Her Devoted Vampire (2 page)

Clenching
her hands into fists, she whirled and slammed into the man with the black
trench coat. It was like hitting a wall, albeit a warm, delicious wall that
wrapped its arms around her to steady her.

“Oh, God. I’m sorry!”
 
She rebounded, wrenching out of his grasp. “I
didn’t see you.”

“So it seems.” His voice was a
rich rumble. “You left this on your table.” He held up her book.

She
didn’t even look at it, but into his dark eyes beneath the brim of his hat. The
odd recognition flared again, and she surrendered to the seductive pull of his
gaze, trying to find out why he seemed so familiar. Time froze. She had no idea
how long she stood there staring at him, but he never moved or questioned her scrutiny.

Chocolate brown; they’re chocolate brown
, she thought as she slowly came back to herself standing on a windy
Boston
street.
Staring like an idiot.

“Oh. Oh!
Yes, thank you. I was just going back for it.”

She
snatched the book from him more roughly than she intended, but covered her
embarrassment by stuffing it into her jacket pocket while she tried to find a
small measure of composure. He smelled like apple spice cake and vanilla, and she
desperately wanted to wrap herself up in his scents.

Desperate being the most important word.

“I’m
glad I could return it to you. It appeared to be a recent purchase.”

Bridget
jerked her head up in surprise. “How did you know that?”

Amusement
curled his lips into a sexy smile. “The price sticker is still on the front.”

“Oh, right.”
She grimaced with chagrin. “Of course.”
Dimbulb!
“Well, thanks again.”

Bridget retreated
from him despite her body and soul screaming to stay, to explore the
possibilities of color and excitement with this familiar stranger.

Familiar stranger? What’s wrong with me?

“Are you
walking at this late hour?” he called from behind her.

“Yes.
Thanks.” She offered no other explanation. It was none of this stranger’s
business why she wanted to walk home. Or had to. She forced her reluctant feet
to keep going.

“Perhaps
I should walk with you.” She looked up to find him right beside her. How the
hell had he done that? “It’s not safe to walk alone at night in a large city.”

She slowed
her steps and considered him, a little fear trickling into her awareness. Who
was this guy, and how did he move so fast or so quietly? She stopped at the
corner of an alley between two buildings. The darkness sent a warning
skittering up her spine, and she stepped back, trying to put a little distance
between them.

“You’re
absolutely right. In fact, why should I believe I’d be safe alone with you? You
might be one of the ones I should be protected from. Thanks, but no.”

He
laughed, and it wrapped around her like a warm scarf. “Certainly possible. You
got it in one. I’m actually a nefarious criminal seeking illicit contact with a
beautiful woman. Perhaps you’d let me hail you a cab.” He gestured toward the
street with one gloved hand.

When did he put on gloves?
“No, thanks. I’d prefer to walk.”

“I must
insist, miss. If it’s about money, I’d be happy to—”

She
rounded on him, her fear morphing into anger. “Please don’t patronize me. I
don’t need a
man
to take care of me
just because I’m female. I’m fully capable of getting home on my own, thank you
very much. I don’t need a cab.”

“Again,
I must insist. My name is Fredrick MacGregor, and upon my honor as a scholar
and a gentleman, I assure you, you will be safe.” He tipped his fedora to her
and burned her with a determined look. She half-expected him to click his heels
together.

Bridget
leveled a dubious glare at him, raising her eyebrow, but a little voice in the
back of her head said ignoring his warning might be like ignoring fleeing
animals and the glow of a forest fire while out hiking. Unease pattered through
her body, and the alley seemed to breathe a fetid breath.

“Fine.”
She could always get out somewhere other than her apartment building to throw
him off. “A gentleman and a scholar, eh? What do you study?”

“A
variety of things, the most recent being comparative anatomy.” Fredrick strode toward
the street to flag down a cab in the infrequent traffic.

“Human
anatomy?”
What was there to compare?

“I
compare human anatomy to that of other mammals.” The look he threw her over his
shoulder was smoldering. “Particularly the bones.”

“Bones?”
Bridget’s unease ramped up, and she shivered.

“You
like to read romance, I see. Missing some spark in your life?”

“Just
because I read romance doesn’t mean my life is missing anything.” She wished
her words didn’t sound so hollow. “Everyone likes a little fantasy. I just
happen to prefer romance over Star Wars.”

“No
offense meant, my dear. Merely a question.” He scanned the empty street.

“A
question full of implication.” Bridget tucked her hands under her armpits in
hopes of warming them.

His rich
laugh floated to her over the hiss
 
of a
passing car, warming her from the inside out. She hated to admit how much she
liked his laughter and tried to concentrate on something else, like the scents
of wet, greasy streets or damp icy wind. Somewhere a charity bell tinkled
incessantly in hopes of attracting donations from the shoppers beneath the
light-draped trees. The wind snuck between her neck and her scarf, and she
shivered as she turned her head away from the man trying to hail a cab.

Why was
he being so nice to her?

Bridget
opened her mouth to ask when her eyes caught movement in the dark alley. Something
about the furtive motions shot fear through her, and she froze like a deer in
headlights, her heartbeat increasing with each breath.

Fredrick
must have noticed her stillness because he stepped into her line of sight,
blocking the alley, and leaned forward to brush her ear with his mustache. The scent
of spiced apples enveloped her, and calm pushed through her fear, settling her
heart.

“Stay
here, and wait for me,” he whispered, then was gone.

The
hairs on the back of her neck stood up, but she didn’t know if it was from the
menace in his silent movement or the dominance in his voice. Either way, excitement
zinged through her, and she squeezed her arms tighter over her chest.

