Kindling Flames—Gathering Tinder, Page 6

  She shuddered at the cold note in her boss’s voice, and they rode for the rest of the trip in silence.

  ***

  Darien pulled up in front of Vicky’s apartment and turned to look at her. Relaxed against the seat, Vicky had nodded off during the trip home. Her head tilted over so her face was turned away from him, leaving the long line of her neck exposed. Darien felt the sharp points of his fangs against his lip as he thought about how tempting the soft skin over her pulse point was. He couldn’t help thinking about how defenseless she was in that position. After considering it for a moment, he shook the thought away. It would be a bad idea to mix work with pleasure. He’d gone through a lot of trouble trying to find someone so well suited to his needs. It wasn’t worth the risk of having to go through that hell again just for a little blood.

  “We’re here.” Darien touched his assistant’s shoulder to wake her up.

  Vicky shook her head to clear her mind of the sleep that had overtaken it. She yawned into the back of her hand, breathing deeply as she stretched the sleep from her. Embarrassed, she realized she had fallen asleep. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Ritter. Thank you for taking me home.”

  He smiled warmly at her. “You’re quite welcome, Miss Westernly. Now, go get some rest.”

  Unable to get her eyes to focus properly on her boss’s face, Vicky blinked several times before thanking him again and getting out of the car.

  Darien waited until she was safely inside before heading back to the game of chance he’d left to retrieve the two uncut emeralds from the depths of Vicky’s bag.

  ***

  Vicky dropped the mysterious bag on the couch as she headed to the bathroom to wash her face. Once clean, she changed out of her dress and crawled into her covers.

  Studying the patterns on the kimono, she tried to sort out what had caused her to do a double take on the face of the handsome man that dropped her off. Vicky was sure it was just her sleep-addled mind and the stupid shenanigans of her friends that caused her to see things that weren’t real. There was no way she had seen fangs poking out of the corners of her boss’s mouth. Vicky closed her eyes and let herself slip back into dreams filled with thick, foreign accents, vampires, and brilliant, green eyes.

  The keys on Vicky’s computer clicked as she entered the data from the files piled on her desk. She had finally emptied out both of the boxes that Darien had left for her to organize. Between keeping her boss on time and running his random errands, it had taken her the better part of the week just to get the papers in something that resembled order. Now that they were sorted out, all she had to do was input the information into the spreadsheet she’d created. Once finished, she would have a clear and precise account of all the finances of the small company Darien was interested in picking up. It should only take another week of constant work for her to finish the job.

  Her attention was pulled away from the figures when the door to the outer office swung open, and a large man walked in. Dressed in dark jeans and a red T-shirt under a black leather biker’s jacket, the man stood a full head taller than Vicky did. His hair was dark brown and would have looked rather nice if he had combed it properly. As it was, he looked as if he had just run his fingers through his hair roughly. The stranger’s heavy boots carried him with intent towards Darien’s office.

  Vicky stood to greet the man before he could interrupt her boss’s conference call. “Good afternoon, sir,” she began. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  The man ignored her and continued towards her boss’s door.

  Vicky quickly put herself between him and the door.

  He stared at her, surprised. “I’m here to see Darien. Move,” he growled.

  She took a step back but didn’t shift out of his way. “Mr. Ritter is busy at the moment,” she informed the man glaring at her. “If you would like to make an appointment, I’d be happy to help you.”

  He growled at her again and took another step towards the inner office. “I’ll see him now.”

  Vicky took another step back, so she was almost against the door. She raised her hands and placed them on the man’s chest to stop his forward momentum. “I told you, he’s busy now. Please don’t make me have to call security.”

  Before she knew what was happening, the man grabbed her by the throat, lifted her up to his eye level, and pressed her into the wooden door. “I will see him now,” he snarled into her face.

  Vicky clawed at his hand as she gasped for air. She kicked at him, trying to get free. Dark spots filled her vision as pain radiated from where he was crushing the life from her. She tried to scream for help, but nothing would come out past the hurt being caused her. The last thought that passed through her mind before darkness engulfed her was that the stack of paperwork next to her desk would never get entered into the spreadsheets.

  ***

  Darien opened his office door and caught the unconscious form of his assistant as she fell from his unannounced visitor’s hand. He quickly gathered the un-breathing woman into his arms and transported her to his leather couch, knowing he would need to do something fast to save her life.

  “Damn it, Rupert!” Darien cursed. “Why the hell did you go and do that?” He checked Vicky’s pulse and found it thready.

  “She’s human?” Rupert said, slightly shocked, as he stepped into the room and shut the door. “With the way she was acting, I didn’t realize she was. You can fix it, right?”

  “Yes, but I’d rather not have to,” he growled at his visitor before turning his mind to the girl who desperately needed his help.

  Darien’s unwelcome guest watched him work.

  Rupert had done a fine job of crushing her trachea. Darien knelt next to Vicky and placed his right hand over the damaged area. Using his left hand, he pinched off her nose and tilted her head back slightly, so he could press his mouth firmly over hers. He blew gently into her mouth, trying to push some air into her lungs. As he did so, Darien released a tendril of power into the damaged area and forced the crushed windpipe back to its original shape. Tasting the blood bubbling up from her injury, he suppressed the shiver of excitement that always came with the taking of blood from a living being.

