Having heard the conversation, Marc stood and dug around behind the seats. Finding the rope, he looped it through a D-ring tie-down on the floor of the chopper, then knotted it securely. Scoville stared at the rope unhappily, but gave a reluctant nod. He probably hated being the weak link, but he wasn’t stubborn enough to break a few more bones trying to prove something that didn’t need proving.
Christian’s house came into view, and it didn’t look good. Every light was on and the front door was wide open. As the pilot maneuvered into place, Christian noticed that one of the bedroom shutters was also cracked open, which meant someone had gotten out that way. Or at least tried to.
Fear settled in his gut. What the hell had happened? He looked over at Cibor, whose face reflected the same emotion. His lover was down there, a woman he’d been with for decades, if not centuries.
“This is the best I can do,” the pilot said over their headsets.
Christian leaned out the open door and nodded. “This will do.” He ripped off the headset, and leapt. Cibor was right behind him, then Marc, and finally Scoville slithered down the rope.
The minute his feet hit the ground, Christian was running, his senses wide open, scanning the house for signs of life. He found only one, faint but there. A vampire.
Where the fuck was Natalie?
“One vampire,” he snapped as Cibor raced up beside him. “Badly injured.”
Cibor growled and shoved into the house ahead of Christian, falling to his knees at what he found. Jaclyn lay facedown on the floor, blood staining her sweater and pooling around her from a wound they couldn’t see. Her head was turned to one side, her pale face bruised, her eyes closed.
“Jaclyn, moje serce,” he cried, lifting her delicate frame into his arms.
Christian didn’t know much Polish, but he knew that one. “My heart,” he’d called her, and the agony infused into those two words told Christian more than anything he’d learned from Natalie about the love shared between these two vampires.
“Let me help her,” he said gently, going to his knees in front of the couple. There was no point in searching the house for Natalie. She wasn’t here. And he wasn’t prepared to find her body, so he didn’t look.
Cibor crushed Jaclyn closer to his chest, with a hostile look. Christian understood the vampire’s dilemma. His instincts were telling him to defend her, but reason was telling him Christian could be trusted, and that he could help her. Cibor just had to get past the fierce possessiveness that was riding him hard right now.
Christian waited patiently, meeting Cibor’s gaze, gently urging the other vampire to think.
“Let him do it,” a weak voice said, and both vampires dipped their heads to stare at Jaclyn. Her lips parted in a bloody grimace. “My body’s trying to fix itself, but I’ve lost too much blood.”
Christian snapped his gaze back to Cibor. Jaclyn might want his help, but he still had to get past her lover.
The big Polish vampire finally nodded, but he didn’t release his grip on Jaclyn.
“She needs to drink, Cibor,” Christian said matter-of-factly. He wasn’t a lord yet, but he had far more power than Cibor did, which meant his blood was more powerful, too. He shoved the long sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow, then bent his head to rip open a vein. Blood welled instantly. Cibor’s nostrils flared, as Jaclyn turned her head, instinctively seeking the flowing bounty. She growled, and Cibor finally loosened his hold just enough for her to roll in Christian’s direction.
Christian didn’t wait. Not wanting to push Cibor’s protective instincts past the limit, he scooted only close enough to extend his arm, and place his wrist over Jaclyn’s mouth. She latched on at once, mostly lapping the blood at first, then sucking more vigorously as her strength returned. Which didn’t take long. Jaclyn was a powerful vampire, and Christian’s blood was potent. After only a few minutes, she gave a final long lick and released Christian’s arm. He could already see the strength returning to her, her face once again animated by her own power.
She sat up, still leaning on Cibor, but clearly far better than she had been.
“What happened?” Christian asked as patiently as he could.
Cibor gave him an unfriendly look, but Jaclyn patted her lover’s hand and turned to Christian. “It was my fault,” she said. “A friend came to the door, one of the few women on Anthony’s security squad, and someone I thought could be trusted. I opened the door to her, and the bitch did this.” She dipped her chin at her abdomen and the bloody ruin of her shirt. “But I was just in the way,” she said, meeting Christian’s gaze intently. “It’s Anthony, Christian. He still thinks Natalie is his.”
The rage in his chest was so consuming that Christian thought it would destroy him. He rose to his feet. “How long ago?”
Jaclyn shifted her gaze to the clock on the mantel, a clock he’d barely known was there.
“An hour, I think. He won’t hurt her,” she said, wincing as she tried to sit up. “But I think he’s leaving Houston for good this time. I don’t know who’s supposed to take over—”
“He was giving the territory to Hubert,” Christian said tightly. “But Hubert’s dead.”
Jaclyn’s eyes widened. “You?”
Christian nodded. “I have to get to the estate.”
“The chopper,” Cibor suggested.
“It’s long gone. We’ll have to drive.”