"Why not? You can drain me as easily in a damp cell as anywhere."
Viper sprawled with elegant ease in his seat, wincing slightly as his injuries protested at the pressure against them. They would be healed within a few hours, but until then they would be a painful reminder of his most recent battle.
"It is true that I could make a fortune off your blood," he murmured, regarding her tight expression over the rim of his glass. "Vampires would pay any price for a taste of your potent elixir. However, I have no desperate need for more wealth, and for the moment I prefer to keep you to myself."
"Your own private stock?" she rasped, folding her arms over her stomach.
"Perhaps," he murmured in distracted tones as he reached into a small compartment beneath his seat and removed a small ceramic pot. "Hold out your arms."
She predictably stiffened, her breath catching in horror. She had made it clear that she considered sharing her blood with a vampire a fate worse than death.
"What?"
"I said, hold out your arms."
"Now?"
"Now."
Her jaw worked as she glared at him with fury. Viper held out a slender hand, calmly waiting.
Long moments passed before she muttered a low curse and thrust out her arm.
"Here."
Grasping her forearm in one hand he used his other hand to scoop out the pale green cream from the ceramic pot and carefully began to smear it on the red and blistered skin of her wrists. The wounds from the iron shackles would scar unless proper care was taken.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"There is no need for you to suffer. I have no liking for witches, but not even I can deny they know how to brew a hell of an ointment."
A frown touched her brow as he reached to tend to her other wrist.
"Why are you doing this?"
"You're injured."
"Yes, but... why do you care?"
Viper met her gaze steadily. "You belong to me now. I take care of my own."
Her lips thinned, not entirely happy with his explanation, but her muscles relaxed beneath his gentle touch and she didn't try to pull away. Not until he lifted her wrist so he could press his lips to her raw skin.
"No, please," she whispered, "I..."
Without warning her eyes widened, and with a powerful movement that caught him off guard, she had pulled free of his hold and had her hand pressed to the window.
Viper tensed at the sudden danger in the air. "What is it?"
"The darkness from the auction house," she whispered. "It's following us."
"Get down." he commanded, once again reaching beneath the seat. On this occasion he pulled out a sleek handgun.
There was a sudden thump as the limo was hit from behind and Viper muttered a low curse. He wasn't concerned they would wreck. The car had been built to withstand a small nuclear bomb. And, of course, his driver was a vampire. Pierre's reflexes were the best he had ever seen. Not to mention the fact he was immortal.
The perfect chauffeur.
But he would have the heart of anyone stupid enough to so blatantly attack him.