Runaway Vampire (Argeneau, #23)

“I was badly injured in the accident,” he said quietly. “My lower left leg was crushed, my one lung was punctured, I had several broken ribs, and I’m pretty sure several of my organs were crushed or at least seriously banged up in it as well. The tires tore my skin open in several places and the nanos simply couldn’t close everything up before I lost a good deal of blood. They do need blood to work with after all and I was losing it quickly.”

He shrugged. “Were I mortal, I would have died quickly, I think. But I am not and when you brought the doctors to me, I fed from them and the nanos began to work in earnest. Of course, I couldn’t take all the blood I needed from them. It would have killed them, so I had the female fetch—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mary interrupted with exasperation. “What do you mean you fed on them?”

“Their blood,” he explained and reminded her, “The nanos need blood to do their work, as well as to power them.”

“Their blood,” she echoed in a whisper, then tilted her head and asked, “You saying that lady doctor fetched those men from the diner so you could . . .”

“So I could feed on them,” he explained with a nod. “I fed on the EMTs too, and between them, the truckers and the doctors I gained enough blood for the nanos to make the necessary repairs. Fortunately, Tomasso and I have always been fast healers. Another immortal might have needed more time to allow the nanos to make the necessary repairs, but—” He paused and peered at her warily when Mary cursed under her breath.

She ran one weary hand through her short hair and shook her head with disgust as she muttered, “You’re like a damned roller coaster, Dante. And I’m a bloody idiot.”

“You are not an idiot,” he said indignantly.

“I am,” Mary assured him, pulling her hands from his and urging Bailey off the bench seat so she could get up. She started toward the door, and then paused and swung back, saying, “You pop up in my RV with mad stories of being kidnapped and escaping, and I, like an idiot, believed you,” she pointed out. “At least I did until you started spouting off about reading and controlling minds. I smartened up just a little at that point and decided maybe you weren’t the innocent victim but a lunatic. But what do I do? Do I call the police like any intelligent woman would? No, I call that idiot friend of yours.”

“Er . . .” He cleared his throat. “It might be best not to call Lucian that to his face. He would be offended and no doubt say or do something unfortunate, and I would hate to have to kill him. It would cause trouble in the family.”

Mary ignored his interruption and continued, “That idiot friend backs you up, claiming you can indeed read and control minds and I think, all right, maybe like Horatio, there are more things in heaven and earth than I’d ever dreamt of, and I go back to at least accepting it’s possible and believing that you were kidnapped again.” She glared at him. “But then you come up with this? I’m supposed to buy that you’re some kind of new vampire?”

“Immortal,” he corrected softly.

“Vampire,” Mary snapped. “Let’s call a spade a spade here, shall we? You’re claiming you drank the blood of those people at the truck stop and got all better, your broken ribs and crushed organs healed. That’s a vampire,” she spat, and then added, “And I don’t believe it, so go sell it to some witless little girl who can’t see past her hormones.”

Dante frowned and then tilted his head and said something that she was pretty sure was a curse in Italian. Sighing, he tugged out the elastic he’d tied his hair back with, and then ran his hands through his long hair as if his head hurt, before muttering, “You are the most frustrating woman.”

“So control me,” Mary suggested dryly, snatching up a coffee mug and sticking it in the single coffee server. She placed a single-serve cup into the machine, closed it, turned it on and waited as her coffee was made.

“I have already told you that I am unable to either read or control you,” Dante said patiently.

Mary snorted her disbelief. “You’ve told me a lot of things.”

“And everything I’ve told you has been the truth, Mary. I would not lie to you.”

“All men lie,” she growled. “If nothing else, I’ve certainly learned that life lesson.”

“Do not judge me by your husband’s behavior,” Dante growled back, sounding furious. And a lot closer, she noted and turned to find he too had stood up and was directly behind her, his face flush with anger and his hands balled as if he wanted to hit something.

“Every man I’ve ever known has cheated and lied,” she said grimly. “My father, my husband . . . even Dave, according to you.”

“Mary—”

“Why do you care about what I think anyway?” she snapped. “I’m surprised you’re still even here. I got you away from your kidnappers. Why don’t you go find your friends now and go after your brother? I know you want to.”

“I do,” he admitted grimly. “However, I cannot leave you so long as there is a possibility my kidnappers might stalk you in their hunt for me.”

“Oh, yes, we’re bait. I forgot,” she muttered, turning back to the coffee machine.

Dante immediately caught her arm and swung her back. “You are not bait. I am bait. You are . . .” He paused, frustration crossing his face, and then he growled that frustration aloud and pulled her forward.





Nine