I snapped my mouth shut, and the mournful wailing ceased, but my heart...yeah...it didn't get the memo to cease and to desist. I never understood how a body organ whose sole purpose was to pump blood throughout the body could have profound emotional reactions, but I just got schooled on the subject. A crash course of how much a heart can ache slammed full force into my chest, showing me exactly what a broken heart feels like. I am not going to lie, it wasn't pleasant people. In fact, it physically hurt, and made me clutch at my chest like I had just binge ate six pounds of deep-fried bacon, and chased it down with a gallon of mayo.
I didn't want to see him. What I wanted to do was turn and run as fast and as far as I could go. I didn't want to see the man...vampire...who had become to mean more to me than any sales at Macy's ever could...and that was saying something. I didn't want to see him grievously injured. I didn't want to see that arrow sticking out of his chest. But most importantly, I didn't want to watch him die.
No matter how much I didn't want to see any of it, my feet had a mind of their own, and slowly dragged me towards the gurney where Fang lay. I paid no attention to the group of silent huge ass vampires still hovering and watching my every move. I didn't even notice Bubbles crying softly behind me. I didn't see anything but him...and the arrow lodged in his chest. I wasn't great at anatomy and flunked out of biology, but I had played enough games of Operation to know...the arrow had struck his heart. If Fang had been Cavity Sam, his nose would be lit up like a stop light, and annoying buzzing sound would be filling the room instead of all this desolate silence.
His pristine mountain of a chest, the thing of beauty I had freely ogled time and time again, rose up and down in slow, erratic draws of breath, and was marred by a gigantic looking projectile protruding from it. The shaft of it black as night, but the feathers a bright, crimson red, matching the small amount of blood seeping around from where it disappeared into his body. I stared at it. I thought of how out of place it looked. How it invaded his gorgeous chest. How it didn't belong. And then...I got mad. Not just ticked, or pissed, or angry...I got downright infuriated with a rage unlike anything I had ever felt. It radiated out of me hotter than those 200 watt incandescent light bulbs. The glow from my eyes reflected on his olive skin, and I could feel my fangs come to life as a growl vibrated up from my chest and out of my mouth. A long snarling growl that probably would have put Dragos's to shame. All because of that fucking arrow.
Whirling around, I faced the group still lingering around me. Two of them I didn't recognize, but Sinclair...oh yeah...I sure as hell recognized him, and he was going to give me some answers or I was going to rearrange his handsome face to look like a Picasso.
"What happened?" I hissed, zeroing in on him.
"He was wounded in battle."
His dry tone...his vacant, expressionless face...his better than thou attitude, only added fuel to the fire burning inside me, and made me want to rip his ear off so I could cram it where his mouth was.
"No shit Sherlock!" I yelled. "Who shoots someone with an arrow in this day and age? Who was he fighting? Pocahontas!" If it was her, she was going to be painting the colors of the wind with her own blood.
The only indication he gave he was the least bit miffed at my outburst, was how far his perfectly groomed dark brow peaked on his forehead as he arched it at me. But I didn't care if he didn't appreciate me raising my voice at him. In fact, that eyebrow of his was about two seconds away from me gleefully removing it with a roll of duct tape. I was done taking the high road with these vamps. I was speeding down the slash-your-tires-and-punch-you-in-the-throat super highway.
There was no hiding this level of crazy, and I wasn't about to waste my time trying. Despite everything, seeing Fang lying unconscious and choking out each painful breath, the steady crying of Courtanya, and the continued stares of the vampires, a laser beam of pure undiluted desire was igniting inside me. Only this time, because I was so close to him, and could smell his blood...it was a million times stronger than ever before.
My breasts ached to the point I had to clench my fists to my sides to keep from cupping them to ease the agony. My nipples were hard enough to cut diamonds. And you know those little bumps around your nipples? Yeah...those. Those I could actually feel rubbing against the inside of my bra as if they had turned into braille, and were spelling out "suck here". The increased thrumming between my legs was pumping out a wicked beat, and I had all I could do to not tap my foot to the tempo and sway my hips suggestively to the wanton rhythm. So...yeah...let's just say the chains were snapping off my mood swings one by one, and if these vamps knew what was good for them, they'd be smart to back the hell up.