Fredrick
moved so fast she almost couldn’t track him. He shot away from her in
frightening silence and grabbed the first one. It took her a moment to realize
it was a man dressed mostly in dark clothing, but though he was larger than Fredrick,
he was lifted like a rag doll and flung against a car parked on the street. He
hit it hard enough to make her teeth jar, and he slid to the ground,
unconscious. By then, Fredrick had already dispatched another by grabbing his
collar and smacking his head against the alley wall with a heavy crunch. Bridget
found her breath billowing in silver clouds as exhilaration pumped through her
body. Fierce joy and an odd pride bubbled up, making her tremble. Fredrick had
been completely silent and those men huge, yet he defeated them easily.

He must have some sort of Special Forces training.

She
wanted to laugh in nervous delight to express her amazement and gratitude, but
someone grabbed her from behind and shoved something hard against her side as
one arm snaked around her throat. The stench of wet wool and stale beer
assaulted her nose.

“Fred—!”
Her scream cut off as the arm tightened.

“Quiet,
bitch.” The voice in her ear oozed malevolence. “You’re mine, and you better be
quiet, or you’ll be sorry.”

Icy terror
froze her body solid as despair cascaded through her mind.
Was this how her life would end, as a statistic on
the nightly news? Anger unfolded as she fought to breathe through the stench of
dirty, wet wool. Who the hell did this guy think he was? What had she done to
him? She’d been minding her own business, and this guy just thought he could
take what he wanted from her. Her fingers curled into claws, digging into the
arm around her neck.

“You
will let her go.”

Fredrick’s
voice drifted out of the darkness in front of them, and the arm around her
throat tightened with her assailant’s surprise. Bridget gasped for breath and
struggled to move his arm as something pushed deeper into her side, finally
causing pain. She moaned, and her anger shifted back toward fear.

Fredrick
materialized out of the darkness with the same predatory grace she’d seen in
the coffee shop, and her body froze in prey-awareness. He stalked toward them
with so much menace, she wondered if she would die right along with the jackass
holding her. She knew nothing about Fredrick MacGregor. He could be a sociopath
fighting this thug over his next victim.

Holy Mary Mother of God
,
she prayed, but couldn’t breathe. The blood was roaring in her ears, and little
fireflies of light appeared at the edges of her vision.s

“Let her
go, and I may let you live.” Fredrick’s voice was frightening, old as death and
cold as a grave in the wet earth.

“Fuck
off, asshole. Get your own bitch to screw.”

“She
is
mine, so I suggest you let her go,
and find someone else to trouble with your juvenile tendencies.”

Bridget
wanted to protest anyone’s ownership of her person, but pain and suffocation
overwhelmed everything else.

“Tell
you what.” Her assailant jerked her backwards and tightened his grip on her
throat. “I’ll take her first, and you can have her when I’m done.”

Fredrick
laughed, but the sound was eerie and hollow. “I’ll say it again, but this is
the last time, so listen closely. Let her go, and I may let you continue to
breathe. Harm her, and my decision will be made. The choice is yours.”

Bridget
knew there was no way Fredrick could move fast enough to counteract the knife
at her side, but she didn’t have the breath to tell him. The arm around her
throat tightened once more, and the blackness crowded the edges of her vision. She
had to stay upright. If she fainted while in this guy’s grip, she’d never
escape. She tried to struggle, but her body felt like lead weights had been
tied to her limbs.

“Suck my
dick, shithead!”

Fredrick
let out a hiss, and his eyes glowed red for a moment. Or maybe she was just
hallucinating from lack of oxygen. Then he leapt at them, and she lost track of
the sequence of events.

She
remembered the man behind her trying to yank her out of the way while thrusting
the knife deeply into her side, searing pain screaming across her awareness. She
remembered hitting the ground with Fredrick somewhere behind her when the thug let
go. She remembered Fredrick coming at her so fast he simply disappeared from
where he’d been standing. She remembered blackness swallowing her sight as her
air ran out. Then she remembered nothing but the sound of roaring blood.

Chapter Two

“Suck my
dick, shithead!”

Black
fury welled up inside Fredrick with the thought of this unwashed, ignorant thug
holding the woman who smelled like pine forests in the sun. He still didn’t know
her name, but she’d been the bright spot in the early evening hours since he
rose. He woke with her face in his thoughts and a feeling of danger surrounding
her. Now, danger had her by the throat, and his rage spread through his limbs,
fueling his hunger.

He
leaped at the man and saw the woman stiffen for a moment as the fool shoved a
weapon into her side, then yanked it backwards through her flesh. Oh, he would
pay for that! Fredrick grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her off the knife
while reaching for the man’s throat. She dropped bonelessly to the concrete as Fredrick
hauled the shouting man toward him, sinking his fangs into his neck.

The thug
gasped, and his body froze rigid as Fredrick sucked all that hot, sweet blood
out of his carotid artery. The man’s resistance waned as Fredrick dragged him down
the alley then snapped his neck, dropping the corpse into a handy dumpster. Fredrick
carefully wiped his mouth with his gloved hand and tore out of the alley to
gather the woman into his arms, hoping no one had noticed her lying on the
sidewalk. He didn’t think he could turn so many minds away from the incident.

Fortunately,
no one had come out of the coffee shop in the few moments of the attack, and he
was grateful the humans of
Boston
were too busy to see his woman bleeding to death.

My woman? Goddess, I hope so . . . if she survives.

A wide
black stain spread over the left side of her jacket, and he scented the blood
pumping out of her wound. He rolled her gently, snarling under his breath as he
scrutinized the damage. Her whole side had been torn from her hip almost to her
spine, the ragged flesh shifting with each breath. The sweet scent of her blood
called to him to feast, but the thug’s blood had sated his needs. He ignored
the temptation.