"Tell me." She thrust him backwards, towards the windows and the pale beams of sunlight beginning to filter into the room.
His struggles grew more violent, the pain in her head sharper.
"Tell me," she repeated and pushed him closer.
Light caressed his left arm and, almost instantly, his fingers went a deep, dark red. He screamed. It was a sound filled with fear and anger, and shuddered right though every fiber of her being. Not very old at all, she thought, and pulled him back a little.
"I can't." His eyes were haunted, frantic. "He'll kill me."
She wondered how young he really was—or how young he'd been when he'd been turned. Despite the bravado and the tough words, she suspected he was only in his mid-to-late teens. A babe in human or vampire terms. But then, Jasper had been a lot younger, and he'd been one of the most depraved bastards she'd ever met. She raised an eyebrow. "And you think I won't?"
He stared at her for a heartbeat. His desperation singed the air as he began to struggle again. Red-hot pokers gnawed at her brain, and pain shuddered through her entire being. She couldn't hold him for much longer—and when the net of power failed, she'd be in trouble.
"Are you really so desperate to die?" she said, thrusting him back into the light.
He screamed again. "I can't," he said, twisting severely. "If I go back without killing you, I'm finished."
"Then don't go back. Run for it."
"You don't know these people…"
He gave a final twist and shattered her hold on him. Agony locked her mind tight, and she fell to her knees, fighting tears and the red tide of pain threatening to engulf her. She wrapped her fingers around the remaining stake and thrust it out in front of her, knowing it would be as useless as a toothpick against a snake.
But the young vampire didn't attack.
He ran for the window and the sunlight instead.
"Don't—" The rest of her words were lost in the shattering of glass. She scrambled to her feet and staggered over to the window. The vampire's body became flame the minute he fully hit the sunlight, and the fire consumed him with a fierceness that turned her stomach. There was nothing left of him but black dust by the time he hit the pavement.
"What the hell has been going on here?" Jake said from behind her.
The cavalry has arrived. But too late, as usual. An insane desire to laugh bubbled through her, but what came out was more a sob. She slid down the wall and closed her eyes.
"Nik? What happened? Are you all right?" Jake knelt beside her and touched her arm. She flinched, and he cursed.
"You're bleeding. Henry, get the hotel doctor up here immediately."
She opened her eyes a slither and saw a big man in an official-looking black and gold uniform walk over to the phone. Henry, obviously. "Are all the exits in this hotel guarded?" she murmured.
Jake frowned. "Yes. Why?"
"Because a vampire just waltzed into my room and attacked me with a very large knife he'd stuck down the leg of his jeans."
Jake glanced quickly at the man on the phone and lowered his voice to ask, "Are you sure?"
"Sure that it was a vampire?" She forced a smile and rubbed her forehead with her good hand. "Oh yeah, I'm sure. If you look down at the pavement below this window, you'll see his dust."
"Did he say anything?"
"Other than they wanted me dead, no."
"The doc's on his way," Henry said as he put the receiver back down. "And I called the cops."
Jake cursed under his breath. "Thanks, Henry. Do you mind standing guard outside the door until the police arrive?"
The big man nodded and headed for the door.
"He knew my name, Jake," she said when Henry had disappeared. "It was no mistake."
"But you're not registered here under your name—only as my guest. How the hell did they even know you were here? You'd barely arrived."
"I haven't got any answers. He killed himself rather than give me anything."
Jake thrust a hand through his hair. "I don't like this."
"Join the club," she murmured and looked past him as a gray-suited man carrying a heavy bag bustled into the room.
"About time," Jake said, rising to make room for the stranger. "She's bleeding pretty heavily from her left arm."
"It's just my arm that's injured, not my tongue," she muttered.
The gray-suited stranger knelt beside her, then reached into his bag and grabbed some gloves. "You able to remove your sweater, or shall we just cut it?"
"Cut it," she said. The less she moved right now, the better it was for the pain in her head. She closed her eyes again, leaning her head back against the wall while the doctor sliced open the sleeve of her sweater.
"Pretty nasty," he murmured after a while. "And you're losing a fair bit of blood. You should really go to the emergency room."
"No. Just stitch it up, Doctor. I'll be fine."
"I really think you'd be better in emergency. The wound is very deep, and might have caused serious muscle damage."
She bit back her annoyance. The last thing she felt like doing right now was arguing—especially when her head felt ready to explode. All she wanted to do was take some painkillers and lie down in the dark until the pain drifted away.
"I don't care what you really think," she snapped. "Just stitch the wound up. If you're worried about being sued, write up a release form, and I'll sign the damn thing."
The doctor glanced around. "Mr. Morgan? This could come back on the hotel, you know."
"It won't. Just do as she asks," Jake said.
The doctor muttered something under his breath. She closed her eyes again, trying to ignore the sharp sting of the needle as he began stitching her arm.
Time slithered by. "Here," he said eventually, "is a prescription for painkillers. If you see any sign of infection near the wound, get yourself to a hospital immediately. Try not to use your arm much for the next few days."
She opened her eyes and accepted the white slip from him. He shoved the bloody cloths in a bag, peeled off his gloves and placed them in a medical-waste bag, then picked everything up and headed out the door.
"You want me to get that prescription filled?" Jake said into the silence.
She nodded and handed it to him. "Don't bother with a guard near the door, either."
"Nik, I can't leave you here unprotected."
"Why not? A guard wouldn't have stopped that vampire, believe me." She rubbed a hand across her eyes, trying to ease the ache. "Besides, it may have been just a random attack."
Jake snorted. "When he knew your name? You can't honestly believe that."
She didn't. But right now, she just wasn't up to looking for answers or worrying. "Look, I'll be fine—the vampire won't be missed for a few hours yet. I'll just catch some sleep, and then I'll do the search for Dale."
Footsteps sounded outside. She tensed and didn't relax any when two burly police officers appeared in the doorway. Sleep, it seemed, was a ways off yet.
She answered their questions as civilly as her headache allowed, wishing all the while everyone would just leave her alone. They "tutted" over the window, gouged the knife from the mahogany sideboard and eventually said they'd get back to her.
Not that she expected to hear from them anytime soon. Knife attacks, it seemed, weren't big news.
Especially when nobody was missing or dead.
By that time, Jake was back with her painkillers. She climbed wearily to her feet and gave him a tired smile. "Thanks."
"I've arranged for you to be put into the next suite. We have to get the window here fixed anyway."
She nodded, though she had a suspicion changing location wasn't going to make a great deal of difference to whoever was after her. She collected her bag and followed him into the next suite. It was almost identical to the original one.