Unspoken Page 15

  “He’s got some whore he hangs with that lives in a house off Main and Chestnut in downtown Jamesville.”

  “Address?” Chase started to drink.

  “I don’t know the friggin’ address!” he growled. “But wait. It’s beside a cheap Mexican food joint. Right beside it.” He stuck his hand out for the blood.

  Chase heard the truth in his words and considered whether to hand it over. Then deciding he believed the man and figured the rogue had enough hell in life, he passed him the bottle. He looked over his shoulder at the were still pressing on the bars.

  Pope gulped the blood down. Chase started backing out.

  “You ain’t got a chance, kid,” Pope said, pulling the bottle from his lips long enough to speak. “You think I don’t know who you are?” The scarred vamp laughed.

  Chase stopped, almost certain the man was lying, but … “Who do you think I am?”

  “He told me about you. You’re that doctor’s boy. Not really his, ’cause he’s Asian. He knows you’ve been looking for him. He knows the doc’s been after his ass forever. But he’s not gonna find him, ’cause the council ain’t gonna let him find him.”

  Shocked that he did know, Chase paused. “Why would they protect him?” Chase asked, sensing the temperature in the room drop.

  Get out. Get out now.

  Chase heard the female voice, knew it didn’t belong to this world, but he couldn’t listen, not now. “Why would they protect a murderer?”

  “Don’t matter,” Pope said. “Ahh, but you shouldn’t’ve poked around in the wrong places. He’s gonna find your ass.”

  Right then came a metal screech, followed by the clank of a bar hitting the concrete. Chase swung around, or tried to. He must have forgotten to stay in the middle and moved a little too far to one side. An arm came around, locked around his throat and something sharp jabbed into his back, slicing through skin.

  The pain in his back hadn’t completely registered when he saw the were step free of the metal bars and charge.

  “I got his liver,” said the were with his arm around Chase’s neck.

  Damn it, Chase thought. No one was getting his liver.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “That’s it, I’m calling Burnett,” Della snapped and threw the empty soda can that she’d been using as a stress ball across the room. Socks, still a kitten in spirit, charged after it. She reached for her phone.

  “I thought you were going to let me do it.” Kylie put her hand over Della’s.

  “No, Chase will know I forced you. I might as well own it.” She grabbed her phone and was about to dial when a text dinged.

  “It’s from Chase.” She smiled as the tightness in her chest lightened. But then she read the text.

  In front of school. Need help.

  “Shit!” Della bolted up.

  “What is it?” Miranda asked.

  “He’s at the front gate. I’m gonna go meet him. I’ll see you guys later.” She shot out the door.

  A red Corvette was parked in front. She walked through the gate, knowing the alarm would record her exit, but not caring.

  A man got out of the driver’s side. She recognized him as one of the men on the Vampire Council. Where was Chase?

  She approached with caution. But the look of concern on his face, and the smell of blood—Chase’s blood—had her stomach knotting.

  “Hello, again,” the blond vampire said. “I’m Kirk. I met you when—”

  “I know who you are.” Della recalled how small the council had made her feel. Her gaze cut to the car; no one else was in it. “Where’s Chase?” She felt her eyes brighten.

  “Relax. I’m not here for trouble. Chase is reclined in the backseat.”

  Della started to the car as her questions started forming. How had Chase ended up with this man? Had Chase been lying about going to a prison? Had he even quit the council?

  “I wanted to take him to a doctor but he refused. Said you would take care of him.”

  Her questions stopped with his words. Take care of him? She was so not a nurse.

  “He needs blood quick. He said he had plenty at his cabin.”

  “How bad is he?” she asked, but didn’t wait for his answer. Instead she opened the car door and lifted back the seat to see for herself. The smell of blood hit and hit hard. Her gut tightened.

  “It looks serious,” Kirk said.

  The words sent sharp pain to her heart. Chase lay there, dead still, his shirt covered in deep red stains. His eyes were closed. Was he even conscious? Could he be…?

