Stakes & Stilettos - Michelle Rowen [10]
“We need to go to my office,” Thierry said tightly. “Now, damn it. Hurry up.”
The fact that I could hear voices was a good sign. It meant that I was conscious. Or sort of conscious. I currently couldn’t see anything, although that was probably because my eyes were closed and they wanted to stay that way. I groaned.
“She’s waking up! Sarah! Don’t go toward the light!”
“Wh-where did h-he go?” I managed.
“Who? Sarah, please don’t try to talk. There was no one outside. Only you. You knocked on the door or we never would have known you were there.”
I didn’t knock. I couldn’t have. I’d been much too unconscious to knock. The Red Devil… he brought me back here and he must have left before the door to Haven opened.
“George,” Thierry said. “Please help me bring her to the office.”
There was a scuffle. I heard more voices murmuring as we passed through the main area of the club. I was being carried in someone’s strong arms. I forced my eyes open a crack to see that it was Thierry. He held me tight against his chest, and his expression was tense as he focused on the direction he was quickly moving in.
“Thierry…” I moaned against his black shirt.
His jaw clenched and he glanced down at me. “Shh, Sarah. Conserve your strength.”
He kicked open his office door and entered the room to place me as gently as possible down on his black leather sofa. It still hurt like hell.
“Close the door,” he told George.
I opened my eyes wider. George stood by the door wringing his hands. He was a vampire who was over eighty years old but looked like a twenty-something Chippendale dancer with shoulder-length sandy-colored hair, a tall, ripped bod, and a tendency to wear leather pants and tight shirts. He closed the door and came over to my side.
“Sweetie,” he said with an audible shake to his voice. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Really?” My mouth was very dry.
“It might not feel like it right now, but it’ll be fine.”
I coughed. “Thanks for the vote of c-confidence.” I looked down at my chest. The stake was still sticking straight out of it. My breathing was ragged. “That is s-so going to leave a mark.”
“Who did this?” Thierry asked.
I swallowed and cringed at the pain that caused. “Heather’s b-boyfriend. He… he wanted me to sire him.” I gasped for air. “There was no job. She let him stake me when I told him n-no…”
His silver eyes narrowed. “I will kill him for this.”
“One thing at a time,” George suggested.
“Yes.” Thierry’s jaw clenched and his expression was grim. His eyes reflected a brewing storm inside. “Sarah, please be brave for me. I need to remove this stake, and since it’s so close to your heart, I will need you to be very still.”
“Do you want me to leave?” George asked.
“No,” Thierry said quickly. “I need you to stay. The blood… there will be too much blood. You need to keep Sarah safe.”
Anyone else might wonder what he meant by that. Was George a trained nurse? No. Was Thierry squeamish when it came to blood and worried he might pass out and George would have to finish the job?
Nope.
I glanced at the bright red blood already soaking through my nice new white lace camisole. White, of course, because that’s always the way, isn’t it? Then I looked up at Thierry. His eyes had already turned from their normal silver shade to the black of a hungry vampire, and when he spoke his words were slurred due to his lenghtening fangs.
Thierry had a bit of an addiction to blood. When he got a taste of it he went a little crazy—to say the least. It had happened only once before, by mistake, and he’d nearly drained me dry. Vampires at his age don’t need to drink blood at all, and when they do, it only makes them want more. And more. Thierry normally drank cranberry juice now and I’d prefer to keep it that way.
At the moment, his concern for me was mixed with a healthy dose of… primal hunger.
Terrific.
If I hadn’t been dealing with the big piece of wood sticking out of my chest I’d have been a little more concerned for my neck.
“It’s