  Once she could breathe again, Darien pulled away from her mouth, pushed back his vampiric nature, and centered himself so that he could complete the healing she still needed.

  Now calmer, he drew another deep breath and sealed his lips to hers once more. The rich taste of her fresh blood was hard to ignore, but he forced back the cravings and concentrated on rebuilding the injured tissue.

  When the majority of the work was done, Darien pulled back from the life-giving kiss and sat back on the carpet to collect himself. He pushed up from the floor and turned his attention to the man watching from the other side of the room.

  “What do you want, wolf?” Darien snarled with fangs in full view.

  Rupert’s eyes widened at the response from the normally calm vampire. He had seen Darien heal many times, but he had never seen this reaction before.

  “Are you okay?” Rupert asked.

  “Not really. Crushed throats lead to blood in the mouth. Very bad for one’s control.” Darien walked farther away from the source of his issues, yanked open the window, and stuck his head out. He could still smell the fresh blood from his assistant.

  “Sorry about that. I’ve just had a lot on my mind recently.” Rupert rubbed the back of his neck and looked a little remorseful. He glanced back to the young woman resting on the couch. “I’d forgotten how fragile humans can be.” He turned his attention back to Darien leaning out the window, drawing in the clean air. “I didn’t think you all needed to breathe,” the werewolf commented.

  “We don’t breathe when we sleep, bloody madra,” he scolded him.

  Rupert could see that Darien was regaining control. When the vampire turned around, his fangs were gone.

  Darien leaned against the open windowsill with his arms crossed over his chest. “Now,
what do you mean by coming here during business hours and accosting my employees?”

  Rupert turned serious. “Have you heard about the recent murders?”

  “The ones the reporters have dubbed the ‘Southside Slaughters’?” Darien asked.

  Rupert nodded.

  “I’ve been following them in the papers. What about them?”

  “There was another fire last night.”

  Darien shrugged at this information. “So?”

  “The shredded victims were all my wolves,” Rupert said grimly. He was the local pack alpha, and, although he was a rough man, he cared dearly for all the people in his pack.

  Darien uncrossed his arms and stared at Rupert in shock. He had assumed that the torn up bodies had something to do with a rampant werewolf. Such things normally were, but for something to have torn up werewolves without being seen or heard by anyone was insane. “If these murders weren’t caused by your kind, what did it?”

  Rupert shrugged. “I was hoping you could help us find out,” the alpha wolf explained. “There’ve been other strange happenings in the south side before the fires started, and we had been trying to track down the cause of the trouble. So far, we’ve been unsuccessful. I was hoping the Vampire Council would be able to help.”

  Darien looked at him, astonished. It had been a long time since the werewolves and vampires had gotten together to deal with anything. The last time had ended badly, and the two groups usually avoided each other like the plague. “You, of all people, should know there are difficulties between the vampires and the wolves,” Darien pointed out.

  Rupert nodded. “That’s why I’m coming to you. You’re the only one in town on neutral ground with both groups. Please, Master Darien,” Rupert begged, “we can’t handle this by ourselves.”

  Darien sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the headache that he knew this would cause. How could he refuse a begging pack alpha? “All right,” he relented, “but you owe me twice for this. Once for dealing with the Vampire Council and once for injuring my people. And, I expect you and yours to be nice to Miss Westernly in the future. She works too hard to be treated with such disrespect.”

  “You have my word.” Rupert bowed deeply, accepting the demand of two boons. He would have given much more to ensure the safety of his pack. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go visit my sister before leaving.”

  Darien waved him off with a growled warning not to disturb anyone else on his way out.

  Rupert agreed, chuckling as he exited the office.

  Darien looked over at the sleeping form of his assistant. He was going to have to get something to quiet his hunger before he really did sink his fangs into that undefended neck of hers.

  ***

  Vicky tried to breathe deeply as she woke, but coughed when the air caught in a sore place in her throat. She let out a pained noise as she raised her hand to her neck and touched it gently. Her eyes opened to reveal an unfamiliar ceiling. Rolling her head over to look at the room around her, she was shocked to find she was lying down on the couch in Darien’s office. Someone had placed a woven blanket across her to keep her warm.

  Pulling herself into a sitting position, Vicky puzzled over how she got into this predicament. She could just remember the violent man lifting her against the door, but everything after that was missing. Vicky could see her boss working on some project at his desk. When she tried to stand up, her head spun violently, and she sat back down.

  “Careful there.” Darien got up from his work and sat on the edge of the couch next to where Vicky was hunched over. He pulled her up, so he could look in her eyes to make sure she would be okay. “You’ve had a nasty shock.”

  She moved limply under his gentle hands. “Is he gone?” Vicky croaked hoarsely. She swallowed, trying to soothe her sore throat.

  Concern crossed Darien’s face at how crackly her voice was. He was worried he had missed something important when he reconstructed her windpipe. “He’s left and won’t bother you again,” Darien reassured her. “Let me have a look at your throat.”

