Last Vampire Standing

I didn’t. I lay quietly, trembling and remembering.

Like book pages being fanned, images flipped through my memory. Saber moving incredibly fast to tackle Laurel last night. Pulling his gun on her Saturday night before I could blink. Firing on the sniper before I saw him draw his gun. None of those movements had been quite preternatural, yet they seemed speedier than a human could manage. The tremors shook my body like a severe case of chills now, and I couldn’t stop the whimper that gripped my throat. Saber shifted. Next thing I knew, his tanned hand lay on the sheet over my belly.



“You saw the photos.”

I cut my gaze to his and tried to breathe. “I did.”

“You never wondered how I had over a thousand kills?”

I let out a little sob. “I thought you were very driven.”

Saber snorted. “You would be right.”

“What happened?”

My whisper was more ragged than I wanted it to be, and Saber’s cobalt eyes turned nearly black in the dim light.

“My father and grandfather were slayers, but they moved often to protect the family. To protect me.” He paused, swallowed. “I overheard them talking about a turf war between the vamps and the werewolves one night. I was ten. When they left to do their jobs, I followed them.

“I stayed a safe distance away, and I watched the bloodbath that killed my grandfather and wounded my father. When I thought everyone was gone, I went to help. That’s when a vamp and a were attacked again.”

My gut seized. “They killed your dad?”

“They tortured him. They cut me, and then themselves, and mingled our blood. Then they forced me to suck their wounds and swallow the blood.”

“While your dad watched.” I saw it unfold in his memory as if on a fuzzy movie screen.

“They told my father to remember that what he despised was now in me, that I was now a blood brother to them. Shit, it was the only time I ever knew a vamp and a were to cooperate.”

I gritted my teeth against the pain rolling off the boy in the vision. “Your father recovered?”

Saber gave a shuddering sigh and met my gaze. “Yes. He trained me, and he kept an eye on me for changes, but there weren’t any. Dad never treated me like something he hated.”

Since looking into his eyes had broken the mind connection, I had to ask. “Is he still living?”

He shook his head, a tiny movement. “My parents died ten years ago.”

“I take it the werewolf and vampire who did that to you are also dead.”

“They are.”

I held the silence for a moment. “Does anyone else know?”

“Like the vamps or the VPA?” He shrugged. “I think Ike knew something was different, but he never mentioned it. The VPA knows, and my government records have been altered.”

“Meaning what? You have a fake ID that makes you younger instead of older?”

“Exactly.” He hesitated, then said, “I always planned to tell you, I just didn’t know how. How pissed are you?”

As soon as he asked, my body relaxed. “Not too much. I’m not quite the cradle robber I thought I was, and that’s good.”

“But?”

“But, if you’re not a vampire or a werecreature, what—” I broke off, not sure that I wanted to know.

“What am I?” Saber smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m human with enhancements. My senses are heightened, though not as keen as yours. I have more strength and speed, and I’m immune to vamp enthrallment. I heal quickly and age slowly.”

“So you’ll be around for a while yet?”

He began kneading my belly with his warm hand. “As long as you want me.”

I let the last big pieces of confusion fall away. This was still Saber. The man I loved.

“Promise me one thing.”

“No more secrets?”

“No more cracks about bonfire birthday cakes.”

He smiled and moved his hand south until he cupped my mound and squeezed. Oh. So. Slowly.

“The only fire . . .” he crooned, his voice a wicked invitation.

I squirmed under his probing fingers.

“That I’ll mention again . . .”

My breathing grew heavy as wet heat flooded me.

“Is the one right here.”





EIGHTEEN


023

At six fifteen that evening, Saber and I sat with Donita in her modest home on a quiet residential street. Eyes red and puffy, she curled up at one end of an overstuffed couch, hugging her knees. A lost waif.

Judging from the tissues littering the carpet, Donita had been in the same place since she came home. If she’d entertained Ike here, I could see why she’d avoid the bedroom.

“I’m sorry about your arm,” she told Saber for the second time since she’d let us in. “I can’t believe Laurel got away.”

I’d made him wear the sling. Fast healer or not, a broken wrist took a human time to mend. Besides, it might make one of the vamps we’d visit later underestimate him.

“Captain Jackson told me he saw you earlier,” Saber said.