m sorry,” I said, opening my eyes.
Another shrug as she acted like it didn’t
matter. “Have your boyfriend add therapy
bills to my expense tab.”
“You’ll take nothing else from him, and
he’s not her boyfriend anymore.”
My dad used his lieutenant colonel
voice. It usually garnered instant
obedience from Gretchen, but this time, it
rolled right off her.
“I’m taking it, and if he’s not her
boyfriend, someone should tell him that.
You saw how he freaked when she almost
died. Then he wouldn’t budge from her
side until she woke up.”
“Vlad stayed here the whole three
days?” I was shocked.
She nodded. “Like one of his stone
gargoyles.”
My father gave Gretchen a look that, if
she’d been anyone else, I’d swear was a
prelude to him throwing a punch.
“That’s enough,” he ground out.
“No, it’s not,” I said sharply. “You
have no right to shush her because you
don’t like the truth. Whatever problems
Vlad and I have had, at worst he’s been a
loyal friend who’s saved my life, yours,
and Gretchen’s more than once, so as
Mom used to say, if you can’t say anything
nice . . .”
Then shut the hell up, my flinty
expression finished.
My father rose, his lips compressed
into a thin, tight line as he limped to the
door.
“I’m glad you’re better, but I don’t want
your sister ensnared in this walking dead
underworld, and no matter how you dress
it up, that’s what it is.”
I didn’t reply because anger would’ve
made me say something I’d regret. I hadn’t
asked for the abilities that made me a
kidnap magnet for the undead and drew
my family into danger because they made
great bait for the bad guys. My dad knew
that, yet he was still blaming me anyway.
Gretchen waited until he’d left before
she spoke, too.
“Wow. That was bitchy of him.”
For once, my little sister and I were in
complete agreement.
Chapter 25
With some help from Gretchen, I took a
shower, glad to wash away the results of
three days of being comatose and briefly
dying. Then I had a bowl of soup and
napped, awakening to another checkup
from Dr. Romanov and more visitors as
Sandra, Joe, and the other humans I’d
befriended stopped by. In the evening,
Marty and Gretchen came by again. Even
my father dropped off books so I had
something to do aside from watch my IVs
drip, but the person I most wanted to see
never showed up.
The next morning, Dr. Romanov
pronounced me well enough to leave the
infirmary. I was thrilled. Being stuck in a
small, windowless room while on salineand-
vampire-blood IVs might’ve healed
my body to top condition, but it was hell
on my overly stimulated mind. Why hadn’t
Vlad come back? He’d spent three days at
my side when I was in a coma, but now
that I was better, I didn’t even warrant a
drive-by wave?
Maybe he was only worried that he
would lose his psychic weapon, my inner
voice taunted. Now that you’re better, he
has no reason to be near you until he
needs something.
Shut up, I snapped in reply.
Vlad hadn’t asked me to pull an
impression from a single object since my
return. True, I’d spent most of that time
unconscious, but that didn’t mean he was
concerned only because of my abilities.
My nasty little inner voice could whisper
all the poison it wanted. It didn’t take
away from the fact that something still
burned between Vlad and me. As for why
he’d avoided me the past twenty-four
hours, I intended to find out.
When I left the infirmary, I went to my
bedroom, taking a shower after releasing
my pent-up electricity in the lightning rod
Vlad had set up outside my window. Then
I went to the antique wardrobe, opened the
doors—and stared.
Empty. Not even a single hanger
remained. I went to the dressers next,
opening each one with increasing
disbelief.
Every last stitch of clothing was gone.
If not for the towels and robe in the
bathroom, I’d be naked.
I tightened that robe around me and
pulled the long tassel by the door. After a
couple minutes, the albino-looking
vampire named Oscar appeared.
“How may I help you?” he asked with a
bow.
“Do you know what happened to the
clothes in this room?”
“Yes.”
I waited, but when he said nothing else,
I gritted my teeth and tried again.
