Julian seemed to consider the situation. “Maybe she was supposed to be a distraction.” He glanced out at the water, then looked back at Leo. “For all we know, Simon could be preparing to close in for the kill, and I’m not just going to stand on the beach like a welcome wagon for him. I’m getting Rose to the house and…” Now he let Rose go long enough to bound quickly over to the Devil’s Prize and grab an unconscious Marcos from the vessel. He slung the guy over his shoulder and hurried back to Rose’s side. “And I’m making sure my friends are secure. Then I’ll hunt the bastard, just as we agreed. I’ll get your angel back. I’ll get all the paranormals that he’s been keeping.”
With Marcos still over his shoulder, Julian took Rose’s hand and threaded his fingers with hers once more. “And she wasn’t at my side,” he rasped, “because I wanted her safe. Her safety comes first for me. Always. You need to remember that.”
Leo took a lunging step toward him. “And you need to remember that if I don’t get the angel back, you don’t get what you wanted.”
Rose rolled back her shoulders. The odd itch she felt in her skin was getting worse. And she’d started to feel…nauseous. Since when did vamps get nauseous? Well, okay, it happened…but normally only when she was hungry. When she’d gone days without blood.
They headed to the house. As they hurried up the path, they saw Rayce. A now fully awake Rayce. He had the human in his arms. She was still out cold. Good.
They’d deal with her soon enough.
Rayce whistled when he spied Leo. “This day just got even worse, didn’t it?”
Leo grunted back at him.
Their little crew kept trudging to the house—a crew that now included Rayce and the human. Each step…each step became slower for Rose. Harder to take. She felt sluggish and her veins seemed heavy in her body.
Her breath came in pants. And her clothes—even though they were still wet—they felt too hot. Her skin was too hot.
She was too hot. Burning, from the inside.
“Panther.” Leo’s voice was flat with command. “You need to take care of the vampire.”
Julian’s gaze swung toward her. She tried to smile for him but…
Something is wrong with me. Something inside. She could feel it. Her heart was slowing down. Everything was slowing.
Julian put Marcos on the ground. Marcos gave a little snore. Definitely still out.
“Rose?” Concern flashed on Julian’s face. “Rose, what’s wrong?”
She tried to speak, but her throat seized up. She couldn’t even gasp. Her whole body was heavy. She felt as if it were shutting down.
“I told you,” Leo said, but his voice didn’t have a know-it-all tone. Instead, he sounded worried and that scared Rose. “She drank my blood. There will be repercussions.”
She was dizzy. The world spun around Rose. Julian caught her right before she fell.
“Get her inside,” Leo blasted. “Give her your blood. Do whatever the hell you can for her or—”
Is my heart still beating? Rose couldn’t tell.
“Or she could die…and if she does, I don’t think she’ll be coming back.”
Chapter Eleven
“Rose? Love, love, I need you to look at me.” He tried to keep the fear out of his voice, but Julian knew he failed. Shit, he was too terrified to hold his control. Rose was in his arms, and she was burning up. Literally hot to the touch—so hot she was singing him.
She seemed to be burning up, from the inside out, and he was so afraid that he was losing her.
Leo should have fucking said his blood was poison! He dicked around out there while she was dying!
Julian had Rose back in his room, in his shower, and he turned on the water so that it was ice cold. He ripped her wet clothes off her, and he pulled her under that cold spray, desperate to do anything to help her.
Her eyes were open, on him, but the green was weak. Her skin was too pale, but burning hot. She was shuddering, but not making a sound.
She was slipping away from him.
“Drink from me,” he ordered her because that had been one of Leo’s orders. The guy had said she needed Julian’s blood. So he’d give her every last drop if that was what it took. “Drink, love. Drink.”
Her little fangs were out, but she didn’t move her head toward him. Instead, her head sagged forward. No! He drove his fingers into the thickness of her hair and tipped back her head. “You have to drink because you have to live.” The water was freezing, but when it hit her body, steam rose in the air around them. He pushed her head against his neck and her teeth raked over his skin. “Bite me. Do it. Bite.”
Her teeth sank into him.
One of his hands slammed against the tile of the shower wall, knocking it hard enough to leave a dent. His other cradled her head, holding her so carefully. Need—dark lust—snaked through his body as it always did when she took his blood. His dick was rock hard, but he ignored the desire that came from her bite. This wasn’t about sex. This was about her survival. This was about her.
She was everything to him. Had she ever realized it?
She drank. Her mouth moved on his neck, sucking him, licking, taking his blood. His muscles were rock hard. The water kept pouring onto him, but it wasn’t cooling him down. When her mouth was on him, nothing cooled him down.
His fist drove into the wall again.
Stay controlled. Let her take. She needs this.
His fist hit again. He could feel the blood on his knuckles.
And his other hand tenderly cradled her.
She drank.
***