Leila, can you hear me?"
I opened my eyes, blinking. Vlad's face materialized in front of me, blurry at first, and then clear enough for me to notice that he looked concerned.
"Hey," I said, surprised at how weak my voice sounded.
"Will she be all right?" I heard Ben ask.
"All of you, leave," Vlad responded curtly.
"That's not nice," I mumbled. "You should talk to them before you bite them, too. Common courtesy."
His brow went up, but he said nothing to that. I heard shuffling feet and then moments later, a door closed.
"Did I faint?" I asked, trying to remember what happened. I'd been attempting to make Ben feel better about his former Minnie Mouse fetish, and then I saw something red . . .
"Yes. You were also bleeding from your ears, but it's stopped now."
Vlad's words were blunt, but they lacked the brusque tone he'd used with Ben. I tried to sit up, but his features started to get blurry again.
"Slowly," Vlad said. He grasped my shoulders, easing me into a sitting position. Then he slid behind me so that my back rested against his chest.
"Don't. I'm all sweaty and bloody," I protested.
"Heavens, not sweat and blood," he replied mockingly.
I managed to smile. Smartass vampire.
"Are you anemic?" Vlad asked, surprising me.
I frowned. "I don't think so, but I haven't been to a doctor in a long time, for obvious reasons."
He grasped my hand. Before I realized what he intended, he had my red-smeared fingers in his mouth.
"Stop!" I gasped.
His other arm went around my torso, holding me in place against his chest. Between that and his grip on my hand, no way was I breaking free even if I had all my strength back, which I didn't. I could do nothing but wait as he slowly sucked on my fingers, his warm tongue snaking in between them to get every last drop of blood.
"You're not anemic," he said when he finally let go and I yanked my hand away from his mouth.
I still felt rattled by what he'd done, and it wasn't because I'd found it repellent. "You can tell from that?"
"You'd be surprised by the things I can tell from tasting someone's blood," he replied in a lower, darker voice.
I shivered, acutely aware that my neck was only an inch from his mouth. As if to accentuate that point, his jaw grazed my cheek. His stubble doesn't feel as rough as it looks, raced across my mind. Then again, it hadn't felt rough in that vision, either . . .
"I think I can get up now," I said, trying to scoot away.
His arm stopped me before I got more than a few inches, drawing me back against that hard, heated chest.
"Stop fidgeting, I'm not going to bite you."
"Going to lick the blood off my head instead?" I asked before cursing myself. Give him the idea, why don't you?
I couldn't see his face, but I could almost feel him smile. "No, not that, either. Has this ever happened to you before?"
Being held against my will by a vampire? Sure, lots of times, I thought sardonically.
"Leila . . ." His voice held a note of impatience.
I thought back, ruling out the times I'd felt dizzy after falling during practice and banging my head.
"Years ago, right around the time I met Marty. Once I fainted when he and I were performing. Then Marty started making me these awful-tasting health shakes, and I got better. Maybe I hadn't been getting enough vitamins before or something-"
I stopped, because Vlad had tensed. If I thought his chest felt hard before, now it was like leaning against steel.
"How often did he make you those shakes?"
I didn't like the sound of his voice. Too controlled and pleasant-the same voice he used when he killed.
"About once a week. Why?"
He didn't answer, but pulled out a cell phone, dialing one-handed. With our close proximity, I heard the person answer.
"Yes?" Marty's voice, tight with tension.
"Why are you-?" I began, but Vlad's hand sliced the air in the universal command for silence.
"Martin," he said genially, "did you forget to tell me something very important about Leila?"
Silence, and then Marty's guarded "I don't know what it could have been-"
"Because she's right here, blood staining her hair after it leaked from her ears when she fainted," Vlad cut him off, his tone sharpening. "Does that stir your memory?"
I didn't understand where Vlad was going with this. He clearly thought Marty had something to do with my fainting, but why? How?
My uneasiness wasn't abated when I heard Marty's heavy sigh.
"I hoped she'd built up enough of a resistance that she'd be okay until I got back, but . . . well, f**k."
"Well what?" I demanded, struggling to rise to my feet.
Vlad's arm tightened, keeping me pinned to his chest. "He's been feeding you his blood in those shakes," he said flatly. "That's why they tasted terrible to you. I should have picked up on that the other day when the scent from my bloody shirt reminded you of them, but I was preoccupied."
I was stunned, my mind immediately rejecting the idea. I'd seen what Marty put into those shakes! Carrots, celery, tomato juice, protein powder, some vitamin drops . . .
Red vitamin drops in an unmarked bottle that he claimed he got from a friend who sold them on the side. I never questioned Marty about it. Why would I? I trusted him.
"Kid." Marty's voice flowed through the silence. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
My teeth ground together until my jaw ached. "Hold the phone near my ear," I directed Vlad. "Why?" I asked as soon as it was close.
Marty sighed again. "You were dying when we met. You didn't know it, but I could smell it. You're only human; you don't heal fast enough to undo the harm inflicted on your body from all that power inside you. I thought if I gave you a little bit of my blood every week, it might reverse the damage and even build up your resistance to the repercussions from your power. I was right about the first, but not the second, obviously."