"I believe I have already told you, Melanie, he was fighting for our cause against the Elders." He tilted his snobby chin with the perfect divot towards the arrow sticking out of Fang's chest. "According to Lucien, this flew from Druilla's bow. She is rather fond of antiquated weaponry and those feathers are her colors."
"That fucking bunny boiling bitch," I snarled. That's it. I was no longer going to play little Miss Nice to that hag. Usually, I should get more credit than I do for not acting on all the evil twisted thoughts that run randomly through my mind from time to time, but now, I was going to let them loose. Each one from now on would be zeroing in on her. She wanted to turn my man into a vampire on a stick? Just wait, the Karma bus was coming, and I'm the maniac behind the wheel laying on the horn.
Fang groaned, drawing my attention to him like a heat seeking missile. Shakily, I placed my hands on his chest, letting them flutter around in a worthless pattern unsure what to do. This was so not my area of expertise, but, in spite of my lack of Florence Nightingale capability, he seemed to calm at my touch.
"The arrow tip is made of pure lead. It is seeping further into his system," Sinclair said as if he was simply stating what day of the week it was. "It will not be long now."
I whipped around to face him. "Long? What do you mean long?"
"It will not be long before death claims him."
"He's going to die!" I screamed, spinning back around to grab Fang's limp hand. His impossibly cold...limp...hand. No...no...no...this couldn't be happening. Not again. Laying his palm carefully back on the gurney, I stomped up to Sinclair, and glared into his face. Well, since he was a good couple of feet taller than me, I was more or less glaring up into his nostrils, but it didn't stop me. "You save him dammit, or so help me..."
Sinclair held up his hand, cutting off my threat. His dark eyes narrowed down at me. "I cannot. Tallon is our healer, only he can save him."
"Then get his ass over here!"
"My ass is already here," a deep voice replied.
Turning, I saw one of the vamps looming behind us step forward. All the nasty things I was going to hurl in his direction, evaporated as his silver eyes met mine. Yes...you heard me right. Silver. The irises of his eyes were two luminous pools of mercury, glittering through long dark lashes, and had an exotic tilt. Tallon was built like the rest of them...huge...and well-muscled, but definitely wasn't the image you conjured in your mind when you heard the word healer. Usually, that entailed some skinny, longhaired hippy, wearing tie dyed natural fabrics beating on a drum in the middle of a smoke filled yurt. Apparently this guy decided to break the stereotype, and smash it to smithereens with his smooth caramel colored skin, bodybuilder physique, and crisp linen shirt tucked into a pair of skin tight black leather pants. Although, he did have the long hair. It was inky black, and pulled back in a pony tail that fell down his back in a straight curtain.
"Uh...good," I mumbled, giving him a little nod of approval. "Can you pull the arrow out?"
"Do I have your permission to assist him?" he asked, his eyes moving over to where Fang laid before blinking back at me.
"Huh?" I was having trouble grasping what he was asking. I blame it on those eyes. Shiny things were always distracting to me.
"Your permission, your Majesty. I am not allowed to tender aid to the King without his mates assent."
My eyes rolled. Holy Moses on a pogo stick, these vamps were stupidly stuck in their archaic ways. "Yes, yes...by all means, assist him!" I snapped.
Tallon rolled up his sleeves revealing strange dark tattoos. They were a series of thick black lines, swirling and interlocking into beautiful geometric shapes. I would have been way more impressed if I hadn't been nervously dancing at his heels like a Chihuahua with a bladder control problem in my worry over Fang. With gentle fingers, he prodded the quickly discoloring skin around the shaft of the arrow, causing Fang to moan and writhe.
"It's as we thought. The arrowhead is indeed made of lead, and it's swiftly seeping into his system." He dropped his head and sighed, stepping back from the stretcher. "If the arrow remains, it will kill him."
"Well...DUH! Pull it out!" Sheesh...were did he get his healer license? Out of a Cracker Jack box?
"If I pull it out, he will only die faster." Tallon looked down at me sadly, his palm landing on my shoulder. "That arrow is lodged in his heart. If I remove it, he will bleed out."
