He increased the pressure until her eyes were bulging in their sockets. “I can’t believe you’re so suicidal.”
“Hate…you…” Was the most she could manage.
Cane released her. Crazed with anger, he flew across the room, gripped one arm of the intricate, wrought iron design that comprised Bev’s headboard and ripped it away from the wall. The metal gave out under his supernatural strength, the twisting and tearing of it echoing around him.
Before Amy could say another word or hurt anyone ever again, he whirled around and hurled the jagged metal spear at her. It drove deep into her heart just as she was about to speak. She stared at him with her crazed, sinister eyes large and round with shock. Her hands curled around the metal that pierced her heart. And then a breath later, she collapsed to the floor.
He’d burn her later. And be relieved he’d destroyed her. It’d been a long time coming.
“Cane.”
His head whipped back to the bed. He climbed onto it and lifted Bev’s limp body into his arms. Her voice had been but a whisper. Her eyes were still closed. But she’d heard him and was still hanging on.
“Goddamn it,” he said on a strangled breath. Shoving hair off her face and fighting the hunger that welled within him at the smell and sight of her blood, he tried to get a grip on his emotions.
He’d never been this devastated, this distraught.
This enraged.
“Save me.”
She barely had the breath to speak, he could hear it. See it. Feel it.
Time was clearly of the essence, but… “You saw what happened. I turned her. And she was pure evil.”
“I’m…not…Amy…”
His eyes squeezed shut. There was nothing more painful for him than this moment. Knowing he’d lose the only thing he’d ever wanted—the only woman he would ever love—if he didn’t act this very second.
But to damn her soul. To make her a demon. How could he?
“Please.” Her voice was even weaker, dying instantly on the warm, night air.
“Forgive me,” he said, his tone strained as every ounce of humanity he’d finally gained was threatened by this horrible turn of events. But to lose Bev… He’d be a mad vampire without her. Twisted by guilt and shame and remorse. Empty. Hollow.
Like Amy.
“It’ll hurt more before it gets better.” That was the only warning he gave before he tore into his wrist and pressed the ravaged, bleeding flesh to her mouth. She had to do no more than let the crimson liquid trickle down her throat. Her first gulp caused her to cough and some of the blood spewed from her mouth. He sat her up, though she was practically lifeless in his arms. Her head fell back on her shoulders and he continued to feed her. Not knowing whether it was too late.
She wasn’t responding, other than occasionally swallowing in a mechanical way, and choking in response. Fear seized his insides. Had he waited too long? Warred with his feelings when he should have pushed aside his own torment and done everything in his power to save her?
“Bev.” He couldn’t remember exactly how it felt to go through the change. It had been so long ago. And he’d been dying like this too, the victim of a werewolf attack, when a vampire picked up his scent. There hadn’t been enough blood left in his body to satiate the demon so Cane had been offered salvation instead of death. Immortality. He’d taken it, nothing more than ego driving him. He couldn’t fathom losing all he’d built back in London. Hadn’t been ready for death, so he’d chosen this life.
It really wasn’t a choice for Bev. He didn’t want to let her go. Plain and simple.
When her body started to convulse in his arms, he felt relief and guilt battle it out in his gut. The virus was spreading through her body. Her mortal self was adjusting to the immortality that would be restored to her. He held her tightly as she shook violently. Fever took hold of her and beads of perspiration popped out along her hairline and upper lip. Her lids were still clamped closed, but he could see her eyes jump and roll behind the thin skin.
Cane wiped the blood from her mouth. Her breathing picked up, erratic, but that was a hell of a lot better than the wispy, wheezing sound from moments ago.
“I’m here,” he said, careful how he handled her. She was like an epileptic and he didn’t want to inadvertently hurt her. Nor could he leave her to go through the change alone. “You have a good soul, Bevelyn,” he told her. It had to survive this villainous act. “You’re warm and passionate and loving.”
A strangled cry fell from her lips. She tried to speak but no words formed.
“Don’t say anything. Don’t fight it. Just let the change happen. It’ll be days. You’ll wish I let you die. But when it’s all over…” He glanced about the room.
Days. Yes, he remembered how long it took. And since he refused to leave her, he’d have to get her out of here. Out of this light and fresh air she loved so much, both of which would flood the room as soon as the sun rose.
Sooner rather than later, he had to get her someplace safe. Before the change in her genetic composition made her body quake even more. And caused the screaming. He suddenly remembered that part. He hadn’t witnessed Amy’s change, but he recalled now the echoing of his own voice in his ears as the pain had tore through him.