Electric Storm(37)

Rylan passed temptingly near, dancing with danger as Raven’s power ached to leap into his body. She resisted reaching out to trail her hands down his back. Although they would both relish the contact, it wasn’t healthy for either of them.

He knelt, and she found herself studying him and not the patient. There was something about him, the way he watched her that had Raven take notice and enjoy the attention. As if he could see below the surface and still liked her.

A corner of Rylan’s mouth kicked up briefly. That one second told her he understood his effect on her. The slight tightening of his fists let her know that he enjoyed it, too.

“Well?” Durant’s voice broke into the fantasy.

“The transition didn’t take. She’s dying. I can try to pull her over.” He stood and gazed at Durant, unfazed by the cat ready to leap and take a swipe at his throat. “I can’t guarantee it’ll work.”

“Why the hell not?” Durant took a threatening step forward, his fingers flexing as if claws were ready to burst from their tips. Raven grabbed the back of his shirt, surprised that he allowed her to stop him. The scent of leather rose from him.

“Because her body already rejected the vampire bite. If my blood is strong enough, it will clear out her system and re-start the change.”

“You don’t know?” Durant’s voice was sharp.

Rylan shook his head, his face impassive. “I’ve never turned anyone. I also don’t have a live blood source. If this works, she can use my blood for the transfusion, but she’ll also need to use someone else for the subsequent donations.”

“Why?” Jackson asked the question, but Raven knew the answer.

“He doesn’t want to tie her to him. The initial transfusion will give them a connection, but each subsequent exchange strengthens that bond.” She understood his reasoning. The less they tied themselves to others, the less it’d hurt later. People like them didn’t maintain ties. Friendships didn’t survive long.

It was safer for everyone.

“Do it.” Durant turned his back, his hard gaze landing on her face. There was no grief there now. It was all suspicion and retribution. If anything happened to Cassie, she knew who’d be blamed.

The men exchanged a silent look that she couldn’t interpret, one guaranteed to irritate a woman. She pretended she didn’t see anything.

“She’ll need to be fed a few times a night for the first couple of months if you want to keep her in check. If you miss a feeding, her control will falter. If she goes too long without food, her sanity will fade. The urge to search out prey will take control until only the animal instinct to feed will take over. You don’t want to see what a starved vampire can do.”

Raven refused to face Dominic. They knew. They’d seen it firsthand.

“Do you wish me to continue?” Rylan kept his tone bland, not revealing even a hint of emotion.

A curl of disgust twisted Durant’s lips, but he nodded. “Yes.”

Rylan removed his jacket, placed it neatly on a nearby chair. He rolled up his sleeves in his precise way, met her gaze and nodded to the door.

Raven took the hint and cleared her throat. “Everyone out.” Durant was the last to leave, and she had to prod him each step of the way.

She knew what to expect but the others didn’t. She planted herself in front of the door and waited. “Jackson, Dominic, would you stand by Mr. Durant? Taggert, please stand by me.”

“What’s going on?” Those tiger-eyes lifted to hers, suspicion heavy in his gaze, his power beating at her shields.

Before she could react, a scream of pain rent the air, riveting the men. The voice held such emotion, such devastation, they all flinched. When the second one came, louder, longer, they charged for the door.

“What the hell is he doing to her?”

“Hold him,” she commanded.

Taggert instantly understood the danger, placing himself in front of her, bristling with enough energy that her own abused talent reared its ugly head and licked its lips. With a firm step, she backed away from temptation, nearly weak with relief when the hunger eased.

“Mr. Durant.” It was as if he didn’t hear her. He slipped out of Dominic’s hold and swung at Jackson. She winced in sympathy when the blow landed, splitting open his cheek, but the stubborn man didn’t let go, didn’t loosen his hold. Dominic quickly captured the other arm again, muscles flexing.

Each step closer was a struggle, Durant pulling the men along like dead weight. Taggert tensed, ready to launch himself into the fray if Durant so much as twitched.

“Mr. Durant, how did you think this would turn out? For the transformation to work, she has to die.” She stepped closer, wishing there was another way, wishing she could offer him some sort of comfort that everything would work out all right. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t guarantee him anything.