I frantically looked around the room. We were standing in what looked like a typical emergency room. Tallon was a doctor...or healer...or Cracker Jack aficionado...or whatever. It couldn't be possible with all this medical crap surrounding us, that there was nothing he could do. I've watched enough television in my time. They should be running around in white coats, scrubbing up, and yelling things like "Give me two CC's stat!" or "He's not dying! Not on my watch!" But, instead, they were standing around with their thumbs up their butts.
"Then do surgery!" I yelled, grabbing the front of his shirt and shaking him. "I don't care if you have to carve him up like a jack-o-lantern, but you have to save him!"
"I can remove the arrow, but he is going to need blood," Tallon said calmly, unhooking me off his shirt. "A lot of blood, and to be specific...he's going to need your blood."
I staggered backwards. "My...my blood?" I stuttered. Oh no! Just the thought of it had my pulse racing and skidding out of control as my internal temperature rose to the point I was certain my liver was boiling. My skin was already sizzling hot enough to fry an egg, too much more, and I would turn into a Denny's Lumberjack platter. "You have blood banks," I stammered, backing away. "Lots of them. Don't you have a few liters of soccer mom in the fridge or something you can give him?"
Tallon shook his head. "No. It has to be the blood of his mate. No other blood will suffice."
"I'm not his mate." Groaning, I doubled over. Even saying the word made things worse. Suddenly, my clothes felt too tight...too confining...too itchy, and I wanted to rip them off. "We've never..." Another moan erupted out of my throat. "I mean...we haven't actually..." I couldn't say the word, and remain standing. If I said the big S word, things were going to get really interesting in here real quick.
"It does not matter," Sinclair announced, reminding me he was still in the room. "Drake should already be dead. A direct hit like the one he received should have sealed his fate, but yet...he lingers." He glared over at me as I panted against a cool wall, trying to battle my raging hormones. "We suspect it has something to do with you." The distain in is voice was hard to miss.
I turned to look at Fang. My thoughts, fears and worry for him didn't seem to make no difference to the lust building steadily inside me since the moment I walked through the door. My nerves endings were ablaze, my gut clenched tight as if I had done a thousand crunches, and my blood rushed so loudly, I could barely hear anything else above the din of the roar. I tried taking a calming breath, but it only brought more of him into my already over sensitized senses. The blood...his scent...I weaved unsteadily on my heels, and wondered if a person could actually die from unfulfilled lust. Because, if I didn't get out of this room soon, they might very well be burying two bodies.
The image of our two tombstones snuggled up together out in the asylum garden, snapped me out of it...somewhat. I still wanted to jump on that gurney and ride Fang like a rented mule. Badly. And I wasn't too concerned who saw it, but I had one tiny bit of self-control still holding on. But, I'm not going to lie, that sucker was stretched so tight, it could snap at any moment.
"I am still not his mate," I argued weakly.
"It does not matter, not to him."
"Are you telling me he needs my blood because he has chosen me for his mate?" I asked, my voice taking on a breathy dreamy tone I didn't recognize. I sounded like one of those 1-900 numbers.
"It is more than that, Melanie." Sinclair crossed his arms over his chest. His dark suit coat pulling tightly across his shoulders. "We believe there is something to your blood. Pure lead introduced into a vampire's body is a death sentence...and an instantaneous one when the shot is as mortal as the one he received."
All eyes turned to me. Even Courtanya's weepy ones. Eventually, I managed to shove the yearning lust aside enough for the lightbulb to finally switch on.
"Lead doesn't affect me," I said in amazement. "I'm not allergic to it." Excitement and hope had me straightening up to do a little happy dance. "Take that you desperate smutbag!" I hollered, fist pumping the air.
Tallon snorted, hiding his smirk. "This is hardly an allergic reaction we are talking about, but in essence...yes. If it is true, and you really are not affected by lead, then the only way to save him is for his Majesty to receive your blood. Since he is not conscious and cannot feed himself, then we must pump it into him. Only then do I dare pull out the arrow."
The seriousness of his voice, cancelled my celebratory impromptu dance party.
"But...if it's in his heart..."
"Drake has already informed us on how quickly you heal from injury, and how he too swiftly regenerated after your time together in the dungeon." Sinclair shrugged a shoulder. "We are hoping this is indeed the truth. We believe if he is given a significant amount of your blood, his wound will heal fast enough to close once the arrow is removed."
