Kindling Flames—Gathering Tinder (9 page)

Rupert had done a fine job of crushing her trachea. Darien knelt next to Vicky and placed his right hand over the damaged area. Using his left hand, he pinched off her nose and tilted her head back slightly, so he could press his mouth firmly over hers. He blew gently into her mouth, trying to push some air into her lungs. As he did so, Darien released a tendril of power into the damaged area and forced the crushed windpipe back to its original shape. Tasting the blood bubbling up from her injury, he suppressed the shiver of excitement that always came with the taking of blood from a living being.

Once she could breathe again, Darien pulled away from her mouth, pushed back his vampiric nature, and centered himself so that he could complete the healing she still needed.

Now calmer, he drew another deep breath and sealed his lips to hers once more. The rich taste of her fresh blood was hard to ignore, but he forced back the cravings and concentrated on rebuilding the injured tissue.

When the majority of the work was done, Darien pulled back from the life-giving kiss and sat back on the carpet to collect himself. He pushed up from the floor and turned his attention to the man watching from the other side of the room.

“What do you want, wolf?” Darien snarled with fangs in full view.

Rupert’s eyes widened at the response from the normally calm vampire. He had seen Darien heal many times, but he had never seen this reaction before.

“Are you okay?” Rupert asked.

“Not really. Crushed throats lead to blood in the mouth. Very bad for one’s control.” Darien walked farther away from the source of his issues, yanked opened the window, and stuck his head out. He could still smell the fresh blood from his assistant.

“Sorry about that. I’ve just had a lot on my mind recently.” Rupert rubbed the back of his neck and looked a little remorseful. He glanced back to the young woman resting on the couch. “I’d forgotten how fragile humans can be.” He turned his attention back to Darien leaning out the window, drawing in the clean air. “I didn’t think you all needed to breathe,” the werewolf commented.

“We don’t breathe when we sleep, bloody madra,” he scolded him.

Rupert could see that Darien was regaining control. When the vampire turned around, his fangs were gone.

Darien leaned against the open windowsill with his arms crossed over his chest. “Now, what do you mean by coming here during business hours and accosting my employees?”

Rupert turned serious. “Have you heard about the recent murders?”

“The ones the reporters have dubbed the ‘Southside Slaughters’?” Darien asked.

Rupert nodded.

“I’ve been following them in the papers. What about them?”

“There was another fire last night.”

Darien shrugged at this information. “So?”

“The shredded victims were all my wolves,” Rupert said grimly. He was the local pack alpha, and, although he was a rough man, he cared dearly for all the people in his pack.

Darien uncrossed his arms and stared at Rupert in shock. He had assumed that the torn up bodies had something to do with a rampant werewolf. Such things normally were, but for something to have torn up werewolves without being seen or heard by anyone was insane. “If these murders weren’t caused by your kind, what did it?”

Rupert shrugged. “I was hoping you could help us find out,” the alpha wolf explained. “There’ve been other strange happenings in the south side before the fires started, and we had been trying to track down the cause of the trouble. So far, we’ve been unsuccessful. I was hoping the Vampire Council would be able to help.”

Darien looked at him, astonished. It had been a long time since the werewolves and vampires had gotten together to deal with anything. The last time had ended badly, and the two groups usually avoided each other like the plague. “You, of all people, should know there are difficulties between the vampires and the wolves,” Darien pointed out.

Rupert nodded. “That’s why I’m coming to you. You’re the only one in town on neutral ground with both groups. Please, Master Darien,” Rupert begged, “we can’t handle this by ourselves.”

Darien sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the headache that he knew this would cause. How could he refuse a begging pack alpha? “All right,” he relented, “but you owe me twice for this. Once for dealing with the Vampire Council and once for injuring my people. And, I expect you and yours to be nice to Miss Westernly in the future. She works too hard to be treated with such disrespect.”

“You have my word.” Rupert bowed deeply, accepting the demand of two boons. He would have given much more to ensure the safety of his pack. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go visit my sister before leaving.”

Darien waved him off with a growled warning not to disturb anyone else on his way out.

Rupert agreed, chuckling as he exited the office.

Darien looked over at the sleeping form of his assistant. He was going to have to get something to quiet his hunger before he really did sink his fangs into that undefended neck of hers.

***

Vicky tried to breathe deeply as she woke, but coughed when the air caught in a sore place in her throat. She let out a pained noise as she raised her hand to her neck and touched it gently. Her eyes opened to reveal an unfamiliar ceiling. Rolling her head over to look at the room around her, she was shocked to find she was lying down on the couch in Darien’s office. Someone had placed a woven blanket across her to keep her warm.

Pulling herself into a sitting position, Vicky puzzled over how she got into this predicament. She could just remember the violent man lifting her against the door, but everything after that was missing. Vicky could see her boss working on some project at his desk. When she tried to stand up, her head spun violently, and she sat back down.

“Careful there.” Darien got up from his work and sat on the edge of the couch next to where Vicky was hunched over. He pulled her up, so he could look in her eyes to make sure she would be okay. “You’ve had a nasty shock.”

She moved limply under his gentle hands. “Is he gone?” Vicky croaked hoarsely. She swallowed, trying to soothe her sore throat.

