Guilty Pleasures - Laurell K. Hamilton [103]
I took a deep breath and it trembled. “Yes.”
“Even if we clean the bite, she may still be able to call you. If she’s as powerful as you say she is.”
“She’s that powerful and more.” I rubbed my hands along my jeans. “You think Nikolaos can turn me against you, even if we clean the bite?” I looked up at him then, hoping to be able to read his face.
He stared down at me. “We vampire slayers take our chances.”
“That wasn’t a no,” I said.
He gave a flash of smile. “It wasn’t a yes, either.”
Oh, goody, Edward didn’t know either. “Pour some more on, before I lose my nerve.”
He did smile then, eyes gleaming. “You will never lose your nerve. Your life, probably, but never your nerve.”
It was a compliment and meant as one. “Thank you.”
He put a hand on my shoulder, and I turned my face away. My heart was thudding in my throat until all I could hear was my blood pulsing inside my head. I wanted to run, to lash out, to scream, but I had to sit there and let him hurt me. I hate that. It had always taken at least two people to give me injections when I was a child. One person to man the needle and one to hold me down.
Now I held myself down. If Nikolaos bit me twice, I would probably do anything she wanted me to. Even kill. I had seen it happen before, and that vampire had been child’s play compared to the master.
The water trickled down my skin and hit the bite mark like molten gold, scalding through my body. It was eating through my skin and bone. Destroying me. Killing me.
I shrieked. I couldn’t hold it. Too much pain. Couldn’t run away. Had to scream.
I was lying on the floor, my cheek pressed against the coolness of it, breathing in short, hungry gasps.
“Slow your breathing, Anita. You’re hyperventilating. Breathe, slow and easy, or you’re going to pass out.”
I opened my mouth and took in a deep breath; it wheezed and screamed down my throat. I was choking on air. I coughed and fought to breathe. I was light-headed and a little sick by the time I could take a deep breath, but I hadn’t passed out. A zillion brownie points for me.
Edward almost had to lie on the floor to put his face near mine. “Can you hear me?”
I managed, “Yes.”
“Good. I want to try to put the cross against the bite. Do you agree or do you think it’s too soon?”
If we hadn’t cleansed the wound with enough Holy Water, the cross would burn me, and I’d have a fresh scar. I had been brave above and beyond the call of duty. I didn’t want to play anymore. I opened my mouth to say, “No,” but it wasn’t what came out. “Do it,” I said. Shit. I was going to be brave.
He brushed my hair away from my neck. I lay on the floor and pressed my hands into fists, trying to prepare myself. There is no real way to prepare yourself for somebody shoving a branding iron into your neck.
The chain rustled and slithered through Edward’s hands. “Are you ready?”
No. “Just do it, dammit.”
He did. The cross pressed against my skin, cool metal, no burning, no smoke, no seared flesh, no pain. I was pure, or as pure as I started out.
He dangled the crucifix in front of my face. I grabbed it with one hand and squeezed until my hand shook. It didn’t take long. Tears seeped from the corners of my eyes. I wasn’t crying, not really. I was exhausted.
“Can you sit up?” he asked.
I nodded and forced myself to sit, leaning against the bathtub.
“Can you stand up?” he asked.
I thought about it, and decided no, I didn’t think I could. My whole body was weak, shaky, nauseous. “Not without help.”
Edward knelt beside me, put an arm behind my shoulders and one under my knees, and lifted me in his arms. He stood in one smooth motion, no strain.
“Put me down,” I said.
He looked at me. “What?”
“I am not a child. I don’t want to be carried.”
He drew a loud breath, then said, “All right.” He lowered me to my feet and let go. I staggered against the wall and slid to the floor. The tears were back, dammit. I sat in the floor, crying, too weak to walk from my bathroom to my bed. God!
Edward just stood there, looking down at me, face neutral and unreadable as a cat.
My voice