Be Still My Vampire Heart(94)

 

Last night, after Emma had fallen asleep, he'd ripped a wooden slat from a chair back and taken the spoon from the table. He'd spent the rest of the night scraping the spoon along the slat's edge. He'd hidden them under his kilt while he slept.

 

They were still on the floor under the table. He examined the piece of wood. He'd succeeded in narrowing one end, but it still wasn't pointed enough to make a good stake.

 

He grabbed the spoon and went back to work, scraping and whittling.

 

"What are you doing?" Emma asked from across the room.

 

"Making you a weapon."

 

"How?"

 

He didn't answer. It took all his energy to keep control of his hunger and keep whittling. After a while, she spoke again. "I tried to pull the silver off the walls, but I couldn't find an opening big enough for you to teleport us out. I'm sorry."

 

He made a noise of acknowledgment. He wouldn't have the energy to teleport, anyway. His only hope rested in the Vamps finding them before sunrise.

 

It was Friday night, he realized. Shanna would be having her baby. And it was exactly one week since he'd met Emma. It seemed like a lifetime.

 

He kept whittling. The wood slowly took the shape of a stake. When hunger overcame him, he sank his fangs into his arm.

 

Sometime after midnight, he heard the creaking of the cot. "Ye should sleep. Ye need to be awake during the day to make contact with Austin."

 

"I know." She yawned. "I just kept hoping the good guys would appear. Do you think Katya's found Casimir yet?"

 

"I doona know. I'm certain she's trying, but I canna hear them through the silver."

 

Soon after, he heard her soft, even breathing and knew she was asleep. Her pulse slowed to a steady, hypnotic beat. He crawled out from under the table and looked at her. She was beautiful. So brave and pure of heart. He returned her pillow, gently lifting her head to slide it underneath. His hand lingered on her neck. Her pulse called to him, and he backed away.

 

He stripped and stepped into the wooden tub. He used half the water from the bucket to wash. The mixture of cold water and cool night air was uncomfortable enough to take his mind off the hunger and pain. For a little while.

 

He put his kilt and T-shirt back on. He returned the screen to the bathroom area. The glaring light from the ceiling lightbulb bothered him, seemed to make his head ache more, so he set a chair under the lightbulb, climbed up, and gave it a quick twist. The light went out, and the room became soothingly dark. He returned the chair to the table, then sat and waited. The stake lay finished on the table in front of him. Emma lay on the cot like a gourmet feast, his for the taking. There were only a few hours before sunrise.

 

He could only hope his friends would come soon.

 

Emma had fallen asleep to the soft, rhythmic sound of metal scraping wood. When another similar sound interrupted her sleep, she ignored it and snuggled deeper under the blanket. She turned her head and realized vaguely that her pillow was back. Angus was looking out for her while she slept.

 

The scraping sound repeated. Poor guy. Still making stakes. It had to be almost dawn.

 

She could hear the birds outside chirping and feel that calm stillness before the day began. She should wish Angus good night before he slipped into his death-sleep. She opened her eyes and noted the lighter gray light around the window. Angus would be settling down underneath the table. She glanced toward the table.

 

It wasn't there. Neither was the screen. It had been put back in the corner bathroom. Where was Angus? She sat up and heard a creak behind her. She turned and gasped.

 

Angus had pushed the table against the western wall and was climbing up. She glanced back at the window and jumped to her feet. When the sun rose, it would pour through the window directly onto him.

 

"What are you doing?" She ran toward him. Was the fool trying to kill himself? She halted when the truth slammed into her. He was.

 

He looked at her sadly. "I dinna want ye to see this."

 

"I can't believe you're doing this. Come down before you get burned."

 

"I swore to protect you, Emma. And yer worst threat right now comes from me."

 

"Bullshit." She yanked at his kilt. "Shame on you. I can't believe you would give up this easily."

 

"Ye think I do this lightly?" His eyes blazed with anger. "Look at me!" He showed her his arms.

 

She gasped at the sight of so many wounds.

 

He leaned over to make closer eye contact. "That could have been you."

 

Tears blurred her eyes. How much had he suffered to keep from biting her? "I'm sorry."

 

"You doona understand the terrible power of this hunger." He straightened. "Even now, I can barely keep myself from tearing into yer throat."