Читать книгу Seduced by the Vampire King - Laura Kaye - Страница 7

Chapter Three

Vampire.

Her heart pounded in her chest, forcing her blood through her veins so hard and fast the roaring whoosh of it filled her ears.

He was a freaking vampire!

But…oh, God…what kind?

Kate had to look. Either way, she had to know what she was dealing with. Light-headedness threatened from her rapid breathing, but Kate forced herself to creep onto her knees and reach out a shaking hand. Shining her flashlight on his face, she flinched as her thumb pressed to his eyelid.

Please, please, please. The light quivered as she lifted the thin membrane of skin, hoping against hope it didn’t reveal the soulless black iris and sclera of a Soul Eater. Her whole body sagged in relief. A perfectly white sclera and bright sapphire-blue iris shined out at her.

Oh, thank God.

Not one of the evil ones, then. She dropped her head into her hands and sucked in deep breaths that did little to ease her.

She’d traveled five thousand miles to get away from vampires—from studying them, preparing to serve them, from the possibility of a future involving them—and here she sat, in a pitch-black alley, with an unconscious one at her feet.

And, holy shit, she wasn’t even going to let herself think about why the vampire’s blood had affected her that way. Why it still affected her body and instincts and reactions even now.

Everything she’d been running from had just caught up to her. Her parents were members of the Electorate, a group of influential humans who knew about the presence of vampires in the world, hid their existence and worked with them in their fight against evil vampires known as Soul Eaters. For their efforts, the humans reaped benefits from the alliance—including earning the vampires’ protection and access to their blood, which cured disease and slowed the aging process significantly.

When she’d turned sixteen, Kate’s parents had shared their secret and encouraged her to enroll in a program that would immerse her in the history and culture of vampires, preparing her to one day take their place on the Electorate Council. The program also entered her in a training class to become what they called a Proffered, a virgin human woman trained to serve the blood needs of the vampire warrior class—and possibly become a lifelong mate. Apparently, all vampires were born male, so the perpetuation of their species could only be achieved through the joining of the races, a joining that cemented their alliance through kin ties and not just diplomacy alone.

In the beginning, Kate had been interested. She loved medieval history and was intrigued by her discovery of this world within a world. Her parents’ enthusiasm and pride also drove her. And, as she learned of their prominence within the council, she felt the weight of familial obligation, too. But the whole Proffered thing…it scared her as much as it fascinated her.

The idea of it felt objectifying and exploitative. When she gave someone her virginity, she wanted it to be because they liked and cared for her—she didn’t even have to have full-out love. But she certainly didn’t want it to be because she happened to have the ability to fulfill some biological need. And the idea of becoming a vampire’s lifelong mate—what did that even mean? The whole thing raised so many questions.

So, as she’d neared her twentieth birthday—the year in which human blood apparently became particularly powerful for a vampire—she’d known she would never be able to go through with it, and she’d withdrawn from her training early.

She stared at the man—the warrior, probably—in front of her and had to admit that, despite her jaw-dropping surprise at encountering the very thing she’d believed she could never accept, that fierce strain of protectiveness from before still flowed through her.

She gasped. The ambulance would be here soon. Oh, my God. They can’t find him.

Kate flew upright, her back ramrod straight. She might not want to become a vampire’s mate, but that didn’t mean she had any intention of revealing their existence to the broader world. Between her training and her family, she understood very well how important the good vampires were to humans’ survival against the evil ones, and thus how vital it was to keep the secret. They had to get out of here. She had to get them out.

Though she’d never seen it firsthand, she’d learned vampires could heal, so her concerns about moving him alleviated a little. But she couldn’t even attempt it while he remained facedown.

Silently apologizing, she braced both hands on the shoulder closest to the neck wound and entry hole in the back of his coat. Digging the toes of her boots into the gravel, it took all her strength to get him moving, but finally she rolled him onto his back. Pulse racing, her gaze raked over his features, but they were hard to make out through the dark and the loose strands of hair and smears of dirt and blood that covered his face.

She frowned. The left side of his hair bore no braid. Not a warrior after all, then, as braids represented the fraternity and bond of the warrior class.

Her thoughts scattered as her eyes caught a glint of metal on his chest. His bloody hand gripped a gun, a semiautomatic SIG Sauer, if she wasn’t mistaken. Some introductory weapons training had been her father’s idea.

Frowning, she inhaled a deep breath and reached for it, surprised at how much effort it took to pry his fingers free from the grip. “If you can hear me, I’m not stealing it, I promise. I’m just going to hold it for you. I don’t want to try to move you with it loose.”

A growl sounded in her head. Her gaze flashed to his unconscious face. The voice she’d heard, this sound—could they be coming from him? She’d never learned of such a thing, though, she’d also never met a real living breathing vampire—or wanted to.