Somehow, I didn't quite like the sound of that "significant amount" part of his speech. Judging by the look he was giving me, I doubted Sinclair gave two shits if I was drained of every drop, as long as Fang survived. To him, I was utterly disposable.
Turning, I pleaded my case to Tallon. "But...but you are a healer." Surely he had to take some kind of oath to heal the sick, and wouldn't agree to siphon me to death. At the very least, maybe the Cracker Jack box had also come with a secret decoder ring with a message of "don't kill the innocent", namely...me.
"There is no surgeon who can fix the damage as grave as his Majesty's quickly enough to save him. The only reason his heart still beats is because of the arrow itself." Tallon paused and looked over at Fang. "And because of you. A bonded male vampire would do anything to be with their mate...even defy death itself." He turned to face me, his silver eyes flashing brightly. "His Majesty was within inches of death...until he sensed you were near." Turning, he walked over to one of the many cabinets, pulling out supplies. "It is up to you, your Majesty," he said holding up what appeared to be plastic tubing. "But make your decision quick, his time is getting shorter."
"You have to do this," Courtanya hissed, running up and grabbing me by the shoulders. "You are the reason he is dying! This is your fault!" Spittle from her mouth flew and hit me in the face while she shook me like I was the cup of dice in a Yahtzee game.
Shoving her away from me, I wiped her drool off my face with the back of my hand. "My fault? I'm not the one who shot him! Your delusional Mistress was the one who went all Last of the Mohicans on him, not me."
"Yes, but it would not have happened if not for you. Everything that has happened is because of you," she said vehemently, poking me in the chest with her tiny index finger. "The elders are destroying anything and everything in their path to get to you. He risked his life to save others, because of what you started. And now, you will save him, because he is our only chance of having peace in our world. A peace we no longer have because of you."
Drat. Sometimes I wished Bubbles would use a tube of super glue instead of Chap Stick. As much as I didn't like what she had to say, I had to admit...she was kind of sort of maybe...right. Double drat. My boyfriend was turning into a real pain in the neck, literally. I either ponied-up and let them tap me, or I watched him die. And if he died...I gulped...then there really wouldn't be a reason for them to keep me around, now would there?
Letting out a heavy sigh, I walked over to Tallon. "Hook me up and let's get this party started," I muttered. He gave a short nod, and started to prepare for the transfusion. I looked down at Fang's impossibly pale face. Right now, he was making Snow White look like she had a beach tan. A tear worked its way out of the corner of my eye, and I quickly scrubbed it away. "This is the second time I've had to save your ass, you big lug," I muttered, lightly brushing my fingers down his strong, chiseled jaw. At my touch, his head turned into my palm, and I leaned down to press a kiss to his cold lips. "I will always save you, because I sort of like having you around," I whispered. "But if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it.
Within minutes, I was stretched out on a gurney next to Fang's. With a sharp pinch, Tallon stuck a needle attached to tubing to the side of my neck, ran it through some kind of spinning machine, and then did the same to Fang's neck. Within seconds, I saw my bright red blood flowing through the tube from me to Fang. When the red line disappeared under his skin, his body jolted off the table as if he had jumper cables attached to his nipples.
I can't really say much about what happened after that...because...all I saw was red...blood...my blood...stretching between us...making me woozy. Who knew the sight of that much blood would make me faint? I certainly didn't. If I had, I would have been smart enough to look away, but...since I didn't...the room began to spin at an ungodly speed. Whirling around and around and around in a vibrant kaleidoscope of colors just before everything went dark, as if somebody had turned out the lights.
Author's Note:
Mel saves the day once again! Will this finally put her in the good graces of the others? Will she be able to still resist the call of her blood now that she has made the bond between the two of them even stronger? Stay tuned to find out!
Hello my FANGED Fiends!
After a long wait...your much anticipated installment has finally happened. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, you will consider giving it a vote. I have been having a blast reading your comments, and I always appreciate them. As you know, I haven't had much time to respond lately because I am deep into writing, but I do want you to know that I see them! And have snorted out loud at some very inappropriate times! LOL
If you don't see any updates on your favorite vampires, please feel free to check out my other works Bending Steele, When Roses Collide and Steal You Away.
As always, thank you so much for reading and for your patience. You guys are the best!
Sincerely,
K