“And they’re not here anymore
because?”
A slow blink. “Because you’re not
staying here any longer.”
What?
“I’m not?” I repeated in case I’d briefly
coma-d out and misheard him.
“That’s correct,” he said with another
bow.
Vlad was kicking me out? Sure, he was
angry I’d overused my powers, but I
couldn’t believe he’d do something so
drastic.
Told you he didn’t really care! my
inner voice crowed.
Eat me! I roared back at it.
“Where is Vlad now?” I asked, hoping
it was my overly sensitive hearing that
made the question sound like a screech.
“In his room.”
I brushed by Oscar with a muttered
“Thanks” before marching to the staircase.
Then I went up, holding the bottom of my
robe together so I didn’t flash anyone.
No one passed me on the staircase. The
long slate hallway on the fourth floor was
also empty. I took the fork on the left,
mentally gearing up for the fight ahead. I
was not letting Vlad do this. We had too
much unfinished business between us.
I went into his room without knocking.
He never locked his door, probably
because anyone who entered without
permission was tempting death. I’d
already died once this week, so that
wasn’t about to stop me.
“We need to talk,” I said.
Thankfully, the lights were on so he
must be awake. Though I was determined
to have this out, Vlad was not Mr.
Sunshine when he first woke up. I shut the
door, my gaze skipping around. His room
was broken into four sections: the minilibrary,
as I called the part with couches
and wall-to-wall bookshelves; the
bedchamber; the bathroom; and his walkin
closet.
Vlad came out of that closet in pants
and a jacket the color of storm clouds. His
raw silk shirt was a few shades lighter, as
was the thicker, long silk scarf that hung
with casual elegance around his neck. I
must’ve caught him before he was done
dressing because his feet were bare,
which made his approach even more
soundless than usual.
I held up a hand. “Before you say
anything, hear me out.”
Not waiting to see if he agreed, I
plowed ahead.
“I know you, the real you, and while I
don’t like everything because you’ve got a
master’s degree in medieval torture, not to
mention a reluctance to admit to feelings
beyond affection or lust, which any shrink
would tell you were commitment
issues”—deep breath for the next part—“I
still love you, Vlad. You, the dragon, not
the imaginary knight, and I’m not letting
you kick me out because I—I think you
love me, too.”
I was out of breath from too many
words with too little oxygen in between
them. Throughout my emphatic if
ineloquent speech, Vlad kept coming
toward me. The scent of cinnamon, spice,
and smoke filled my nose. This must be
his natural scent, something I hadn’t
noticed before my nose received its
upgrade.
I stared at him, wishing I had his mindreading
abilities because his expression
gave nothing away. All I gleaned from
searching his face was that his stubble
was back to its eight o’clock shadow
length and his molten copper eyes were
sprinkled with emerald.
“You’re right,” he said at last, his tone
thick with things I couldn’t name.
“About what? The excessive torturing,
commitment issues, or the other thing?”
His smile was tantalizing and
frightening, like being whipped and
finding out you enjoyed the pain. I
couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through
me as I looked at the man who still had
such a dangerous hold over my heart.
“All of it.”
He seized me as he spoke, one hand
tangling in my hair while the other splayed
across my back. Their heat was nothing
compared to his lips when he pressed
them to my throat.
“Do you know what happened the last
time I loved someone?”
Growled against my skin with such
tempered violence that my shiver turned
into a shudder. I nodded.
“No you don’t.” Another lethal growl.
“You only know how she died. Let me tell
you how she lived—in fear. My actions
horrified her, as they horrify you. My
enemies exploited her, as they exploit you,
so it was more than an advancing army
that made her throw herself from our roof.
It was me.”
He’d made sure to say this while his
fangs were at my throat, as if I needed a
literal example of how precarious life
would be with him. In response, my arms
came up, crisscrossing around his neck.
One at a time, I pulled my gloves off. Then
I plunged my hands into his hair, letting
the electricity surge through him as I held
him closer to my neck.
