“Jake?” She let out a shriek when he pulled her down on top of him and buried his fangs in the side of her throat.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Muttering an oath, Saintcrow darted into the cage. He dared not pull Rosa away for fear Kincaid would rip out her throat.Shit. “Rosa? Listen to me. Talk to him. He’s half out of his mind with pain. He doesn’t know it’s you.”
“Jake? Jake, it’s me. Rosa. Remember? You love me, Jake. And I love you. You’re hurting me. Please let me go so I can take you home. Please, Jake.”
Retracting his fangs, he lifted his head. “Rosa?”
“Yes. It’s me. I’m here with Saintcrow to take you home. Luca is dead.” She glanced at Rhinehart, still lying motionless on the floor, and wondered if he, too, was dead.
“Rosa?” Kincaid put her away from him, his pain-filled gaze moving over her face.
She let out a sigh of relief as recognition lit his eyes.
“Rosa, come out of there,” Saintcrow said quietly. “Stay where he can see you.”
She stepped out of the cage, watched as Saintcrow broke the thick shackles that bound Jake as if they were made of tissue paper.
Saintcrow held out his left arm. “Drink.”
Kincaid didn’t argue. He grabbed hold of Saintcrow’s arm and sank his fangs into a vein.
Saintcrow looked over his shoulder at Rosa. “You saved his life,” he said, hoping to ease the worry in her eyes. “This is just to make him recover a little faster.”
Kincaid drank for several moments, then fell back on the concrete, his eyes closed.
“Is he … is he all right?”
“The sun’s up, that’s all. He’s still a few pints low. I imagine he’ll sleep until nightfall.”
Saintcrow licked the bite marks in his arm and left the cage to kneel beside Rhinehart. The man looked like death, but he was still breathing. Biting into his right wrist, Saintcrow pried the hunter’s mouth open and let a few drops of his blood drip onto the man’s tongue.
Rhinehart swallowed convulsively, then grabbed hold of Saintcrow’s arm and took several long swallows. He looked horrified when he came to himself. Jackknifing to a sitting position, he exclaimed, “What the hell? You didn’t … dammit, tell me you didn’t.”
Saintcrow chuckled. “Stop worrying.”
Rhinehart glanced around the basement. He grimaced when he saw what was left of the necromancer’s body. “Is that … ?”
“Yeah. Kincaid’s witch cooked up one hell of a spell.” Rising, he offered Rhinehart his hand and pulled him to his feet.
Rosa’s gaze darted from Saintcrow to Kincaid and back again, a question in her eyes.
Stepping into the cage, Saintcrow picked up Kincaid and draped him over his shoulder. “Give me your hand, Rosa. Rhinehart, put your arm around her waist and let’s get the hell out of here.”
Saintcrow dropped Rhinehart off at his home, then transported Rosa to Blair House. Standing on the porch, he said, “I’m taking Kincaid home with me.”
“But … ”
“Don’t argue with me. He’ll be out the rest of the day, and most likely through the night. He’s been as close to death as you can without going over the edge, but he’ll be okay, in time.”
Rosa wanted to argue. She had questions that needed answering, but the master vampire was already gone.
Vampires! Heaving an exasperated sigh, she opened the door and went inside.
Kadie was still at rest when Saintcrow got home. Their lair was the only secure place in the house and that was where he took Kincaid. He lowered him onto the floor in the walk-in closet and shut the door. He hadn’t wanted to worry Rosa, but he had no idea what condition Kincaid would be in when he woke. Few vampires had the strength to fully recover after something so traumatic. Some went rogue, becoming a danger to themselves and everyone around them. Some just faded away, their will to live gone. Some went mad and had to be destroyed.
One thing was certain, Kincaid would need blood when he woke. A lot of blood.