As though he'd simply vanished from where he'd been standing before and materialized in the doorway she needed to get through now.
With a yelp of alarm, Tess made a quick pivot and launched herself into the reception area. She grabbed the desk phone and punched one of the speed-dial numbers.
"This is not happening. This is not happening," she whispered under her breath, repeating the mantra as if she could make it all go away if she hoped for it hard enough.
The call began to ring on the other end.
Come on, come on, answer.
"Put the phone down, female."
Tess whirled around, shaking with fear. Her attacker moved slowly, with the deliberate grace of a skilled predator. He came closer. Bared his teeth in a harsh smile.
"Please. Put it down. Now."
Tess shook her head. "Go to hell!"
The receiver flew out of her grasp of its own free will. As it clattered onto the desk beside her, Tess heard Ben's voice come on the line. "Tess? Hello... that you, babe? Jesus, it's after three o'clock in the morning. What are you still doing at the--" There was a loud snap behind her, like the telephone wire had been yanked from the wall jack by invisible hands. Tess jumped at the noise, fear coiling in her stomach in the silence that followed.
"We have a serious problem. Tess."
Oh, God.
Now he was pissed off, and he knew her name.
In the back of her mind, Tess registered the fact that aside from her attacker's impossible state of consciousness, he had also experienced a miraculous recovery of his injuries. Beneath the grime and smudged ash that marred his skin, all of his sundry scrapes and lacerations were healed. His black fatigues were still torn and bloodstained from the wound in his leg, but he wasn't bleeding anymore. Not from the likely gunshot wound in his abdomen either. Through the shredded fabric of his black shirt, Tess saw only smooth, bunching muscle and flawless olive skin.
Was this whole thing some kind of sick Halloween joke?
She didn't think so, and she knew better than to let her guard down with this guy for so much as a second.
"My boyfriend knows I'm here. He's probably already on his way. He might even have called the cops--"
"You have a mark on your hand."
"W-what?"
His voice had sounded accusatory, and now he pointed to her, indicating her right hand, which was trembling up near her throat.
"You're a Breedmate. As of tonight, you are mine."
His lip curled at the corner as he said it, like he found the words not at all to his taste. Tess didn't particularly like the sound of them either. She backed up several paces, feeling the blood rush out of her head as he tracked her every move.
"Look, I don't know what's going on here. I don't know what happened to you tonight, or how you ended up in my clinic. I sure don't know how it is that you could be standing in front of me right now, after I gave you enough tranq to knock ten men cold--">It's okay. Don't be afraid.
You are safe. I promise.
He sent the reassurances into her mind, even as he held her tighter, brought her more firmly into the cage of his arms, his mouth still drawing hard from the wound at her throat. Despite the ferocity of his thirst, a need amplified by the severity of his injuries, Dante's word was good. Beyond the bite that startled her, he would not harm the female.
I'll take only what I need. Then I'll be gone, and you will forget all about me.
Already his strength was returning. Torn flesh was mending from the inside out. Bullet and shrapnel wounds were healing over.
Burns cooling.
Pain fading.
He eased up on the female, willing himself to slow, even though the taste of her was beyond enticing. He'd registered the exotic note of her blood scent on his first draw, but now that his body was rejuvenating, his senses coming back online fully, Dante couldn't help but savor the sweetness of his unwilling Host.