He moaned, but began settling down. She put the now damp, cool cloth on his forehead. He was sweating, but his neck arched just a little at the feel of the cloth. His body relaxed, and his breathing evened out.
Is that better?
Fire. So hot. Where’s Claire? Marius? My brother. Oh, God, my brother.
I’m here, Lucian.
The chains told her he was lost in his grief and in the feverish whirlwind of his thoughts. She didn’t know what else to do, so she started telling him what Rumy had said about him. “He’s proud of you, did you know that? The leader of the underworld thinks you’re the best of all the vampires. I don’t know you very well, but I’m beginning to think he might be right. He said you’ve served for four hundred years.”
She continued in this vein and he seemed to relax a little bit more, taking deep breaths, a state that continued for some time. She resumed her seat and again sipped her drink, leaning her head into the wing part of the chair. She was more tired than she realized, and the mojito seemed to magnify her fatigue.
But a few minutes later she watched sweat bead on his upper lip and in the hollow of his throat. He started thrashing again.
She changed out the cloth and wiped all the way down his chest as well as his arms. The more she touched him, the more he seemed to calm down.
She continued to talk to him. She told him all about Josh, what it had been like to care for him for two years, how close she’d gotten to him, how often they played video games, and how much she missed him. She added that Rumy had given her an update on the boy once she’d arrived at The Erotic Passage: He was back with his mother and seemed to be thriving. “Adrien’s become a father to him, did you know that? At least that’s what Rumy said. See what you accomplished, Lucian? You kept Adrien safe, and now he’s able to keep Josh safe and Lily. You did good.”
He released a deep sigh, his brow still pinched, eyes still closed, but his body no longer spasmed and his breathing had once more settled down.
She returned to her seat and topped off her mojito.
Much later, between ministrations, dinner arrived. When she caught a whiff of the fresh bread, the pasta, and the salad, her stomach growled like she hadn’t eaten for a year. Being a blood donor in the vampire world and taking care of a sick warrior was hard work.
As soon as the wait staff left, she gobbled her food. Of course, it looked like she was eating for two now, a thought that made her smile because it seemed so absurd.
She glanced at Lucian, now lying peacefully on his back, his eyes closed, his arms at last slack in the bindings.
She munched on antipasto, swirled a bite of spaghetti Bolognese on her spoon, bit off a chunk of bread, and basically devoured her meal without one thought to manners.
It helped to be working on her third mojito between bites.
Of course, just as she was starting to relax, his legs began to thrash.
* * *
Lucian could smell the woman’s blood. What was her name? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t really focus.
He was unable to reach her, either, which filled him with rage. Something held him back.
More chains. He was covered in chains head-to-foot, bloody chains.
He thrashed, trying to break free of them.
Something cool landed on his face then traveled down his chest, easing him.
He was so hot. He walked through hell, flames licking at him constantly.
He couldn’t see much, but images flashed through his mind, of Marius as a little boy. Of Adrien. They were laughing. Sometimes Daniel would be gone for days at a time and they could relax, their wounds healing.
Lucian always structured their play and made his brothers study between times of torture. One day they’d leave, but until then, Papa would return, chaining them to wood tables, teaching them how to be men by slicing them open.
More images flashed of his mother smiling at him when he was very little, holding him close, telling him over and over how much she loved him and always would. She’d been human and died when he was four. Adrien and Marius each had different mothers, who had also died when the boys turned four.
Daniel had killed the women because his boys needed to learn how to be tough, not to whine or cry.
The fever raged once more.
Another cool bathing.
Was this his mother tending him?
No, his mother was gone.
Who, then?
He took in a deep breath, and the woman’s blood called to him. Something vibrated at his neck.
More heat.
Another cool wet cloth.
A soothing voice spoke to him, about the wonderful meal she’d just eaten of pasta and salad, then something about sage mojitos.
After what felt like centuries, his mind cleared and at last he was able to open his eyes. Only a single lamp burned on the nearby nightstand.
He glanced at the chair next to his bed. A woman rested there, her knees curled up, her lips parted as she leaned against the side. She was asleep.
His nostrils flared.
He could smell her blood. His stomach cramped. He moaned and the woman’s eyes opened.
She glanced at him, leaning forward. “You’re awake. And you’re finally present; I can see it in your eyes. How do you feel?”
He couldn’t remember her name. “I need to feed. Now.” His voice was hoarse, like he’d been screaming. Maybe he had been.
She scooted her legs off the chair and stood up. She drew the chair close to the bed. “Rumy told me only to offer myself to you like this.” She extended her wrist to show him.
Claire—yes, her name was Claire—rose from the chair and held the back of his head. She brought her arm close to his face.
His fangs emerged, descending rapid-fire. He struck then sucked hard.
In quick stages this time, as her blood flowed into his mouth, the cramping eased and his hunger abated. After a few minutes he released her wrist.
“Thank you.” He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
* * *
Claire drank from a second, less potent pitcher of water that Rumy had brought her about an hour earlier. How sweet it tasted, the exact thing she needed to fill up her reserves.
She could see that Lucian had fallen asleep; he was actually resting. He seemed different now, less panicky, more satiated. She sensed he was on his way to recovery, if not completely out of the woods.
And suddenly the need for sleep fell on her like a hammer.
She rounded the bed, her feet dragging. She’d have to sleep next to him because of their constant proximity issue, but Lucian wouldn’t be able to reach her because of the restraints, so she felt reasonably safe. She slipped off her shoes then—still wearing her T-shirt and jeans—crawled beneath the covers on the far side.