“We have to get you out of here,” she said in a hushed voice. “Please.”

His fingers relaxed. Or so it seemed. She finally pulled the weapon free.

With the help of her flashlight, she engaged the decocking mechanism on the side of the gun’s frame, making it safe to stow. But it was too big for her coat pocket. Feeling ridiculous, she holstered it in the waistband on the back of her jeans, grimacing at the feeling of the cold metal digging into her skin.

Stepping to his shoulders, Kate reached under his arms and gripped the fabric there. Her hands were so cold that she had to fight for purchase against the material. She rose into a crouched position and tugged.

Nothing. Not even a budge. Oh, no. “Come on, mister. We have to go before the ambulance gets here.”

This time she tried hooking her arms under his, and that worked, but it placed so much strain on her back she had to keep pausing. Thank God the authorities moved slowly in Moscow. Her ears strained to hear the far-off sound of sirens that would tell her she was out of time.

As she dragged him in uneven starts and stops over the gravel, her hunched-over position brought her face close to his. A warm thrill zinged down her spine and settled into her stomach like a shot of vodka. His spicy scent was so strong and appealing up close she had to resist leaning in farther, pressing her nose to his cheek, his hair. His throat.

Jeez, Kate, get your freaking head together.

They rounded the back of the building and victory flared in her gut. Now to find a place to conceal him while the ambulance came and went. Kate straightened to a standing position and pressed her palms into her lower back, stretching and soothing. A street lamp on the other side of the building’s rear revealed a small parking lot with a half-dozen cars parked against a chain-link fence and a Dumpster close to where she stood. Maybe she could hide him behind the line of cars. Maybe the ambulance crew would assume it was a false report. Maybe they wouldn’t see the disturbed gravel where she’d dragged him. That was a lot of damn maybes, but what else could she do?

“We’re almost there, now,” she murmured as she bent again and hooked her arms under his. “Hold on.” Pushing herself harder, she tugged him toward the row of cars. But what was she going to do with him after this crisis passed? She shook her head and focused on pulling him. She could only worry about one thing at a time.

A wet, throaty groan sounded from the vampire.

Kate’s gaze dropped to his face, only dimly illuminated by the distant light. “It’s all right,” she said. “You’re gonna be all right.”

Her foot went down farther than she expected. Kate stumbled, her boot wedged in some kind of hole, and struggled to hold her balance. She failed.

She landed so hard her breath exploded out of her. The way she’d had her arms wedged under his kept them hooked together, and the vampire’s dead weight landed on her aching legs.

Her tailbone throbbing from the impact with the ground and the way the gun’s barrel dug into her skin, Kate groaned and fought to pull herself free of him.

Another, louder growl rolled out of his chest, like the low rumble of thunder, and he stirred, his head jerking against her thighs.

If he regained consciousness, this would be so much easier. “Hey, are you—”

A tearing pain ripped into her wrist.

Kate cried out and tried to wrench away, but— Oh, my God! He bit me! She gasped and moaned, “No!”

She threw every muscle into escaping the iron grip of his hands on her forearm and his impaling fangs in her radial artery. Her boots scrambled for purchase against the loose gravel but his weight held her down. With her free hand, she grabbed a fistful of blond hair and yanked.

The sound that ripped from his throat issued an animalistic warning her body recognized. Her heart raced in her chest, her scalp prickled and the hair rose on her arms and neck. Clutching her arm, he rolled onto his side and settled most of his big body within the cradle of her thighs, one shoulder pinning her hips tight and hard.

Pozhaluĭsta, pozhaluĭsta. Please, he begged over and over, wearing down her resistance as his tone became more desperate.

Blood rushing behind her ears, the sound even louder for the deep, sucking draws exiting through her wrist, Kate went still.

Please, he groaned in her head. Dying.

The abject need in his voice sucker punched her. Her hand slackened in his thick hair, but didn’t fall away altogether.

Dying. The possibility made her feel dizzy and weak. Or maybe that was just the blood loss. For sure, though, injured as he was, he must require a lot of blood. Could she really deny him what he needed to survive? Did she even want to? His tongue laved over her skin, and her body knew the answer even if her brain resisted.

As she acquiesced, the hard metal digging into her sacrum captured her attention. The gun. Kate debated and rejected the idea in the blink of an eye. He was one of the good ones. And he wouldn’t kill her. As soon as the thought passed through her brain, her heart knew the truth of it.

I give…my word.

His being in her head felt inexplicably right. She fell back against the ground and gave in to his desire.

He unleashed an anguished whimper. Thank you.

Kate sucked in a breath at the way he seemed to respond to her thoughts. Without conscious thought, she stroked his hair and turned her head to watch him. The darkness and the angle of his face concealed the feeding, but Kate didn’t need to see it.

She felt it. In every cell of her body.