“You’ve blended with her mind then?” Giles asked with a raised brow.
Devlin knew it was pointless to lie. “No. But she had no chance to tell anyone.” A small kernel of doubt formed in his mind. Was it possible? Had she contacted someone about him? Was she one of the Chosen that could detect a vampire?
No. It wasn’t possible. Her reactions to him had been too honest—too innocent.
“Blend with her, Devlin. You must be sure. We will alert the others, but you must first blend with this human,” Giles ordered.
Devlin watched as the others at the large table nodded in agreement, though none of them spoke. “It will be done,” he said from between clenched teeth.
He heard Carina’s voice in his mind. “We have to be sure, Devlin. It is possible.”
Devlin didn’t reply. Without a word, he stalked from the room.
Devlin transported to his home. He needed time to think about his next step. It wasn’t that blending with her mind was going to hurt her. It wouldn’t. But it was an invasion. Thoughts were private. He could easily read things she broadcast, but her inner-most thoughts were her own.
He paced in his room. He should have never gone to the Council. Hell, for that matter, he should have never contacted Carina about Sarah in the first place. Devlin sighed and sat on the edge of the bed tiredly. Carina was an Elder. Her first loyalty was to the Vampire Nation. She was sworn, as were all the Elders, to protect them from danger.
That knowledge lessened his anger, but didn’t solve the inherent problem. He didn’t want to invade Sarah’s mind. It wasn’t fair to her. He could ask. Hell, she might even agree. But in her shoes—he’d be livid. He’d expect her to trust him. How could he make her understand that there was more at stake than just the two of them, though?
“Devlin!”
Devlin heard her voice coming to him urgently. Something was terribly wrong. With an oath, he willed himself to her bathroom. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”
There was no answer. Devlin was frantic. He couldn’t go search the apartment for her. There was a lot of blood. He could smell it—fresh blood permeated his senses, causing an instant hunger he ignored.
It was still at least an hour before dusk. In all the years he’d been a vampire, he’d never felt so helpless. “Sarah!” he yelled. Somewhere in the apartment she was hurt.
“Devlin!”
He said a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity might be listening. “What’s wrong, Sarah? Are you hurt? Come to me.”
Sarah’s voice shook when she answered. “Devlin, I can’t,” she said, her voice growing faint. “I’m hurt.”
Devlin’s heartbeat, had he had one, would have raced. “Are we alone?” He didn’t think there was anyone else in the house. He didn’t sense the presence of anyone else. Still, he wanted to be sure. Why hadn’t she called for him if she’d been in danger?
“Yes,” she whispered.
Devlin cursed fluently. “Love, are the blinds closed?” he called.
Sarah shook her head, trying to clear it. She was getting weaker. Dying. She was going to die. Not before she told him how she felt. It was all so clear to her now. Funny how that worked. It had all been so simple when there had been a madman standing before her with a knife in his hand. “I love you, Devlin.”
Devlin willed himself to her side and lifted her. In the next instant, they were in his home. He ignored the pain from the burns on every inch of exposed skin. They would heal. He placed her gently on the bed. “Sarah,” he whispered, touching her pale cheek. The front of her shirt was covered in dark read blood. Already, it was pooling around her onto the comforter. “Wake up, Sarah.”
There wasn’t as much as a flicker of her eyelids. She was unconscious. He felt for her pulse. It was there—but barely. Choice was taken out of her hands now. Either he had to change her, or he had to watch her die.
Chapter Eight
Devlin grabbed a knife from his bedside stand and quickly sliced his arm. He lifted her into his arms and held the dripping wound against her mouth. He prayed that it wasn’t too little too late. He’d never changed anyone. Of course, he knew the process. The one to be changed had to drink from the vampire.
But could she when she was unconscious? “Sarah! Drink!” he commanded, his voice hard. “Now!” He forced his will past her unconscious state, delving into her mind. “Do as I say, Sarah. Drink from me,” he ordered. “Do it now, love!”
As she drank from him, he too had to drink from her—and she had precious little blood to spare. He lifted her wrist to his lips, kissed it and sank his incisors into the radial artery. As always, there was the surge of power he felt with fresh blood, but this time there was so much more.