"No." Dante's reply was sharper than intended, and unyielding. He held out his scored wrist, the skin still red and wet at the place he'd fed her. "She is mine. She stays with me."
Gideon's eyes widened, but he said nothing more. Nor did anyone else, as Dante brushed past the group of warriors and headed with Tess down the maze of hallways to his private quarters. Once inside, he brought her into the bedroom and gently placed her on the king-size bed. He kept the lights dim, his voice soft and low, as he set about trying to make her comfortable.
With a mental command, he willed the bathroom sink on, running warm water into the basin as he carefully removed the makeshift bandages that covered Tess's wrist and neck. She had stopped bleeding, thankfully. Her wounds were raw and hideous on her flawless skin, but the worst of the injuries was past.
Seeing the ugly marks left by the Rogues who attacked her, Dante wished he had Tess's healing touch. He wanted to erase the injuries before she had a chance to see them, but he couldn't work that kind of miracle. His blood would heal her from within, replenish her body and give her a preternatural vitality she' d never known. Over time, if she fed from him regularly as his mate, her health would be ageless. In time the scars would mend too. Not soon enough for him. He wanted to tear her attackers apart all over again, torture them slowly instead of delivering the efficient death the Rogues had received.
The need for violence, for vengeance against every Rogue who could ever harm her, seethed through him like acid. Dante tamped the urge down, throwing all of his energy into tending Tess with reverent, gentle hands. He eased her out of her bloodstained jacket, peeling off the sleeves and then lifting her slack body to free her of it. The pullover sweater she wore beneath was ruined as well, the celery-colored wool soaked a garish red around the neck and the edge of the long sleeve.
He would have to cut the sweater off; no way he was going to try to pull it over her head and disturb the nasty bite wound at her throat. Retrieving one of the daggers sheathed at his hip, he slid the blade under the hem and ripped a clean line up the center of the garment. The soft wool fell away, exposing Tess's creamy torso and the peach-hued lace of her bra.
A sexual stirring roused within him, as automatic as breathing, as he looked down on the perfection of her skin, the sweetly feminine curves of her body. Seeing her always brought out his hunger, but seeing her marked by rough Rogue hands put a steadying calm in him that trumped even the strength of his base desire to possess her.
She was safe now, and that was all he needed.
Dante set the blade down on the nightstand, then removed Tess's ruined sweater and dropped it next to the jacket beside the bed. The room was warm, but her skin was still cool to the touch. Pulling the edge of the black silk comforter from the other side of his large bed, he covered her, then went into the bathroom to get a soapy washcloth and a fresh towel to clean her up. As he came back out to the bedroom, he heard a quiet rap on the open door of his quarters, too soft to belong to any of the warriors.
"Dante?" Savannah's velvety voice was even softer than her knock. She came in carrying a handful of ointments and medicines, her dark, gentle eyes filled with sympathy. Lucan's mate, Gabrielle, was with her, the auburn-haired Breedmate holding a plush robe over her arm. "We heard what happened and thought we'd bring a few things to help make her more comfortable."
"Thank you."
He watched idly from the bedside as the other women approached to set down their items. His main focus was on Tess. He lifted her hand and carefully swept the edge of the warm washcloth over the crusted blood on her wrist, his strokes as light as he could manage with his large clumsy hands that were better suited to holding firearms or steel.
"Is she all right?" Gabrielle asked from behind him. "Lucan said you put her to your vein to save her."
Dante nodded, but he felt no pride over what he'd done. "She'll hate me for it when she understands what it means. She doesn't know that she's a Breedmate. She doesn't know... what I am."
He was stunned to feel a small hand light reassuringly on his shoulder. "Then you should tell her, Dante. Don't put it off. Trust her enough that she will make sense of the truth, even if she is resistant to accept it at first."
"Yes," he said, "I know she deserves the truth."
He was gratified by Gabrielle's sympathetic gesture and by the soundness of her advice. She spoke from experience, after all. The female had been through her own astonishing truth with Lucan just a few months earlier. Although the pair were inseparable ever since and clearly in love, Lucan and Gabrielle's journey had been anything but smooth. None of the warriors knew the specifics, but Dante could guess that Lucan and his stony, remote nature hadn't made it easy for either of them.
Savannah stepped up next to him at the bed now. "After you clean her wounds, put some of this ointment on them. Along with your blood in her system, the medicine will help speed the healing and lessen her scars."
"Okay." Dante took the jar of homemade remedy and set it down on the nightstand. "Thank you. Both of you."
The women gave him understanding smiles, then Savannah bent to pick up Tess's soiled jacket and sweater.
"I don't think these will be of any use to her now." The instant her fingers closed around the clothing, her smooth features pinched. She closed her eyes, wincing. Her breath caught, then leaked out of her in a shaky sigh. "My Lord, the poor thing. The attack on her was so... savage. Did you know they nearly bled her dry?"
Dante inclined his head. "I know."
"She was almost gone by the time that you--Well, you saved her, and that's what matters," Savannah said, adopting a serene tone that didn't quite mask the discomfort she was feeling after reading the terrible details of Tess's attack. "If you need anything at all, Dante, just ask. Gabrielle and I will do whatever we can to help."
He nodded, already going back to work on Tess's wounds with the damp cloth. He heard the women leave, and the space around him went still with the weight of his thoughts. He didn't know how long he remained at Tess's side--easily hours. He cleaned her up and toweled her off, then climbed in bed next to her and stretched out against her, just watching her sleep and praying that she would open her beautiful eyes for him again soon.
A hundred thoughts went through his mind as he lay there, a hundred promises he wanted to make to her. He wanted her to be safe always, to be happy. He wanted her to live forever. With him, if she'd have him; without, if that was the only other way. He would look after her as long as he was able, and if --more likely when--the death that stalked him finally caught up to him, he would have already seen to it that there would always be a place for Tess among the Breed.
God, was he actually thinking about the future?
Planning for it?
It seemed so strange that, after spending his entire life living like there was no tomorrow, convinced that at any second there would be no tomorrow, all it took was one woman to throw all of that fatalistic thinking right over a cliff. He still believed death was around the corner--he knew it with the same clarity that his mother knew her own death and that of her mate--but one extraordinary woman had made him hope like hell that he was wrong.
Tess made him wish that he had all the time in the world, so long as he could spend every second of it with her.
She had to wake up soon. She had to get better, because he had to make things right with her. She had to know how he felt, what she meant to him--and what he'd done to her, by binding them together in blood. How long should it take for his blood to absorb into her body and begin its rejuvenation? How much would she need? She had taken only the smallest amount in the ride to the compound, just the few scant drops he could work into her mouth and down her slack throat. Maybe she needed more.