Blood Born Read online

  If Sorin could risk everything to save her, maybe there were other vampires who weren’t all that impressed with the queen and her plans. She could hope, anyway.

  Away from the doorway, into the hallways and entryway and parlors, rebel vampires also fought against others. Male and female—though most were muscular and fearless men—they were armed with swords, arrows, long wooden staffs filed to a point at one end, and guns of all types. They were dressed in varied styles, as if each had stepped out of a history book. They were very effective against the vamps; they knew where and how to strike. What were they?

  A former guard she recognized jumped a soldier who held a gun in each hand. Using what looked like a butcher knife, the vampire cut the soldier’s throat. The gunman bled, fell to the floor … and faded away. Solid one moment, then misty, and then gone. Okay, so they weren’t exactly human, though they appeared to be ordinary flesh and blood.

  What on earth had her spell conjured up?

  A very tall, dark-haired man with a sword he handled well cut the head off a vampire. The vamp looked disgustingly bloody and gross for a moment, then went to dust.

  The dark-haired swordsman swung about, looked directly at Nevada.

  And winked.

  Nevada was shocked back to her body. Whoever—whatever—the fighters were, they could see her. At least, that one could. The others had been busy fighting for their lives, so she couldn’t be sure if they all had the ability or if it was just … him.

  Luca felt a sharp pain slice through his heart. He wavered. “Chloe!” Her name came automatically. He dizzily looked around, trying to find her. He, Sorin, and Indikaiya had already reduced the number of rebels significantly; the battle was waning. Many had already decided retreat was their best option, and he couldn’t blame them. Even in the narrow confines of the hallways, the threesome fought together as if they were veterans accustomed to watching one another’s backs. A warrior, a turncoat, and a blood born made for an odd, but very effective, team. Sorin and Indikaiya wouldn’t miss him in the fight, not now when there were only a handful of rebels remaining. He dispatched one, sent another one running, and turned back toward Chloe.

  She wasn’t in sight. Why hadn’t she stayed with him? Why hadn’t she kept close, as he’d told her to? He ran, his heart pounding with pain and panic. The flow of battle had separated them, and now … she was dying. They were bonded; she was inside him, a part of him, in more ways than he’d known was possible, and because of that, he knew.

  He found her lying on the floor in a puddle of blood, alone, barely breathing. The amount of blood made the bottom drop out of his stomach. From the position of the wound, he knew the knife had cut into her heart. She’d been left here to die, left for him to find. She’d be dead in minutes.

  Luca dropped to his knees, released his hold on the sword. It clattered against the floor loudly, echoing hollowly.

  She was still conscious—barely breathing, her brown eyes dull with encroaching death, but still conscious. Somehow she focused on him, weakly trying to lift one hand to him. “Did we win?” she whispered.

  He lifted the hand that she couldn’t, cradled it in his, fighting back his pain and panic. “Not yet.”

  She took a shallow breath. “Haven’t you … ever seen a war movie? You’re supposed to tell me … the battle is over and the good guys have won … and without me …” She stopped, gasped. “Not yet isn’t at all inspiring.”

  “I’ll try to do better.” He gently gathered Chloe in his arms, tears burning his eyes. She stifled a weak cry as he moved her. In the distance, beyond and above him, the battle continued, but he didn’t care. Let it go on without him. All that mattered to him in this world was right here, in his arms. He hadn’t had her long enough, he thought savagely. Just a few days. But she’d made him laugh, she’d made him angry, she’d brought color and joy and life to him.

  Her chest lifted with another of those shallow breaths. “Can you … lick this … and make it better?”

  “No,” he said, his voice thick. He could barely see her through the thick film of tears. Angrily he blinked them away. He didn’t want to miss a minute, a precious second, of her life. He would have tried to make her vampire, he’d have done anything to keep her with him, but she’d told him she didn’t want to be a vampire. He didn’t know if he could do it, anyway; she was too close to dying, there wouldn’t be enough time.

  “Vampire,” she whispered, groping weakly toward him.

  “Yes.” She’d never called him an endearment, he realized, but she’d called him something far more important: his name.

  “Luca,” she said, and with a start he realized the bond between them was still there, that she was still feeling what he felt. “Luca … make me … vampire.”

  He was so shaken he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “Chloe?”

  “I love … you. Stay,” she managed. “I want … to stay.” This time her effort to draw in air was nothing more than a shudder. “With … you,” she finished.

  He froze, suddenly, terribly afraid there wasn’t time. If she died, if her heart took its last beat, it would be too late. Savagely he tore at his wrist with his fangs.

  Maybe she had a chance. Maybe. She had already taken a significant amount of his blood when they’d bonded. This wouldn’t be like starting fresh. He didn’t have time for a fresh start.

  Shaking, he placed his bloody wrist at her mouth. “Drink, Chloe, drink.”

  Her lips moved, but the blood dribbled out of her mouth, down her cheek. The dull haze over her brown eyes was growing. Fiercely he pressed his wrist down on her mouth, forced the blood against her tongue. It began dribbling out of her mouth again. He growled, rubbed her throat, forced her to swallow. “Dammit, Chloe! Drink!”

  Fuck! He didn’t know how much she’d need. Turning a human wasn’t a precise process, there wasn’t a recipe for it, or a formula. There was no set number of feedings, no specific amount of blood needed. All that was required was for the vampire blood to overpower the human blood, to become dominant, to thrive.

  She wasn’t swallowing. He made a wordless sound of grief, of fury, and ground his wrist even harder against her mouth. Over and over he rubbed her throat. “Please,” he sobbed, not caring that he was crying like a baby. “Chloe, please. Please don’t leave me. Drink, sweetheart, please drink.”

  Her hand moved.

  Slowly, as if the effort was almost beyond her, she lifted her hand, gripped his arm, and held his wrist to her mouth.

  On his knees, bent over her, he shook with sobs. Slowly her mouth began to suck at his torn wrist. She made a soft, hungry little sound, then suddenly she was clinging to his arm and sucking hard, as if she were starving.

  He sat down hard on the floor and held her on his lap, cradling her as she fed. New vampires were unpredictable, hungry, often feral. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered against her hair, gently rocking her back and forth. A war had started, but he’d have to constantly keep an eye on her, watch over her, train and teach and protect her—but he’d also have to protect others from her. She came first. If she was too wild he’d leave the war to others and take her to Scotland. Or to Ahron, if the trip to Scotland was impossible in her new state.

  But she was alive. That was all he cared about, all that mattered. She was his, and he intended to keep her. War be damned, and Marie be damned.

  Chloe finally released her death grip on his arm, licked his wrist, then leaned her head against him and sighed as she closed her eyes. “My head is spinning,” she murmured. “Am I drunk?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?” She opened her eyes, grinned up at him, and sat up as easily as if she hadn’t nearly died just a few minutes earlier. As curious as a child, she lifted her blood-drenched shirt and watched as the wound knitted shut. “Wow. I feel … giddy.” She laughed. “Oh, man, I feel so good. I can fight now, you don’t have to protect me like you did when we got here. I bet I can kick your ass.”