  Vicky nodded lightly and tilted her head back, exposing the injury.

  Placing his right hand behind her head to support her, he wrapped his left across the bruised skin of her neck, and pushed a bare hint of power into the damaged area, searching for the problem. Finding a split in the cartilage around her vocal cords, he snapped it back into place where it belonged. He could have healed her completely, but that would lead to some very hard questions that he didn’t want to answer.

  Vicky was in too much pain to disagree with her boss’s invasion of her personal space. His hands felt good on the soreness of her neck. They were unusually warm, and the heat penetrated deep into her throat, soothing the hurt. She closed her eyes and relaxed as she let him feel her throat. A quick, sharp pain brought a cry from her lips, and she nearly passed out from the intensity of it. The only thing that had kept her from collapsing to the cushions were the hands on her neck. Vicky panted as black spots danced behind her eyes. She felt Darien shift her so that she was lying down on the couch again.

  “Rest here for a little longer,” he said softly.

  Vicky nodded without opening her eyes. She didn’t feel as if she could get up at the moment, anyway.

  He fluffed the blanket back over her and went to find her something to drink. Even though he had sped the healing process along, Vicky would need rest to allow the tissue to knit properly.

  ***

  Vicky woke up to the more familiar ceiling of Darien’s office. Her throat felt better, so she sat up slowly and looked around the dimly lit room.

  Darien was using the light on the corner of his desk to fend off the growing darkness as he read through the thick stack of paperwork in his hands. He folded the papers back into a file and placed it lightly on his desk before coming to check on her. Vicky watched him approach.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  Vicky cleared her throat lightly and smiled weakly. “Better,” she whispered. The crackle was gone from her voice, but it was still tender to talk.

  Darien nodded his approval and held out his hand so Vicky could use it to stand. “It’s getting late. Let me take you home. You should be fine by morning,” he reassured her.

  “I’m sorry,” Vicky whispered as she took hold of his hand and rose from the couch. She felt bad that she had slept for most of the day.

  “Don’t be.” He patted her on the shoulder as they headed towards the door. “It’s not your fault. You did a good job today.”

  Vicky looked at him skeptically and shook her head as she headed to her desk. Saving her work, she cleared away her project before picking up her bag, so Darien could take her home.

  Holding the door for her, he let her lead the way.

  Vicky was still unsure how to feel about the events of the day as she settled into the passenger seat of the familiar Aston Martin. She closed her eyes and thought about the man who had strangled her and the last thought that passed through her mind as she blacked out. A joyless laugh slipped from her.

  “What’s funny?” Darien asked, trying to coax Vicky’s thoughts from her.

  “Ironic more than funny.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, and Vicky continued.

  “I was sure I was going to die when that guy had me pressed against the door, but it didn’t happen.” The day had been too surreal to scare her at the moment.

  Darien was surprised at how well she was taking the near-death experience. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell her how close she had actually come to dying. “What didn’t happen?” he prodded.

  She shrugged. “That whole ‘life flashing before your eyes’ thing. It didn’t happen. No thoughts of my family or friends. Nothing about my past. The only thought that hit me was of the pile of folders sitting next to my desk, and how I wouldn’t get the chance to enter them into the spreadsheets.”

  “Well, you don’t
need to worry about it now.” Darien shot her a smile as he pulled out into the evening traffic. “You’re fine, and you’ll get the chance to get back to those files tomorrow.”

  Vicky let out a heavy sigh that made Darien chuckle. Turning her attention away from her boss, she stared out the window. The world slipped past, unseen, as her fingers found their way to the tender area of her neck. The sound of the cartilage in her throat giving way under the pressure of the man’s hand had terrified her. She had been sure she was going to die, but here she sat with only a sore throat. How she had managed to escape her doom was beyond her, but she was sure it had something to do with the man driving her home. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a good way to ask him. Nothing short of extensive surgery could fix a crushed trachea, and that obviously wasn’t the case here. Maybe the terror and pain had made her think there was more injury than there really was. Vicky nodded her head as she settled on this explanation of the day’s events. She had just passed out from lack of oxygen, and her mind had exaggerated the experience into something more serious than it was.

  “Make sure you get something to eat before going to bed.”

  Vicky was pulled from her thoughts by Darien’s words. She blinked for a moment until she realized they were sitting in front of her apartment building. “I will,” she promised as she clambered out of the car. Turning around, she bent over, so she could look at the man who had taken such good care of her. “Thank you.”

  Darien smiled warmly at her. “You’re quite welcome, Miss Westernly. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Vicky closed the door and found her way into her apartment before Darien pulled back out onto the street. Dropping her bag in its customary spot on the couch, she kicked off her shoes and headed into the kitchen to drop a package of ramen noodles in a pot. If she overcooked them a little, they would be soft enough to get down without hurting her already-tender throat.

  Darien studied the silken scarf wrapped around Vicky’s neck. It was soft and flowing, and it accented her outfit quite nicely, but that wasn’t the reason his assistant was wearing it. The scarf didn’t quite cover all the bruising, but it was just the right color to make one question if the purpling seen around the edges was on the skin or part of the scarf.