“I’ve discovered that I rather like watching you, Jane. More than a job, it’s a downright passion now.”
His voice…it was distorted. Why? Why distort the voice unless…unless he thought she would recognize him.
“You should hurry, Jane. Your brother is going to strike soon. This time, I’m not the one you have to worry about.”
Then he hung up. Sonofabitch.
***
Garrison handed the bagged blood to Annette, his gaze darting nervously around the old club. “Is he…is Paris really a vamp?”
Annette took the blood—the bags were cold because Garrison had just pulled them out of an ice chest. Nausea rolled in her stomach, but she fought it down. Now wasn’t the time for fear or squeamishness.
She didn’t answer Garrison as she turned away and stalked to the back room. The place seemed to whisper to her, dark and twisted secrets spilling from its walls. There had been pain in this place, and not just the kind that was invited at a BDSM club. The building had an old history, as did most of the places in New Orleans. Ghosts lingered. Pain and heartbreak pierced the air.
Those ghosts wanted to talk to her. She could feel them pulling at her, and, normally, she’d listen to them. Maybe she’d even try to help them.
Not today. Today wasn’t for the dead.
Today was for Paris.
She shoved open the door to the back room. Aidan was there, staring down at his friend. Paris was rousing, blinking his eyes. His fangs were already out.
“Give me the blood,” Aidan ordered darkly. “Then you’ll need to get back.”
It wasn’t as if she wanted to get bitten, so that plan sounded pretty good to her. Annette crept closer, then she put one bag of blood in his outstretched hand. She set the others nearby, then backed up.
“Paris.” Aidan said his name, his voice rumbling with the cold power of an alpha wolf.
Paris looked up at him…and then he was snapping his fangs. One instant, Paris had been slumped on the floor, and in the next second, he’d lunged up, going right for Aidan’s throat.
But Aidan was fast—deadly, wickedly fast. Paris missed the alpha’s throat and instead, a bag of blood was shoved into his mouth. His fangs punctured the bag and blood began to trickle out of his mouth.
But he’s drinking it. I can see him swallowing.
Annette wrapped her arms around her middle as she stood there. Paris sucked that bag dry and he didn’t vomit the blood back up.
That was good…wasn’t it? Or was it very, very bad?
Aidan shoved another bag at Paris’s mouth. Then another…another…Paris drained four bags of blood before his body sagged back against the wall, his hands hanging limply in the chains that bound him.
The ragged sound of Paris’s breathing seemed to fill the room.
Aidan stared at him, and the alpha’s face was impassive.
Paris had closed his eyes.
Annette inched forward. Come back to us, Paris. Just come—
His eyes opened—and his golden stare locked straight on her. Hunger flared in his gaze. Lust. And…shame.
Annette’s lips parted in shock. “Paris?” Was he really coming back to them?
“Get…her…out.” His words were a growl.
Pain iced her heart.
“No,” Aidan fired right back. “Annette isn’t going anywhere. You need her. I need her.”
Paris squeezed his eyes shut. “You…were…s-supposed…to—”
“Don’t even start that kill me shit right now,” Aidan blasted. “You have no idea what I’m dealing with, got it? And I will not lose you like this. You’re talking to me. You’re sane again, you’re—”
“Feel it…clawing at me…” Paris gasped. His eyes flew open. She could see the battle in his bright gaze. “Can’t…hold…back…”
“Then we’ll get you more blood,” Aidan said. “We’ll get you whatever you need, but you keep fighting, understand?”
“Werewolves…k-kill…vamps…”
“Don’t tell me the rules,” Aidan snapped at him. “I’m the alpha. I fucking make the rules.”
Yes, he did.
Annette tip-toed closer.
“How the hell did this happen?” Aidan demanded. “How did you change? You didn’t have Jane’s blood. You didn’t even have my blood in the days leading up to this shit. You—”
“Ambulance,” he rasped the word. His gaze slid to Annette, and Paris licked his lips. The terrible burns on his body were finally starting to fade. “G-gave…blood…m-made…drink…”
“What?”
Annette shivered at Aidan’s voice. So quiet. So cold. So deadly.
“Man…r-remember…” Each word seemed a struggle for Paris. His teeth snapped together again.
My, what sharp fangs you have.
The better to drink his prey dry.
And he looks at me as if I’m the prey he wants.
“H-he was there…poured blood…down…throat…” Paris yanked at the chains that held him, giving a guttural cry.
Annette jumped.