Suddenly aware of tension in his neck and shoulders, Lucern removed his leather jacket and tossed it over a chair. He rotated first one shoulder then the other, then his head as well, trying to ease the muscles there. It was Kate's doing. He wished he knew what she was thinking and where she stood on the matter. He wanted her to want him. He wanted her. He grimaced. It was a foolish want. Kate was a modern woman with career aspirations and a life and home in New York. She had left life in sleepy Nebraska to pursue a job in the publishing industry. She would hardly give that up to move to Canada to carry out an affair—and Lucern didn't know her well enough to be sure he wanted a life with her. For the average human, a bad marriage was only a forty- or fifty-year sentence; it could be much much longer for him.
His gaze slid to the small bar in the corner, and he considered a Scotch before bed. He decided against it. He wasn't much of a drinker and didn't want to start relying on it. Alcohol had done serious damage to his father, Claude, even killing him in the end.
Shrugging, he decided he might as well go to sleep.
The first thing that struck him when he entered his room was the sweet smell of blood heavy in the air. Then he realized that the bedside lamp was on, and he stiffened. He had turned the light out before leaving for the ball. It was now on. His body began to pump adrenaline even as his gaze swept the room.
The partially open fridge door, and the slashed bags of blood lying before it, explained the scent in the air. Other than that, nothing seemed disturbed. There didn't appear to be anyone around. Of course, the scent of blood was so thick, his usual ability to sense anyone nearby was hampered.
He took a step toward his looted blood supply, in-tending to see if anything was salvageable. But even as he did, he heard the whisper of the bedroom door swinging closed behind him. He whirled just in time to feel the stake slamming into his chest.
Kate had removed her clothes and was debating whether to shower or simply go to bed when she heard a crash. She paused, her head tilting as she listened. When something slammed hard into the wall separating her room from Luc's, she snatched for her robe, dragged it on, and tied the sash as she ran into the living room.
The door to Lucern's room was closed. Kate didn't bother to knock, but thrust it open and rushed inside. She nearly crashed into two men locked in combat. At first, all she saw were the two men grappling with each other; then she noticed the stake, its tip buried in Lucern's chest and blood seeping out. She shrieked in horror, though she didn't know it. She heard the yell as a distant sound.
At last, breaking out of her shock-induced paralysis, she glanced wildly around. The only weapon she could see were the bedside lamps. She ran to grab one, cursing when the damned thing didn't move. It was fastened to the bedside table. Her gaze shot back to Lucern and his assailant. There was more blood, and it seemed to her the stake had gone deeper. Lucern appeared to be weakening. Yet there wasn't a single damned thing around to use as a weapon. Desperate, she grabbed a pillow and ran over, batting at the stranger, then slamming the pillow into his head and shoulders. Her attack had little effect on the man. He didn't even glance around.
Letting loose a howl of rage as her gaze shifted to Lucern's pale face, Kate caught the pillow at each end and swung it over the attacker's head and slammed it into his face. Pulling it tight, she proceeded to try to climb the fellow's back. Much to her relief, he released Lucern and stumbled backward, trying to grab wildly at her. She managed to avoid his flailing hands, and held on to the pillow with all her might. He couldn't possibly breathe like this, and she was praying he would pass out before he managed to get her.
She released an "oomph," but managed to stay on his back as he staggered back into the wall next to the closet. Kate held on, knowing both she and Luc were lost if she didn't.
Kate glanced desperately at Lucern. He was on his knees by the bed, his hands weakly gripping the stake in his chest. She recalled him saying that a stake would kill him if left in too long, and she knew she had to get to him fast. Her thoughts were scattered as the man she was riding slammed backward again, this time propelling them into the closet. Kate grunted as her head slammed into the clothing rod.
The pain was like an explosion inside her head, blinding her with searing white flashes behind her eyes. She wanted to grab her head and hold it in her hands until the agony passed, but she couldn't let go of the pillow and so hung there blind and in agony, clinging to consciousness by a thread.