Page 75 of The Vampire's Mate

One last kiss, and when I opened my eyes, he was gone. I finally started the car and sped toward Cambridge, knowing that James was likely already there. I tried to keep calm as I drove, but it was difficult. Ringing echoed through the car as I attempted to call Kian again and again—and every time it went to voicemail. I’d just ended another call and pressed the button to try again when the squeal of tires seemed to pierce through my brain. I looked up, but not fast enough. A van blocked the intersection. I slammed on the brakes, but the last thing I remembered was the sound of crunching metal.

Everything went black.

Chapter 27

When I came to,I wasn’t sure exactly whereI was. I shifted, finding hard, unforgiving concrete beneath me. With each beat of my heart, pain coursed through my body. Still, I somehow found it in me to sit up. I reached up to the back of my head, my hand coming away wet and sticky with blood.

The space was dark and damp, and combined with the concrete, I guessed I was in a garage but in the pitch black, I couldn’t even begin to identifywhere. Though something about the place seemed oddly familiar. The ringing in my ears was deafening. I brought my legs underneath me in an attempt to stand—only to fall back down, landing painfully on my ass. My limbs felt like lead. Centering myself, I scooted to my right, carefully feeling out to the side with my hand. Every time I came up empty, my heart sank a little more.

Yes!

Finally, my hand connected with an automatic garage door. That at least meant I was in a house. Relieved, I paused to gather myself. My bloody hand rested on one leg while I mustered the strength to try again. I had to stand up—I hadto.

There were too many lives at stake.

After a few measured breaths, I planted my hands to either side of my hips. Gritting my teeth and letting out a snarl of pain, I pushed myself up, not stopping until I was on my feet. Though I stumbled slightly, I managed to remain upright. With my hands on my knees, blood seeping through the denim of my jeans and trickling down the back of my neck, I tried to wait out the nausea. Then I straightened up. My past experience with head injuries warned me the nausea was something I’d just have to deal with.

Fighting the urge to pass out again, I rotated slowly. My boots scraped against the concrete and I winced. The noise likely seemed louder to me, but I didn’t want to tip off anyone who might be lurking in the shadows that I’d regained consciousness. I groped along the wall, navigating around various yard tools and garage-related obstacles—no doubt leaving a streak of blood along the wall worthy of any horror movie—until my fingers curled around a wooden door frame. I cautiously reached for the metal knob—it was cold, which meant they hadn’t resorted to setting the place on fire.

Yet.

I leaned in, pressing my ear to the wood. I couldn’t hear anything from the other side, but that didn’t necessarily mean that there was nothing there.

I tried the knob, turning my hand slowly and feeling it give. To my surprise, there was nothing blocking it either. Whoever had put me here, they were confident—or stupid—enough to think they wouldn’t have to restrain or barricade the door.

It was even darker in the house than it was in the garage. I took a step and cringed, my heavy winter boots squeaking against linoleum—I was in a kitchen. The dark and quiet of the house gave me enough confidence to pause to take in my surroundings. Iknewthis kitchen. At least in here, the faint moonlight streaming in through the window gave me some light to work with. The modern appliances that couldn’t have been more than a few years old, the crisp white cabinets, and the spacious butcher’s block island set right in the middle… this wasJames’skitchen. Letting out a sigh of relief, I started to move again, but not before grabbing the first weapon I could find and sliding it into my back pocket. I’d been at his place a few times but I was working entirely off of muscle memory and the little light that I had.Fuck, how long was I out?

The rest of the house was eerily quiet. Something wasn’t right. I took each step slowly. I felt for the edge of the kitchen counter, using that to guide me around the perimeter of the space and toward the open dining area. From there, I’d be able to find my way back to the living room.

But as I rounded the corner, my stomach lurched. A shape lay crumpled in the middle of the floor. I froze, searching for any sign of movement. Nothing. Though it was so dark I wasn’t confident I’d be able to see something anyway. I stumbled into the room, falling to my knees next to the body.

Kian. He was on his side, face in the carpet. I steeled myself, though I wasn’t sure any amount of mental preparation would be enough if he was…

Before I was quite ready, I gently grabbed his shoulder and rolled him onto his back. Damn it, it was still too dark for me to see if his chest moved.

“Kian,” I whispered, leaning down to determine whether I could feel his breath. I let out a sigh of relief when a soft exhalation warmed my cheek. Grabbing his shoulders again, I gave him a gentle shake. “Kian!”

This time he stirred, groaning and attempting to sit up.

“Don’t move,” I told him. “Not yet.”

“What happened? Where am I?” he mumbled, words slurring as if his tongue was too big for his mouth.

“We’re in James’s house.” I brushed his hair away from his face, my hands coming away sticky. “You got hit in the head.”

“I did?”

“Pretty hard it seems. Where’s James?”

Kian was able to pry his eyes open, blinking and trying to come to terms with the darkness. “Dunno… feel sick.”

“You probably have a concussion. You mean James didn’t bring you here?”

Kian’s eyes widened, taking in my appearance as they adjusted to the dark. “There’s blood all over your face,” he said, gulping.

“I don’t doubt it.” I worked an arm around his shoulders, helping him into a sitting position. “Listen: I want you to get out of here. The moment you can stand, I want you to leave the house and get as far away as you can.”

“What about you?”

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