  She didn’t breathe until she saw his chest move to take in air.

  “What happened?” She looked back over her shoulder at Kirk.

  “Just a little trouble,” Chase said before Kirk answered.

  Della swung her head back around and saw his lids flutter open.

  “And it’s not that serious.” He shifted.

  “Do you need a doctor?” she asked.

  “I would feel better if he allowed me to take him to one,” Kirk spoke up. “I can get him there in less than five minutes.”

  “No.” Chase’s tone was so adamant that it seemed to mean something.

  Della looked at the blood on his shirt and worried how bad the injury was. Sure, vampires healed, but if something was really damaged, they could still die. “But if you need—”

  “No.” Chase’s eyes met hers as if trying to tell her something, but damn it, mind-reading wasn’t her specialty.

  Chase pushed against the seat to sit up. “All I need is some blood and the ointment.” He slumped back down in the seat. “And maybe a little help getting out of the car.”

  She moved the front seat up so she could reach Chase.

  “Do you need me to help?” Kirk asked.

  Chase looked up at her, and ever so slightly shook his head.

  “No,” Della said. “I can do it.”

  She got Chase out of the car. His arm came around her shoulders, and she had to latch her hand around his hip to keep him from falling over. When she did, he flinched. That’s when Della realized his shirt was even bloodier in the back than in the front.

  “Go home,” Chase said to the older vampire. “I’ll be fine.”

  As she walked Chase to the gate, she heard Kirk pull away. When she knew they were far enough away that he couldn’t hear, she said, “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  “Can I just concentrate on not passing out right now and explain later?” His pain sounded in his voice, and her chest swelled with sympathy.

  “You need a doctor,” Della said, the smell of his blood overpowering.

  “Give me fifteen minutes after I drink the blood and use the ointment, and if I’m still bad, call your good friend Steve.”

  Della frowned at his tone and the idea of calling Steve. Not that she doubted that he would help. He would.

  Two steps after they got through the gate, her phone dinged with a text.

  “Probably Burnett,” she said.

  “Don’t…” Chase didn’t finish.

  They continued walking, and when they got to the entrance of the trail, Chase said, “Della?”

  “Yes.”

  “She saved me.”

  “Who saved you?” She felt his weight fall on her a little heavier.

  “Your aunt. She … she appeared and everyone could see her. I could see her. They all freaked out.”

  “Who all freaked out?” she asked, but she was more concerned about getting him to his cabin than hearing his story.

  “They were attacking me. The prisoners. I think they thought she was a death angel. It gave me enough time to get to the Taser. I think the were shit his pants he was so scared.” Chase chuckled, but it sounded weak.

  “You should have taken me with you,” she snapped. And then she was angry with herself for not following him.

  “Della?” he muttered as if he hadn’t heard her admonishment.

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”


  “You are not dying!” she seethed.

  He chuckled. “I didn’t say I was … But just in case.” His knees gave. She caught him, and realized he’d passed out.

  She held his dead weight in her arms and ran as fast as she could to cabin fourteen.

  * * *

  She spoke to him the whole way, but he never once answered. Bolting inside his cabin, she nearly tripped over Baxter. She tried again to wake Chase. “Rise and shine, buddy. You hear me? You have to wake up!” Della headed straight to the biggest bedroom and put Chase on the bed. He didn’t moan or even stir.

  Baxter jumped up on the bed, came to rest beside him, and whined. The dog’s dark eyes met hers, as if asking her to do something.

  “I’m trying,” she spit out.

  Sitting on the edge of the mattress, panic building in her gut, she took his face in her hands. “Chase, open your eyes, damn it!”

  Knowing he needed blood, she ran to the fridge and found four bottles. Not knowing what else to do, she sat down and filled his mouth with the blood. It ran out of his lips, and he never swallowed. Then, afraid he would choke, she turned his head. Blood dripped out of his mouth, turning the white sheet red. She noted another growing stain around his torso, darkening the light tan bedspread. He was losing way too much blood.