Concern crossed Darien’s face at how crackly her voice was. He was worried he had missed something important when he reconstructed her windpipe. “He’s left and won’t bother you again,” Darien reassured her. “Let me have a look at your throat.”

Vicky nodded lightly and tilted her head back, exposing the injury.

Placing his right hand behind her head to support her, he wrapped his left across the bruised skin of her neck, and pushed a bare hint of power into the damaged area, searching for the problem. Finding a split in the cartilage around her vocal cords, he snapped it back into place where it belonged. He could have healed her completely, but that would lead to some very hard questions that he didn’t want to answer.

Vicky was in too much pain to disagree with her boss’s invasion of her personal space. His hands felt good on the soreness of her neck. They were unusually warm, and the heat penetrated deep into her throat, soothing the hurt. She closed her eyes and relaxed as she let him feel her throat. A quick, sharp pain brought a cry from her lips, and she nearly passed out from the intensity of it. The only things that had kept her from collapsing to the cushions were the hands on her neck. Vicky panted as black spots danced behind her eyes. She felt Darien shift her so that she was lying down on the couch again.

“Rest here for a little longer,” he said softly.

Vicky nodded without opening her eyes. She didn’t feel as if she could get up at the moment, anyway.

He fluffed the blanket back over her and went to find her something to drink. Even though he had sped the healing process along, Vicky would need rest to allow the tissue to knit properly.

***

Vicky woke up to the more familiar ceiling of Darien’s office. Her throat felt better, so she sat up slowly and looked around the dimly lit room.

Darien was using the light on the corner of his desk to fend off the growing darkness as he read through the thick stack of paperwork in his hands. He folded the papers back into a file and placed it lightly on his desk before coming to check on her. Vicky watched him approach.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Vicky cleared her throat lightly and smiled weakly. “Better,” she whispered. The crackle was gone from her voice, but it was still tender to talk.

Darien nodded his approval and held out his hand so Vicky could use it to stand. “It’s getting late. Let me take you home. You should be fine by morning,” he reassured her.

“I’m sorry,” Vicky whispered as she took hold of his hand and rose from the couch. She felt bad that she had slept for most of the day.

“Don’t be.” He patted her on the shoulder as they headed towards the door. “It’s not your fault. You did a good job today.”

Vicky looked at him skeptically and shook her head as she headed to her desk. Saving her work, she cleared away her project before picking up her bag, so Darien could take her home.

Holding the door for her, he let her lead the way.

Vicky was still unsure how to feel about the events of the day as she settled into the passenger seat of the familiar Aston Martin. She closed her eyes and thought about the man who had strangled her and the last thought that passed through her mind as she black out. A joyless laugh slipped from her.

“What’s funny?” Darien asked, trying to coax Vicky’s thoughts from her.

“Ironic more than funny.”

He cocked an eyebrow, and Vicky continued.

“I was sure I was going to die when that guy had me pressed against the door, but it didn’t happen.” The day had been too surreal to scare her at the moment.

Darien was surprised at how well she was taking the near-death experience. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell her how close she had actually come to dying. “What didn’t happen?” he prodded.

She shrugged. “That whole ‘life flashing before your eyes’ thing. It didn’t happen. No thoughts of my family or friends. Nothing about my past. The only thought that hit me was of the pile of folders sitting next to my desk, and how I wouldn’t get the chance to enter them into the spreadsheets.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about it now.” Darien shot her a smile as he pulled out into the evening traffic. “You’re fine, and you’ll get the chance to get back to those files tomorrow.”

Vicky let out a heavy sigh that made Darien chuckle. Turning her attention away from her boss, she stared out the window. The world slipped past, unseen, as her fingers found their way to the tender area of her neck. The sound of the cartilage in her throat giving way under the pressure of the man’s hand had terrified her. She had been sure she was going to die, but here she sat with only a sore throat. How she had managed to escape her doom was beyond her, but she was sure it had something to do with the man driving her home. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a good way to ask him. Nothing short of extensive surgery could fix a crushed trachea, and that obviously wasn’t the case here. Maybe the terror and pain had made her think there was more injury than there really was. Vicky nodded her head as she settled on this explanation of the day’s events. She had just passed out from lack of oxygen, and her mind had exaggerated the experience into something more serious than it was.

“Make sure you get something to eat before going to bed.”

Vicky was pulled from her thoughts by Darien’s words. She blinked for a moment until she realized they were sitting in front of her apartment building. “I will,” she promised as she clambered out of the car. Turning around, she bent over, so she could look at the man who had taken such good care of her. “Thank you.”

Darien smiled warmly at her. “You’re quite welcome, Miss Westernly. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Vicky closed the door and found her way into her apartment before Darien pulled back out onto the street. Dropping her bag in its customary spot on the couch, she kicked off her shoes and headed into the kitchen to drop a package of ramen noodles in a pot. If she overcooked them a little, they would be soft enough to get down without hurting her already-tender throat.

Darien studied the silken scarf wrapped around Vicky’s neck. It was soft and flowing, and it accented her outfit quite nicely, but that wasn’t the reason his assistant was wearing it. The scarf didn’t quite cover all the bruising, but it was just the right color to make one question if the purpling seen around the edges was on the skin or part of the scarf.