she could control him, after all? Maybe he only appeared when she was tired? Or distracted?
She opened the drawer under the counter to put her brush away and paused when she saw the small bottle rolling around inside. The pills the doctor had prescribed for her recuperation postcoma. She’d had nightmares, horrendous nightmares about the attack, and these pills were supposed to help her sleep. They had worked—sometimes. If they’d blocked her nightmares, they might be able to block these auditory hallucinations...
She shook two out of the bottle and took them with a glass of water, then brushed her teeth. By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, she was already feeling relaxed.
“Now can we talk?” Zane muttered.
She kept her eyes resolutely forward as she crossed to her bed and pulled back the bed covers. Ignore him.
“You can’t ignore me forever, princess,” Zane said as he stood at the end of her bed, frowning. Her eyelids flickered. Could he read her thoughts now?
She climbed into bed, her lips firmly pressed together to prevent any response to him.
“We need to figure out what’s going on here,” he stated.
She brushed her hair off her forehead and lay back. Just ignore him. Her eyelids began to droop, and he stalked around the bed to stand by her hip. He really was a gorgeous man, all beautiful muscles, tanned skin, and she thought the close-cropped beard was growing on her. It gave him a rough, dangerous look that was very attractive.
Her eyes widened, but only briefly. Wow, these tranqs were good. They had to be if she thought Zane Wilder was kind of sexy.
“Speak to me, damn it,” he demanded.
She smiled. He was cute when he was angry. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned down to look closely at her eyes, his gaze shifting from one to the other and back again.
“Damn it, you took a tranq, didn’t you?” His lips tightened, and although it took a great deal of effort, she raised her fingers to his lips to smooth them out again.
“Shh,” she said soothingly.
He swore under his breath, his hands momentarily clenching, and then that smoky, inky fog swirled around him, and he was gone.
Her eyelids drooped shut, and her mouth dipped at the corners, and she could barely retain her last thought.
Don’t go...
Zane sat in the wingback chair next to Vivianne’s bed, his feet on the covers, and he watched her sleep. He didn’t have anything else to do. Her chest rose rhythmically, her breathing deep and even. She looked like a dark angel, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her features so relaxed, so damn composed.
She’d donned a white nightgown, the satin and lace concoction contrasted against her olive complexion, making her skin look warm and silken in the dim light that filtered through a crack in her curtains. He swallowed. He always gave her privacy when she was in the bathroom, despite the impression he’d given her earlier, but he hadn’t expected her to take sleeping pills to avoid talking with him. That didn’t seem like Vivianne’s normal style. He’d seen her in action. She was direct, decisive, and hadn’t shied away from anything, whether it was chairing a meeting with a bunch of seasoned vampire guardians, or negotiating with a strategic business partner.
If he was going to be honest—and in the middle of the night, in a darkened room, with the only other occupant knocked out by sleeping tablets, he could afford to be honest—the Marchetta Vampire Prime had surprised him. She’d faced every decision she’d had to make with a calm confidence. She had a reputation for being ruthless, especially with her enemies, but he’d also seen her be fair. She was a hard taskmistress, but she never demanded of her staff anything she wasn’t prepared to do herself. And he’d been with her since the moment she’d awoken in that nutty little clinic under her father’s home, and she’d been hurt. She’d been tired, and yet she’d never let anyone see it, not even her brother, and most especially not the senator.
She’d swung into action immediately, taking control of everything in a seamless, effortless maneuver that had been almost genius. In a pack, if the alpha prime became ill, there was usually a leadership challenge. Only the strong could lead, and Vivianne had given that impression immediately—only he knew how much it had cost her.
Those moments she’d hidden behind closed doors, trying to catch her breath, or those long nights where she was plagued by nightmares.
Her hand twitched on the cover, drawing his gaze. There it was again, a flinch. He looked at her face.
Her brows were pulled in a faint V, and her head moved slightly in denial, her lips forming soundless words. He sat up. She was dreaming again. No, not dreaming... She flinched, and this time the movement was sharp, almost violent, and her hand rose as though to ward off something.
Her head rolled from side to side. “No,” she whimpered.
Zane frowned as he leaned forward. “Shh,” he whispered and reached for her hand.
His head spun, and he heard a loud, rushing sound, like a thunderous waterfall. He stumbled, falling to the ground, dizzy. His knees were on concrete, and he felt the burn in his palms, as though he’d skidded along the surface. A driveway. What? Zane shook his head, then looked up when he heard a scream.
Vivianne was struggling against a black wolf beside a dark car and tripped over the body of her dead guardian. The large black wolf stood over her, teeth bared. Her skirt was ripped, and he could see the mangled wound on her thigh, the bloom of dark red on her side.
Vivianne’s eyes blazed, her fangs lengthening, and she bared them at the beast, hissing as the wolf growled.
The lycan lowered his head, his jaws snapping, and Vivianne dodged those razor-sharp teeth, pushing against the powerful chest. The lycan fell back, and Vivianne managed to regain her feet before the black wolf launched himself at her, and Zane winced as he heard the dull thud of her body hitting the car door behind her, and Vivianne’s cry of pain as those teeth sank into her shoulder.
“No,” Zane yelled, his voice emerging as a deep roar.
The black wolf turned, and Zane glared at him, his head dipped low as he let a low, dangerous rumble emerge from his throat. The black wolf turned tail and ran. Vivianne stared at him, her hand pressed to her shoulder, but even now, Zane could see the crimson blood turning black as the lycan toxin started to act on her vampire blood.
Her face was pale, and he saw the stark realization in her eyes, the awareness of the death sentence she’d just been handed as she slowly slid down the side of the car. He raced toward her, catching her before she hit the ground.
She shook her head, her brown eyes tearing up. “I let him down,” she choked.
“Shh,” he whispered, smoothing her hair off her face.
“I’ve let them all down,” she said, and he could feel her trembling in his arms. He laid her gently down on the driveway and drew his singlet off over his head. He ripped the garment into shreds and pressed the rags to her wounds.
