Survivor - By Kaye Draper Page 0,80

want to help!”

He shifted from foot to foot and glanced at the door, impatient to be gone. “You aren’t strong enough to hold your own against an older vampire,” he said reasonably. “I want you here, where you are safe.” His eyes bore into mine. “I can use compulsion if I need to.”

I sighed and my shoulders slumped in resignation. “No.” I knew he was right. What help could I be in a fight? I was new, weak, and slow. Even if I were a hundred years old, I would still be a liability. I certainly didn’t want Peter to die protecting me, and I knew he would if it came to that.

Seeing my understanding, Peter dropped a kiss on my forehead, then turned and vanished into the night. “Just come back, okay?” I’m not sure if he heard me or not.

I locked the door behind Peter and went to pace restlessly through the house. Leah’s coven was filled with powerful vampires. Peter could hold his own. I knew this, and yet I couldn’t stop my heart from aching. A dull headache began to build behind my eyes. It wasn’t long before the visions came. I sank onto the couch and closed my eyes as I watched the battle play out in my head.

Lee’s people were attacking a big old farmhouse in the country. I got flashes. Bits and pieces here and there. I saw Cynthia and Viktor, beating back a group of strange vampires. I saw Peter, Haine, and Leah, but everything was moving too fast. It was a blur. Then Peter fell. Everything slowed as he went down under a pile of strangers. Blood splattered everywhere, and I saw, with perfect clarity, his hands flop lifelessly to his sides, arms flung out limply as if seeking benediction.

Haine was nearby, and I saw his eyes, mercury in the night, search the faces of his enemies. His mouth moved. Where is Lee?

There was a tinkling crash and my eyes flew open. I leapt to my feet, heart-wrenching grief warring with earth-shaking anger.

He’s right here, I thought, acidly.

*****

I bared my teeth and closed with the bastard. The shattered glass of the sliding doors crunched under his booted feet, but it was drown out by the growl that ripped from my throat. In my mind, I had seen Peter go down under this man’s people- his servants. I had nothing left to lose now. I wanted to die… and I wanted to take this son of a bitch with me.

He struck out at me with a clawed hand, and I was too slow to get out of the way. I let him grab me around the waist, smiling at the thought of how bad I was going to hurt him. My aura was out of control, and power ripped over me. I sank my teeth into the arm restraining me and pulled, hard and fast, ripping away a hunk of flesh. Images flooded my mind and it was all I could do to stay conscious as I took in the blood memory. I spat out the gob of skin and muscle as he screamed with rage. Then I contorted my body, twisting and eeling until I slid free of his grasp. He was stronger and faster, but he could never hold me.

He made a grab for me and I stepped aside, arching my back so that his hand grabbed air, then bringing my foot up to connect with his head. It was a weak blow. He staggered back, grinning, relishing the game he thought would end with my death. He was wrong. I laughed and shoved a chair out of my way, knowing before he did that he would have broken it over my head.

I knew who he was now. I had seen the memories in his blood. It was him who had organized the attacks on the lesser covens. What’s more, something had happened when I tasted his blood. “I seeee you…” I sang at him in a breathy voice that was chilling to my own ears.

He frowned at me. “I see. They don’t keep you here because you are important. They only want to protect you because you’re weak. Are you touched in the head? Turn go bad for you, little girl?” I could feel his pleasure. It didn’t matter if I was mentally handicapped. If anything, he would enjoy that even more.

I laughed. “You’re wroooooong,” I sang out in a beautiful soprano. I stopped moving. He was enjoying it