He looked at her, his veins surging with hope and heat, his fangs swelling inside his gums. His breathing was ragged and he could hardly focus the words. “Ru… bies…away,” he managed to say.
She stumbled back, chagrin on her face. “Oh,” she said, anger in her voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” Her voice faded and he heard the soft sounds of the gems being gathered up. She hesitated, looking around the room as if uncertain what to do with them, but before he could gather up the strength to tell her, she rushed toward the door and went through it.
When she came back, her hands were empty, and by then, Dimitri was actually breathing. His fingers had moved and the pain had centered back on his Mark, where he was used to it.
“Is that better?” she asked, coming closer to him. Too close.
His nose twitched as he inhaled her and a shudder rumbled through him. He wasn’t strong enough to push himself out of the chair, to stand…he needed blood. He needed sustenance.
Dimitri managed to nod and tried to tell her to stay back, but she kept moving closer.
“Let me look at you,” she said, right in front of him. She was examining the cuts on his cheeks. Her skirt brushed against the arm of the chair, where his ineffectual hand rested. “And I see you can’t even stand.”
He tried to growl a warning and an argument; nothing but a dull groan escaped. She touched his face where the ruby had sliced his cheek. Dimitri closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him with such gentleness.
Never, never had a woman affected him so.
A little shudder raced through his limbs, turning into something hot and powerful and needy. When he opened his eyes, she was very close. Her cheek, smooth and white, a breath away. That intriguing scent filled his space and a lock of hair hung just in front of his gaze.
“Maia,” he whispered, turning his face away. “Get… away.”
14
IN WHICH INTRODUCTIONS PROVE UNNECESSARY
Maia heard the note in his voice when he said her name, and the tone made her insides plummet. It was an awful combination of loathing and desperation. His eyes were hooded and shadowed, and she could see little but the dark shapes of them and the wounds on his face.
“Are you mad?” she said, trying to keep her own voice steady. “I’m not going to leave you here.”
She could hardly fathom that a man who was as large and dark and powerful as the earl had become little more than a rag doll, sagging in the chair. At the same time, she wanted to touch him again, but without the protection of the damp cloth. She knew he was injured, practically dead—as much as a vampire could die—but she couldn’t stop looking at him. The curtains on one window were open enough that light from outside—moon, stars, streetlamps—gave the chamber layers of gray color, and she could see the details of the man in front of her.
The wide breadth of his shoulders, marred as they were by small dark circles from what were clearly vampire bites, had felt so solid and warm beneath her hands. She’d seen his darkly haired chest from the door of his chamber, but now she’d touched the square curve of his shoulders and the sleek bulgeof biceps, the skin smooth and firm. He had a strong, corded neck, the ragged edges of his dark hair plastered there and to his temples and cheeks.
“Get away…from me,” he said again, this time more fiercely. His muscular hand moved as if to shove her away, but it flopped loosely onto his lap, barely brushing her arm. “Get Cale.”
“Don’t be a fool. I’m not leaving you,” she said. “I went through a lot of trouble to find you and I’m not going without you. Aside from that, it could take me hours or days to find Mr. Cale. And I don’t know whenshe’llbe back.”
He closed his eyes again. “Just…go.Please.Maia.”
This was the second time he’d called her by her name, and the sound of it, so low and rough, made her knees weak. She couldn’t leave him. She didn’t know where she was or how long it would take to get a hack—and it was nighttime, as well. She didn’t know when Mrs. Throckmullins was going to return—or whoever she was working with—and she certainly couldn’t manage to drag the earl from the room. He’d crush her if he put even half his weight on her.
Maia’s heart started pounding hard as she realized what she had to do. She licked her lips, trying to subdue a flash of nerves and titillation. It wasn’t just the rubies. He had four or perhaps five wounds, bites, plus the cuts on his face. He’d lost blood. Lots of it.
“You need to…drink. You need blood,” she said.
He jolted in the chair and growled. “No.”
But she saw the sudden catch of his breath, then the rough rise and fall of his chest. The pulse pounded in his throat and his eyes fastened on her, dark in emotion, fiery in hue.
Her mouth dried and her stomach fluttered as she remembered her dreams. Even the room tipped a little at the flash of temptation that rushed through her.
“Corvindale, you must.” She settled herself on the arm of his chair.
He’d turned away again and his jaw, dark with shadow, shifted. “Go.”
She drew in a deep breath and thrust her arm in front of his face. “Please.”
“I…can’t.” He was so close to her, her arm brushing against his bare one, his male scent and the warmth radiating from his skin filling her being.