  “Shit!”

  Standing up, barely able to breathe, she remembered Kylie’s ability to heal. She grabbed her phone and dialed Kylie. The phone rang once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  It went to voice mail. Damn it, the girl had just been in their cabin. “Where are you? Come to cabin fourteen. I need you!”

  She paced the room, her gaze on Chase, watching to make sure he was breathing. Baxter had inched closer and now rested his snout on Chase’s arm. But his big black eyes kept shifting to her as if telling her to do something fast.

  Should she go find Kylie? Leave him?

  Then she recalled Chase’s words: Give me fifteen minutes after I drink blood and use the ointment, and if I’m still bad you can call your good friend Steve.

  For one second, she worried how awkward that would be, but before that second ended, she had dialed and was waiting for Steve to answer.

  He picked up on the first ring.

  “Hey.” In that one word, she heard how happy he was to hear from her.

  “I need you to come to cabin fourteen. Chase’s hurt … It’s bad.”

  She pulled in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” She realized he’d hung up. Was he coming? Was he angry that—? Chase moaned. Della ran to the bed and caught his hand.

  “Chase? Can you hear me?” She lifted his head and held the bottle of blood to his lips. “Drink some blood. You need blood.” He didn’t drink and his head fell to the side.

  She heard someone running up the steps. Inhaling, she got Steve’s scent. He didn’t knock, just ran in.

  “In here.”

  “What happened?” Steve set a bag down and went to stand by the bed.

  Baxter growled.

  “No, Baxter,” Della said, and then, “I … don’t really know. He was going to a prison to see if someone there had information about my aunt’s killer.”

  “I thought your uncle—”

  “My uncle said it was another vampire.”

  “How long has he been unconscious?” Steve asked.

  “Just a few minutes.”

  Steve spotted the bottle on the bedside table. “Did you get him to drink any blood?”

  “No. He passed out.”

  Steve pulled out an IV line, needle, and bag. “Take his clothes off and see how bad his injuries are while I set this up. And … get the dog out of the bed.”

  Della motioned for Baxter to get down. He didn’t like it, but he did it. Dropping down on the other side of the bed, he looked up at Steve as if to say he wasn’t going any farther.

  Della started undressing Chase, and the sight of the wound in his abdomen made her breath catch. “It’s bad.” Her voice shook.

  “He’s vampire.” Steve grabbed the blood and poured it into a bag. “If it’s just blood loss he’ll be okay. Take his jeans off, too,” Steve said. “To make sure he doesn’t have more wounds.”

  The fact that she was undressing Chase only seemed awkward when she started unzipping his jeans. She saw his green fitted boxers, and recalled him joking about her being interested in his underwear. Now her only interest was making sure he lived to tease her about this. Her chest hurt again from the fear that he wouldn’t ever know, that she’d never hear him tease her again, or see his eyes brighten with a smile.

  “He doesn’t have any wounds on his legs,” she said, tugging his jeans off and tossing them on the dresser.

  When she looked back, she recalled touching Chase’s back and thinking he’d had wounds there as well. She turned him over. With her hands on his bare torso, she noted how shallow his breaths were. “He has another one in the back. Oh, God. It’s bad, too.” She clenched her fist. “Please don’t let him die, Steve.”

  Steve’s eyes met hers for one second. “I’ll do everything I can.” He looked away and hooked the blood bag on the back of the bed. He shifted Della out of the way. “Let me get the IV in and then I’ll check his wounds.”

  Della called Kylie again. No one answered. “Where are you? Please come to cabin fourteen.” If Steve’s magic didn’t work, maybe Kylie’s would. But even Kylie couldn’t heal Della during her rebirth, and Kylie hadn’t been able to save Ellie the vampire, either.

  Della felt a few tears roll down her cheek and she swiped them away. “Tell me he’s going to be okay,” Della said to Steve.

  “Get me some hot water to clean the wounds,” he spouted out.

  “Oh, and I’ll get the ointment. I think it’s in the kitchen.”

