“Jane couldn’t keep down the other blood, either,” Vincent said softly. “Not bagged human blood. Not blood straight from a human victim. The only time she was sane was when she had your blood.” He stared at Aidan, his mouth tight. “Because you had already changed her.”
I’d given Jane werewolf blood. Paris already was a werewolf before this change. Yeah, shit, okay, it made sense that his friend would need werewolf blood, too. Locking his teeth, Aidan stepped closer to Paris. He lifted his wrist, offering it to Paris. “You still in there, buddy?” Aidan asked. He needed Paris to talk to him. Needed to know that his friend was still with him.
But Paris just growled. And he was jerking his head, trying to see around Aidan to look at Jane.
“He…He had some of my blood.” Jane’s voice was halting. “At Dr. Bob’s lab…I told you that Paris bit me. He kept that blood down.”
But it sure hadn’t calmed him down from the look of things.
“I can give him more,” Jane said quickly. “Just to tide him over.”
But Aidan shook his head, and even though he hated to say it, he had to voice his fear. “What if your blood makes him…worse, Jane?”
She sucked in a sharp painful breath.
Shit. “Your blood is changing me.” Why deny it? He figured they all needed to get past the denial stage. “We have no idea what it could do to him.”
Vincent gave a grim nod. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but…I agree with the alpha.”
Paris snarled. Spittle flew from his mouth.
“He shouldn’t even be a vamp,” Vincent added “We don’t want to fuck things up any more than they already are.”
“So I’m fucked up now?” Jane’s voice had gone completely flat.
No, to him, she was completely perfect but…
I don’t want her giving up her blood. Aidan pushed his forearm against Paris’s mouth. He felt those fangs slide deep into him, sinking hard and then—
Paris stilled. His lashes had closed when he bit Aidan. For a moment, they stayed closed as if he were savoring his meal, but then his lashes slowly lifted. The wildness seemed to fade from his golden gaze, the insanity cleared for a mere instant in time.
And Aidan was staring into his friend’s eyes again.
Paris tore his mouth from Aidan. Blood dripped from his lips. “K-kill…me…” Paris rasped out the words.
Aidan shook his head. “No, you don’t want—”
But Paris nodded, even as the sanity began to seep from his gaze. “Kill me…” Then, in a quick rush, he whispered, “Before I kill you.”
And Paris lunged toward him, snapping the chain that bound his right wrist. Aidan grabbed his friend and slammed Paris back, ramming Paris’s head into the heavy stone of the wall.
Thunk.
Paris dropped to the floor.
“You killed him!” Annette cried.
But Aidan shook his head. “He’ll rise again in a few hours.” Because if you wanted to kill a vamp, there were only a few tricks that really worked.
A stake to the heart.
A beheading.
Fire.
Annette scrambled to Paris’s side, her fingers flying over him.
Aidan’s hands clenched into fists.
“Well, that bought us a bit of time.” Vincent inclined his head toward Aidan. “Why don’t we finish this outside?”
Aidan would like to finish him outside. Ending the vamp’s life had never been more tempting but…
We need him, for the moment. Jane had been right. So Aidan turned on his heel and walked away. He forced himself not to look back. If he did, he’d just see Paris’s prone body. He’d hear his friend, begging him…
Kill me.
It was the job an alpha was supposed to perform—stopping bloodlust crazed vamps from hurting others. But…to kill Paris?
That’s a job I never hoped to have.
***
Jane watched as Aidan walked away. His steps were rough, angry, and his hands were still clenched into tight fists.
“And that’s the guy you think you want to spend eternity with?” Vincent mumbled under his breath. “Right, good luck with all of that.”
Jane’s gaze flew over to lock with his. “We need to secure Paris.”
“I think the massive brain trauma that your boyfriend just gave him is security enough for the moment but…” Vincent turned away, headed for a closet, and came back with a new manacle and chain. In moments, he’d replaced the one that Paris had so effortlessly ripped from the wall. “That will hold him.”
Maybe.
Annette was sitting on the floor near Paris, her legs tucked neatly under her. Her hand was lightly stroking his cheek, such a tender touch.
A lump rose in Jane’s throat. She could see it now—the connection between Paris and Annette. “How long have you loved him?”
Annette’s hand stilled. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, her voice emotionless. “I hardly know the man at all.” Then she reached into her bag and pulled out—was that dirt? Sure looked like it. And Annette was sprinkling the dirt around Paris’s body.
“What are you doing, witch?” Vincent demanded.
Annette’s head turned, a bit snakelike, and her eyes locked on him. “I’m no witch.”