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.
Using the dagger next to him on the nightstand, Dante scored a fresh line on his wrist. He pressed the bleeding cut to Tess's lips, waiting to feel her respond, wanting to curse to the rafters when her mouth remained unmoving, his blood dripping down, useless, onto her chin.
"Come on, angel. Drink for me." He stroked her cool cheek, brushed a tangle of her honey-blond hair from her forehead. "Please live, Tess... drink, and live."
A throat cleared awkwardly from the area near the bedroom doorjamb. "I'm sorry, the uh... the door was open."
Chase. Just fucking great. Dante couldn't think of anyone he'd like to see less right now. He was too entrenched in what he was doing--in what he was feeling--to deal with another interruption, particularly one coming from the Darkhaven agent. He'd hoped the bastard was already long gone from the compound, back to where he came from--preferably with one of Lucan's size-fourteens planted all the way up his ass. Then again, maybe Lucan was saving the privilege for Dante instead.
"Get out," he growled.
"Is she drinking at all?"
Dante scoffed, low under his breath. "What part of `get out' did you fail to understand, Harvard? I don't need an audience right now, and I sure as hell don't need any more of your bullshit."
He pressed his wrist to Tess's lips again, parting them with the fingers of his free hand in the hopes that she might take some of his blood by mild force. It wasn't happening. Dante's eyes stung as he stared down at her. He felt wetness streaking his cheeks. Tasted the salt of tears gathering at the corner of his mouth.
"Shit," he muttered, wiping his face into his shoulder in a strange mix of confusion and despair.
He heard footsteps coming up near the bed. Felt the air around him stir as Chase reached out his hand. "It might work better if you tilt her head, like th--"
"Don't... touch her." The words came out in a voice Dante hardly recognized as his own, it was so full of venom and deadly warning. He swiveled his head around and met the agent's eyes, his vision burning and sharp, his fangs having stretched long in an instant.
The protective urge boiling through him was fierce, utterly lethal, and Chase evidently understood at once. He backed off, hands raised in front of him. "I'm sorry. I meant no harm. I only wanted to help, Dante. And to apologize."
"Don't bother." He turned back to Tess, miserable with worry and craving solitude. "I don't need anything from you, Harvard. Except your absence."
A long silence answered, and for a moment Dante wondered if the agent had actually slunk away as he hoped. No such luck.
"I understand how you feel, Dante."
"Do you." "I think so, yes. Now I think I understand a lot of things that I didn't before."
"Well, good for you. Fucking brilliant of you, former Agent Chase. Write it up in one of your pointless reports and maybe your buddies in the Darkhavens will pin a goddamn medal of commendation on you. Harvard finally clues in on something."
The vampire chuckled wryly, without rancor. "I've fucked up, I know. I've lied to you and to the others, and I've jeopardized this mission because of personal, selfish motives. It was wrong, what I did. And I want you to know--especially you, Dante--that I'm sorry."
Dante's pulse was hammering with fury, and with fear for Tess's condition as well, but he did not lash out at Chase as impulse made him want to do. He heard the contrition in the male's voice. And he heard humility, something generally on short order with Dante himself. Until now. Until Tess.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Honestly? Because I see how much you care about this woman. You care, and you're scared shitless about it. You're afraid you're going to lose her, and right now you'll do anything to hold on to her."
"I'd kill for her," Dante said quietly. "I would die for her."
"Yes. I know you would. Maybe you can see how easy it would be to lie, cheat, or even give up your life's purpose to help her--to do anything, risk anything, if it would mean protecting her from any more hurt."
Frowning with new comprehension and suddenly unable to despise the agent any longer, Dante turned to look at Chase. "You said you had no female in your life, no family or obligations beyond your brother' s widow... "
Chase smiled vaguely. Etched in misery and longing, the vampire's face said it all. "Her name is Elise. She was there tonight, when you and Tegan came to pick me up at my home."
He should have known. He did know, on some level, Dante acknowledged now. Chase's reaction when the woman came outside had been virulent, unhinged. It was only when he saw her potentially in harm's way that he lost his usual cool. He'd looked like he'd wanted to tear Tegan's head off for touching the female, a possessiveness that went beyond simple defense of one's kin.
And by the look on Chase's face, he was alone in his affection.
"Anyway," the agent said abruptly. "I just... wanted you to know that I'm sorry for everything. I want to help you and the rest of the Order in any way I can, so if there is anything you need, you know where I am."
"Chase," Dante said as the male turned to leave the room. "Apology accepted, man. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry too. I haven't been fair to you either. Despite our differences, know that I respect you. The Agency lost a good one the day they cut you loose."