  “What ointment?”

  “It’s especially for vampires.” She took off out of the room.

  Grabbing the ointment, she was almost back to the bedroom when Chase’s growl echoed through the cabin.

  She flew into the room. Steve was cleaning the wound on his abdomen. Or had been. Now he held the bloody cloth up above Chase, while Baxter had his front paws on the bed, his lips curled back in a growl of his own.

  “Down, Baxter,” Della said. “We’re trying to protect him too.”

  Steve looked back at her. “You might have to hold Chase down.” He frowned. “But then again, he might hurt—”

  “Is he conscious?” She dropped the ointment in Steve’s hand.

  “Not fully. But he’s reacting to the pain. It could be dangerous.”

  “He won’t hurt me,” she said, believing it with all her heart.

  “He might not know it’s you.”

  “He’ll know.” Della sat on the tiny space beside Chase and the edge of the mattress. When she first touched him, he growled again.

  Steve caught her as if ready to pull her back if Chase attacked. “We might need to tie him down.”

  Tears came to her eyes, realizing how much pain Chase must be in. “He’s too strong. He’ll just break loose.”

  “Then let’s call Burnett,” Steve said.

  She shook her head. “Chase won’t hurt me. I know that.”

  Steve frowned. “But you’re not the only one in the room,” Steve said. “And considering the exchange we had earlier, killing me might not be too far off his bucket list.”

  “He came to and spoke with you?” Della asked.

  “Not now. Earlier today.”

  Steve and Chase had talked? Della put that little piece of information in the back of her mind to ponder later. “He wouldn’t hurt you, either.” And damned if she didn’t believe it. “He even suggested I call you if he didn’t start feeling better.”

  Steve seemed to give in.

  She leaned down. “Chase, it’s me, Della, okay? Steve’s here. He’s trying to clean your wounds. I know it hurts. But it has to be done. So I’m gonna hold you down, so Steve can do this. Please, don’t fight us.” br />
  “He might not be able to hear you.” Doubt sounded in Steve’s voice.

  “He hears me,” she said.

  Slowly, she rested her hands back on his chest.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “We have to do this,” Della repeated to Chase in what she hoped was a calm voice, even though calm wasn’t even close to what she was feeling. Guilt, she felt. Shit-loads of it. She looked at his face. His eyes were closed, his skin was so pale, and his expression was empty. Chase was never without expression. Why hadn’t she stopped him? Or at least insisted on going with him? Why, damn it?

  Then she tightened her hold. He didn’t growl. She looked at Steve. “Try again.”

  Steve frowned as if he disagreed, but restarted cleaning the wound.

  Chase moaned and arched his neck back, pushed his head into the pillow. Baxter jumped up on the other side of the bed. He didn’t growl or bare his teeth. He seemed to understand that they were trying to help now.

  “Does he need surgery?” Della asked, so afraid Steve would say yes.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Stitches?”

  “Normally, we don’t do stitches on vampires. You guys heal quickly as long as…”

  His pause gave Della concern. “As long as what?”

  “As long as you haven’t been deprived of blood for too long. And an infection doesn’t set in.”

  “Does it look infected?” she asked.

  “Not yet. But it wouldn’t show up for a few hours. It’s when it’s healing that the signs of infection will show up.”

  “And if it does?”

  “We’ll have to open the wounds back up, clean them again.

  “Turn him over,” Steve said when he finished cleaning the gaping hole in Chase’s abdomen.

  “Put the ointment on him first.”

  Steve picked up the tube he’d dropped on the bedside table. “I don’t know what this is.”

  “Chase says it works.”

  “But it could be—”

  “It’s okay. My uncle invented it.”

  “Your uncle?”

  “He’s a doctor, or medical research scientist.”

  “And possibly a murderer,” Steve pointed out. “You trust him?”

  Did she trust her uncle? She didn’t know, but it hit her then that she trusted Chase—on this at least—and he believed in her uncle. “I trust Chase’s opinion. Use it.”