In that moment, I was glad Vlad hadn't let me get up because I felt like all the strength left my body. I'd been dying? Could I believe him about that after he admitted he'd been lying to me the entire four years we'd known each other?
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" My voice sounded strong, at least. Anger helped with that.
"I wanted to, but I was afraid you'd say no." It sounded like Marty sniffed even though he didn't need to breathe. "You know what happened with Vera. When we met, you reminded me so much of her that I couldn't . . . I wouldn't let you die, too."
I shook my head, still furious but with tears in my eyes now. I wanted to beat Marty for his deception until my arms grew tired, and then I wanted to hug him and tell him Vera's death was not his fault and to quit punishing himself.
"I gotta go," I said, sniffing myself now.
"I don't blame you if you hate me," Marty said gruffly.
"I don't hate you, you dumb shit," I snapped. "But I am taking it out on your ass when I see you again. Count on it."
He let out a choked laugh. "I'll look forward to it, kid."
Vlad took the phone and at last released his hold. "Martin, I am not pleased," he said coolly. "The next time you withhold information from me, rest assured that I'll burn you to death."
Marty started to say something, but Vlad hung up. I slid away from him, my emotions still torn.
"I'd want to kill him for withholding that, too, if not for how messed up he still is about his daughter," I muttered. "Dwarfs can have regular-sized children, but you must know that. Vera was thin, long dark hair, blue eyes . . . she looked a little like me, and she was twenty when Marty killed her. I saw it the first time I touched him because it was his worst sin."
Vlad said nothing, but his brow arched in silent invitation to go on.
"In the early nineteen hundreds, Marty and Vera had an act together like he and I do now. After a show, some vampire attacked him, but he didn't stop there. He turned him and just left him. Marty rose as a vampire to find Vera crying over what she thought was his dead body. You know what happened next. No new vampire can control their hunger."
"No," Vlad said evenly, "no new vampire can. You're right that her death wasn't his fault, but I meant what I said. If he withholds information from me again, I'll kill him."
I stared at him. His burnished copper gaze was utterly dispassionate, the words spoken as if they had no meaning. Or maybe he just didn't care about how much that would hurt me.
"Sometimes I think you're the coldest person I've ever met," I said, rising to my feet.
"You could have died."
When he started to speak, Vlad was still seated on the exercise mat, specks of my blood staining his gray shirt and ruining his otherwise elegant yet casual three-piece ensemble. But before I drew my next breath, he was right in front of me.
"When someone threatens me or endangers a person under my protection, I make an example of him. This is the second time I've let Marty live out of consideration for you, but he won't get a third pardon. I can't afford to let others think they can get away with similar behavior."
"Because then you'll lose your scary reputation?" I asked with a bitter scoff.
"Yes, and my people will suffer for it," he replied, tilting my chin up so I had to look at him. "I don't kill out of a perverse sense of enjoyment. I do it to protect those who are mine because once life is lost, it's lost forever." His voice thickened. "You saw into me. You know what loss has cost me."
Oh, how I wished he was lying. It would be so much easier if Vlad was a homicidal narcissist who placed no value on anyone except himself, but I did know better. In a twisted way, he valued life more than most people, but in his case, it was specific to his people. No wonder they feared no one but him.
"Later, I want you to call Marty so I can talk to him again," I said steadily. "Give him a chance to come clean on anything else without your death threat hanging over him. After that, he hides something from you at his own peril. Deal?"
His lips curled. "Deal."
I started to walk away, but his voice stopped me before I got more than a few feet.
"We're not finished yet, Leila."
I wished I didn't know what he meant, but Vlad unbuttoning his shirt cuff and rolling up his coat and sleeve only confirmed my suspicion.
"What if I said no?" I asked. "Would you force me?"
He gave me a jaded look. "I don't have to force you. You might not want to do this, but you want to live more."
With his shirt and jacket rolled up, I saw the scars on his hands continued up his forearm, a fine dusting of dark hair covering some of them. I rubbed my own scar reflectively. I didn't remember the pain of my skin splitting open when the electricity from that power line ripped through my flesh. Did he remember what happened when all those scars were made, or had the passing of centuries erased that from his mind?
"I remember."
I jerked my gaze up to meet his unblinking stare. "When I was human, I led my armies from the front, and I kept my scars for the same reason you chose to keep yours-so I'd never forget."
I flinched at his correct guess that Marty had offered to slice my scar off. If he poured his blood over the wound right after, the incredible regenerative qualities it contained would heal my skin back to the same unblemished smoothness I'd had when I was a baby. But I'd wanted to keep the evidence of what happened. Every time someone winced when they saw my scar, I was reminded of how my selfishness cost my mother her life.
"I told you once before," I said, the words husky from remembrance. "Everyone holds their sins close to their skin."
Fangs gleamed for an instant before Vlad bit into his wrist, pooling up two deep crimson holes.
"Then come," he said, holding it out. "And taste mine."