“I am not her.”
I was glad the words vibrated from my
vehemence. I wanted him to be able to
feel them as well as hear them.
“You’re the scariest man I’ve ever met,
but I am not afraid of you. As for your
enemies, let them come. I’ve survived
them before and I will again.”
His laughter teased my neck—hot,
harsh, and silkier than the rich material
covering him. Then he lifted his head, and
his stare held mine captive as if he’d
mesmerized me.
“You should be afraid. Very afraid.
Before, I told you if you wanted to end
things between us, I would let you go, but,
Leila”—his voice deepened—“I lied.”
Chapter 26
The words sounded like a threat, yet I
was unable to stop a grin from tugging at
my mouth.
“Does that mean you’re no longer trying
to kick me out?”
He turned, glancing at the entrance to
his closet. “Look.”
With a questioning glance, I went over
to the closet. Yes, it was still the size of
the RV I’d lived in with Marty, and yes, I
still thought the automated system that
moved his outfits along with the flick of a
switch was cool. So what was—
My indrawn breath coincided with him
drawing me against him, his arms
encircling me from behind.
“Does that answer your question?”
It did, and I’d completely
misunderstood Oscar’s statement, “You’re
not staying here any longer.” I thought he
meant Vlad’s house. What he meant was
that room. All the clothes that had been in
my armoire and dressers were here, down
to the bras that took up the section once
occupied by Vlad’s ties.
Even when I’d been his live-in
girlfriend, none of my stuff had been kept
here. It had been in the adjoining bedroom
where I sometimes slept, too. Vlad
couldn’t have been clearer about wanting
me back, but in his usual way, he’d
assumed because he wanted something, it
was his.
If we were going to work things out,
that had to stop.
I turned around, trying to rein in my
roiling emotions. “You can’t move my
stuff into your room without talking to me
first. What if I don’t want to take things
that fast?”
A snort escaped him. “You nearly died
to prove I am the man you love, yet this is
excessive to you?”
I lifted my chin. “It only takes one
person to love, but it takes two to make a
relationship work. If we’re going to try
again, it needs to be more than your way
or the highway, Vlad.”
His hands slid down my arms while he
looked at me in a way that made me think
of rapturous cries and blood dripping off
steel. Possessiveness was so trivial by
comparison.
“I don’t want to try anything. I want you
to marry me.”
I thought I had been surprised before.
Now I truly knew what the word meant.
For several moments, I was convinced I
hadn’t heard him correctly.
Vlad’s smile held a hint of savageness.
“Love is a terrible weakness. It gives your
enemies a perfect target, clouds your
judgment, makes you reckless . . . and
that’s on a good day.”
His hands continued their caressing
path to my waist, their heat barely
diminished by the thin material of my
robe.
“On a bad day,” he went on, his voice
turning harsh, “it can destroy you. I never
wanted to subject myself to that again, so
yes, I kept you at arm’s length. I even let
you leave to prove to myself that you
meant no more to me than my previous
lovers. And then Martin called, telling me
you’d been killed.”
His grip tightened painfully before he
released me, his hands clenching into fists
at his sides.
“I didn’t care about anything then. Not
crushing my enemies, protecting my
people, or how maddening you were by
expecting me to behave like a modern
man, as if I could shrug off half a
millennium of living, based on your
whim.”
That last comment was unfair, but I’d
address it later.
“Then I went to the morgue and saw that
those bones weren’t yours, heard your
voice again in my head”—his eyes closed
—“and once more, nothing else mattered.”
His mouth twisted as he opened his
eyes. “Then, of course, I discovered you’d
run off with Maximus because you thought
I was the one who tried to kill you. It
enraged me, but I was determined to find
you. Once I did, you maddened me no less
than before, yet over the past few days, I
realized it was too late.”
Vlad cupped my face as he stared down
at me with an intensity that made my heart
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