“Are you through being pissed off?” she asked, her brows pinched in a tight frown as she pressed her sword into the floor, using it like a cane. No one abused a well-crafted weapon in such a manner. A hunter’s sword was often passed down through the generations, a special weapon that could dispatch a vampire in a permanent way.
She swayed a little and he looked down at her strappy sandals.
His gaze met hers again. “No.”
“Fine. Whatever. I need your help.” Her words were breathy now.
He wanted to tell her to find some hunter to help her, but he kept his comments to himself, studying her, trying to determine what was going on with her.
Her eyes gazed into his and though he saw anger, he also saw the same kind of vulnerability as before and a tiredness he hadn’t noticed during their first encounter. She didn’t look well.
“What’s the problem?” He poured her a drink, then offered it to her.
She leaned against the arm of one of the sofas. “My car…I—I thought I hit something on the road.”
His brows lifted and his gaze raked over her appearance again. She didn’t seem to have suffered any injuries in a car wreck, but her dress looked a little dusty.
“Where’s your car?”
She took a weary breath, then drank a goodly sum of the wine. “A couple of miles back that way.” She motioned with her free hand, which seemed to throw her off balance, and she wobbled backward a little.
He frowned at her unsteadiness. Was she not used to drinking? She hadn’t been able to drink the one Basil had tried to serve her.
“You walked.” He glanced down at her sandals again and couldn’t imagine limping for miles in those things.
In an unlady-like manner, she collapsed on the nearest sofa as if finally realizing how much her feet hurt, spilled some of the remaining wine on her dress, and he swore under his breath.
He went to the bar and jerked off a handful of paper towels. Returning to her, he handed her the towels. She held them limply at her dress, not blotting where the wine had spilled, just sitting there, staring at his waist as if she couldn’t lift her head to even look up at him any longer.
“So, you said you thought you hit something. But you didn’t? Why did you abandon your car?” The woman wasn’t making any sense, and he needed to get her out of here pronto.
“I—I need your help.” The glass slipped out of her hand and fell on the carpeted floor, spilling the wine all over it. The sword fell from her other hand. Her eyes slammed shut, her head rolled back, and she collapsed against the seat back of the sofa.
What the hell? He quickly leaned over and felt the pulse at her neck and found her pulse shallow and uneven. He withdrew his fingers. Sticky warm blood coated them, and he smelled the sweet iron that called to him. “Hell and damnation.”
Sweeping her hair aside, he found the telltale bites of a vampire. But the attack had been sadistic. Bruises covered the area, and the bites were jagged, not neatly confined as they would be if a vampire had fed and pleasured a host. He hadn’t even sealed the wounds, and she was still bleeding freely.
As much as he hated the notion of tasting the huntress’s blood, he leaned over and licked the wounds, sealing them, memorizing her sweet blood, wanting more.
“Damnation! Basil!” he yelled out.
Though he’d only called for Basil since the club was his, all three of his friends rushed into the lounge. He assumed they’d been listening at the door as quickly as they entered the room.
“What the hell,” Colt said, his steely gaze giving Atreides the evil eye.
“Someone bit her. She abandoned her car on the road in a southwesterly direction and walked all the way here. She didn’t manage to explain what had happened before she passed out.”
“She needs blood.” Basil smelled the scent of her blood in the air. “I’ve got B-positive in the fridge.” He vanished.
“I’ll search for her car,” Colt said, his teeth clenched, and Atreides knew he was trying to keep his fangs in check, her blood calling to him, like it was to each of the vampires in the room.
Atreides turned to Renault. “Go together. I wager the huntress wouldn’t have permitted a vampire to feast on her. He has to be a rogue. She said she thought she had hit something. She must have left her car. But she didn’t say why she had walked here. I want the two of you to go together.”
“Gotcha,” Colt said. “Come on, Renault. Let’s find the little lady’s car.”
Renault eyed the huntress. “I’d rather watch over the lady.” He smiled casually, then he caught Atreides’s glare and bit back a dark chuckle.
Once Renault and Colt disappeared, Atreides pulled off Selena’s high heels, then rested her legs on the couch. Small feet, shapely legs.
Grasping her wrist, he felt the feather-light pulse. All they needed now was some damned rogue vampire attacking huntresses. And for the huntress to die in the vampire club.
When Basil returned with a bag of blood, he said, “She’ll need an I.V. I’ve sent one of my girls to the nearest hospital for one. But it will take a while. Are you sure you don’t want to take her to a hunters’ clinic?”
“And have the League come down on all of us, trying to determine which one of us did this to her? You’ll know they’ll question every one of your patrons.”
Basil rubbed his chin and nodded. “All right. I’ll ask around to see if anyone had left the club who might have had the opportunity to attack the woman while we were here discussing plans. Don’t let her die in the meantime. I wouldn’t want to have to close down my establishment on the account of a huntress’s death here.” Basil stalked out of the room.
After removing a plaid blanket from the arm of one of the other couches, Atreides covered the huntress. “Did you see the vampire who targeted you?” he asked, not expecting a reply. Her hands were ice cold, and he took them in his and attempted to warm them. “Why did you leave the car, Selena? You would have been safe inside your vehicle.”
Twilight poked her head inside. “The word’s out that she was bitten. Can I see her?”
“I don’t think she would appreciate being viewed as a curiosity,” Atreides said too harshly.
Twilight shrugged. “I saw the two of you dancing. It didn’t look to me like she was too uncomfortable being on show.”
The Goth was a strange woman, and there was no figuring her motives, but Atreides sensed she was more than just curious about the huntress.
Twilight moved into the room and crouched beside the huntress. “Some of the guys are saying she asked for it.”
His gut clenched. No woman deserved to be abused. “She was preyed upon.”
The slight woman nodded. “I didn’t say I agreed. It’s just what I heard. And some of them, well those who were speaking out because I can’t hear their telepathic conversations, said you were more than intrigued by the huntress.”
“Don’t you have someone to dance with?”
“The music has stopped.”
Atreides turned and listened. All he could hear were people talking.
“Basil’s questioning everyone concerning who left the club about the time the huntress was gone. No more dancing tonight.”