Her hand tightened on his as she combed her fingers through his hair.
“That’s it. Open your eyes for me.”
At last, he succeeded and tried to bring his surroundings into focus.
What was wrong with his eyes?
What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he think straight or hold on to a thought for more than a fleeting second?
As his vision cleared, he realized he lay in Jenna’s bed, a blanket drawn up to his waist, leaving his chest bare. His Second was sprawled in a chair across the room, legs straight, feet splayed, arms dangling over the chair’s arms, head back, mouth gaping as he emitted periodic snores.
At least I’ve located the damned chainsaw.
Daylight framed the closed blinds on the only window the room boasted. A discarded IV stand sporting an empty bag of blood stood sentinel beside the bed.
“Richart?” Jenna sat beside him, her hip a gentle pressure against his. Faint signs of fatigue lined her pretty face.
He curled his fingers around hers, still trying to find his voice.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
It took a couple of attempts to coax sound to emerge. “Like I have the worst hangover ever. What happened?”
She shook her head. “Sheldon wouldn’t tell me what happened before you got here, just that you were out on assignment and something went terribly wrong. John and I were having dinner here last night when you suddenly . . .” She closed her eyes for a moment. “It feels so weird to say this.”
“What?”
“You . . . teleported into the living room.”
Alarm surged through him.
“Sporting fangs.”
He clamped his lips shut.
“Drenched in blood.”
Holy hell.
“With glowing eyes.”
Every curse word he knew in every language he had ever learned paraded through his mind.
She knew. At least part of it anyway. “You called Sheldon?” he asked, avoiding her gaze.
“No. Your cell phone was shattered in whatever fight left you so torn up. He came looking for you around noon.”
She knew.
John knew.
She’d never forgive him.
Fear-induced adrenaline surged through him, finally resurrecting a few memories.
The ambush. The vampire king. The darts.
Grabbing the pillow from behind his head, he threw it at his somnolent Second’s slack face.
Feet flying up, Sheldon snorted and jackknifed into a seated position. “I didn’t do it!” His eyes sought and found Richart. “Oh, shit. You’re awake. Man, you had me worried.” He crossed to the bed.
Richart squeezed Jenna’s hand and pulled himself up into a seated position. The room tilted. Dark clouds invaded his vision and swirled around before clearing as the dizziness ebbed. “Étienne and Lisette?”
Jenna moved to sit at his side and wrapped an arm around him for support.
A tiny spark of hope flared. She wouldn’t do that if she hated or feared him, would she?
“As of half an hour ago, they still haven’t regained consciousness,” Sheldon said, “but their wounds have healed like yours.”
“Roland and Marcus?”
“They’re awake, but not at full strength.”
“Ami?”
The younger man’s gaze darted to Jenna and back. He raised his eyebrows in question, silently asking if he should speak freely.
“Just say it. I’m going to tell her everything as soon as you leave anyway.”
“The vampire king or one of his followers captured her.”
Dread flooded Richart’s stomach like acid.
“Bastien tracked their scents to Carrboro and lost them,” Sheldon continued, “but Marcus went after her as soon as he woke up and found her.”
“She’s alive?”
Sheldon nodded.
“In what condition?”
“I don’t know. Last I heard Darnell was heading over to Marcus’s place to check on her. I’m sure Seth has been called in by now to heal her.”
Richart dropped his legs over the side of the bed and braced his bare feet on the carpet. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Sheldon told him.
Richart shook his head. “I should have stayed. I shouldn’t have teleported that last time. I thought I could take her away from there.”
“If you had stayed, you would have died.”
And Ami still would have wound up in the vampires’ hands. The vampire-hunting profession was very good at producing no-win situations. “Go home and get some rest.”
“I don’t think I should leave you. You aren’t at full strength.”
“Go home,” Richart insisted, his tone offering Sheldon no wiggle room. “I’ll be along in a while.”
“What if you can’t teleport?”
“I’ll call you and you can drag your ass back and give me a ride. Or, if the sun has set, I’ll walk.”
Nodding, Sheldon grabbed a piece of paper and pen from the bedside table and scribbled something down. Once finished, he handed the scrap to Jenna. “Here’s a number where you can reach me. If he needs anything, call me.”
“Okay.” Jenna took his Second’s hand. “Thank you, Sheldon.”
Bobbing his head, Sheldon gave her hand a squeeze, scrutinized Richart one last time, then backed out of the room. The front door opened and closed, then they were alone.
Chapter Five
Silence descended upon the room, heavy with things unsaid.
“It belatedly occurs to me,” Richart began rustily, “that I should have asked you if you wished me to leave.”
“No.” She added nothing more. Nor did she move away, sitting close behind him on the bed.
Richart found himself at a loss. He didn’t know how to do this. How to reveal all of his secrets. How to coax a human into accepting him without fear or loathing. A human whose scorn he couldn’t bear to face.
“Why won’t you look at me?” she asked.
Richart rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping it would help clear his head and ease the pain it housed. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Done what?”
“Tried to find a way to tell the woman I love that I’m not human.”
She drew in a sharp breath.
“Tried to find the right words to convince her not to fear me or revile me after letting her see me at my worst, covered in blood, with my damned eyes glowing and my fangs bared. What you must think of me . . .” Rising shakily, he braced a hand on the wall.