Dead Perfect

“Yes,” she said, baring her fangs. “And so am I.”

Hewitt’s face paled. And then he lashed out at her.

Shannah laughed as he struggled in vain to free himself from her hold. And then she caught his gaze with hers.

“Stop fighting me,” she commanded, somewhat surprised when his arms fell limply to his sides.

“Stay there.”

Letting him go, she dropped down beside Ronan. “Are you all right?”

“Pull it out,” he said, his voice raw and edged with pain.

“Out?” Revulsion made her stomach clench when she looked at the stake protruding from his back.

“Pull it out or push it through,” he said, panting. “Just get the damn thing out of me!”

Grasping the stake firmly in one hand, she pulled it from his back. A torrent of dark red blood flowed from the nasty wound. The scent of it filled the air.

Unable to help herself, Shannah licked her lips. So much blood. How could he survive after losing so much? Ripping a strip of cloth from his shirt tail, she stuffed it into the wound to stop the bleeding.

“Ronan? Are you all right?”

Grunting softly, he dropped into a sitting position.

“Your poor face,” Shannah said. She started to stroke his cheek, then drew her hand away, afraid her touch would only make it hurt worse. “And your neck. Does it hurt dreadfully?”

“Like sin.” His gaze moved over her. “Looks like he got you, too.”

She lifted a hand to her cheek, flinched when she touched the place where the holy water had splashed her skin. She had only been sprayed by a drop or two but it stung like the devil. She couldn’t imagine the pain Ronan must be in.

“Are you going to be all right?” she asked.

He nodded. “The burns will heal, in time.”

“But…your back.”

“He missed my heart. The wound’s already healing. Bring him to me.”

“You’re not…are you going to…?”

Ronan looked over to where Hewitt stood, held fast by Shannah’s will. “Kill him? I haven’t decided.”

“I guess I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

Rising, Shannah grabbed Hewitt by the arm. Dragging him toward Ronan, she ordered him to sit down.

“Release him from your spell,” Ronan said. “I want him to know what’s happening.”

Shannah did as bidden, then stood back, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she waited to see what Ronan intended to do with the man who had tried to kill him.

Hewitt’s face went deathly pale when he roused and saw himself looking into the vampire’s blood-red eyes.

Ronan drew back his lips, exposing his fangs. “I warned you,” he said. “You should have listened.”

Hewitt swallowed hard.

Shannah shook off a rush of pity for the man as Ronan pulled him closer. Whatever happened to Jim Hewitt, it was his own fault.

The stink of Hewitt’s fear stung her nostrils. His terror was a palpable thing as he struggled helplessly in Ronan’s grasp.

Her mouth watered as Ronan sank his fangs into the vampire hunter’s throat.

Knowing it would help to ease the pain of his wounds and speed his recovery, Shannah had expected Ronan to drink deeply, but he continued to drink long after she expected him to stop.

He drank until Hewitt’s heartbeat fluttered faintly, and then he drank some more.

“Ronan…”

He lifted his gaze to hers, his eyes red.

She feared he was going to kill the man. She couldn’t find it in her heart to fault his decision, and yet…it seemed wrong somehow.

When Ronan lifted his head, Hewitt lay white-faced and limp in his grasp.

She looked at her husband and knew he was going to drain Jim Hewitt dry.

And then Ronan spoke.

“Hewitt! Listen to me. You have only a few minutes to make up your mind. Do you want to live or die?”

Hewitt’s eyelids fluttered open, his gaze unfocused, and then he stared into Ronan’s face. He didn’t speak, but it was evident from his expression that he knew what the vampire was asking.

Shannah glanced from one man to the other. What would Hewitt decide? Would he choose death? Or would he choose to become what he hated? What he had spent his life hunting?

Though it seemed impossible, Hewitt seemed to grow paler, weaker. Had he chosen death?

She looked at Ronan. He was all vampire now. His fangs gleamed whitely in the light of the moon. His eyes glowed with a pure red flame. She saw death in those eyes, a burning desire to destroy the mortal who had attacked him viciously and without provocation.

“Your time is running out,” Ronan said curtly. “Make your choice!”

“Live.” The word seemed torn from the very depths of Hewitt’s soul. “I want…to live.”

With a feral cry, Ronan bit into his own wrist. “Then drink,” he said, and his voice was like sandpaper over steel.

Hewitt grimaced as blood dripped from Ronan’s wrist into his mouth. He choked down the first taste and then he clutched the vampire’s arm in both hands.

“Damn you!” Hewitt said hoarsely, and then he pulled Ronan’s wrist to his mouth and took his first step into another life.

Preternatural power stirred on the wings of the night.

Shannah watched in mingled horror and fascination as the color returned to Hewitt’s face. His breathing returned to normal, his heartbeat grew stronger.

Moment’s later, Ronan jerked his arm from Hewitt’s grasp. “Enough!”

Sitting up, Hewitt dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. He stared at the crimson stain on his hand as if he had never seen blood before, and then he looked at Ronan. “Now what?”

Ronan licked the wound in his wrist, sealing it, and then gained his feet. “Tonight you’ll die…”

“What?” Hewitt scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with panic. “I thought that you…”

Ronan silenced him with a look. “When you wake tomorrow night, you’ll be one of us.”

Unlocking the front door, Ronan swung Shannah into his arms and carried her inside. “Enjoy your new life, vampire,” he told Hewitt, and slammed the door.

Chapter Thirty-Four

“That was cruel,” Shannah said. “To bring him across and then leave him without telling him what to do, what to expect.”

They were sitting in the living room in front of a roaring fire. Earlier, they had carried their luggage and the useless wedding presents inside. The gifts were now housed in one of the upstairs bedrooms.