eyes filled with tears. “You have no idea. I needed it, you see. I had to do it. I didn’t want to sign anything. And I don’t want to do what I have to do. But, Kelsey, if I don’t, they’ll cut me off. Please tell me you understand.”
He looked so lost standing there, scratching at his own flesh. He didn’t even realize his claws had come out. He’d scratched through his shirt and thin lines of red dotted the ruined fabric. Someone had to talk him down.
I turned to look for Marcus because no one on the planet was better at persuasion than my lover. “Wait here for a minute, Alan. I know someone who can help you.”
I was turning to cross the distance that separated us. Marcus’s head came up, sensing I needed him. He stood with a curious expression on his face. Donovan glanced up as well, his eyes following Marcus’s line of sight.
“No one can help me, bitch.” Alan snarled as his claws sank into my arm. Pain shot through me as he turned me around with a twist. “But killing you might buy me some time.”
His free claw swung in an arc that was meant for my throat. That claw was coming for me and it would split my jugular and then no amount of Marcus would likely stop me from bleeding out. I pulled away with all my might, something that should have sent weak-ass Alan across the room. He held me tight. I barely managed to avoid getting my throat slit. Alan’s claw did damn near take out my eye, though. He dragged his sharp nails across my cheek, gouging deep. I felt every inch of that tear.
I kicked out to get him off me and landed on my ass because Alan was already being assaulted on two fronts. Trent had his clawed hands around Alan’s neck. Somehow, Alan seemed to be pulling away from the big alpha. He couldn’t get away from Marcus, though. Marcus didn’t need to lay a hand on him. Alan stopped trying to pull away from Trent. His eyes went blank and glassy and his hands suddenly sank into his own belly. Blood began to flow from the wounds.
“Marcus, stop,” I yelled. Well, I tried. My face was totally fucked up and apparently having working muscles aids in the yelling experience.
All around me the club was coming to a standstill as the blood started to flow. Quinn was on some sort of walkie-talkie and security had been called. Donovan was suddenly standing next to Alan, and I hadn’t even seen him move. He had his hands on Alan’s, trying to pull them away from his bleeding belly.
“Trent, take his left hand,” Donovan ordered.
Trent joined the effort, pulling at Alan’s claws.
Marcus’s eyes had gone pitch black, his face a mask of pure rage. He stalked toward me. I could see his mind was still inside Alan’s.
“Marcus, let him go.” The king was yelling now. He appeared to be having trouble holding Alan’s hands away from his body. You have to understand. I’m talking about the King of all Vampire. The dude’s kind of super strong, and he wasn’t able to break Marcus’s hold.
My vampire lover said nothing, merely tightened his fist, and Donovan was swearing again as Alan renewed his attempts to gut himself.
“Marcus, please.” I put my hands on either side of his face. I needed him to focus on me. While the idea that his brain could trump Donovan and Trent’s brawn did something for my girl parts, I had other problems to consider. First, getting clawed by a hopped-up-on-freaky-drugs shifter hurt like shit and second, I still had a job to do. “I need him. You can’t kill him. He has information I need.”
“He cut you.” Marcus’s fangs gleamed in the low light of the club. “He would have killed you.”
“And you can fix me,” I promised. “But if you kill him, I can’t get what I need out of him. Please. This is important to me, Marcus.”
The vampire flashed his fangs and waved his right hand in an almost dismissive manner. Alan went limp, like a marionette who’d had its strings cut. Donovan and Trent had to catch him before he hit the floor.
Marcus
He looked so lost standing there, scratching at his own flesh. He didn’t even realize his claws had come out. He’d scratched through his shirt and thin lines of red dotted the ruined fabric. Someone had to talk him down.
I turned to look for Marcus because no one on the planet was better at persuasion than my lover. “Wait here for a minute, Alan. I know someone who can help you.”
I was turning to cross the distance that separated us. Marcus’s head came up, sensing I needed him. He stood with a curious expression on his face. Donovan glanced up as well, his eyes following Marcus’s line of sight.
“No one can help me, bitch.” Alan snarled as his claws sank into my arm. Pain shot through me as he turned me around with a twist. “But killing you might buy me some time.”
His free claw swung in an arc that was meant for my throat. That claw was coming for me and it would split my jugular and then no amount of Marcus would likely stop me from bleeding out. I pulled away with all my might, something that should have sent weak-ass Alan across the room. He held me tight. I barely managed to avoid getting my throat slit. Alan’s claw did damn near take out my eye, though. He dragged his sharp nails across my cheek, gouging deep. I felt every inch of that tear.
I kicked out to get him off me and landed on my ass because Alan was already being assaulted on two fronts. Trent had his clawed hands around Alan’s neck. Somehow, Alan seemed to be pulling away from the big alpha. He couldn’t get away from Marcus, though. Marcus didn’t need to lay a hand on him. Alan stopped trying to pull away from Trent. His eyes went blank and glassy and his hands suddenly sank into his own belly. Blood began to flow from the wounds.
“Marcus, stop,” I yelled. Well, I tried. My face was totally fucked up and apparently having working muscles aids in the yelling experience.
All around me the club was coming to a standstill as the blood started to flow. Quinn was on some sort of walkie-talkie and security had been called. Donovan was suddenly standing next to Alan, and I hadn’t even seen him move. He had his hands on Alan’s, trying to pull them away from his bleeding belly.
“Trent, take his left hand,” Donovan ordered.
Trent joined the effort, pulling at Alan’s claws.
Marcus’s eyes had gone pitch black, his face a mask of pure rage. He stalked toward me. I could see his mind was still inside Alan’s.
“Marcus, let him go.” The king was yelling now. He appeared to be having trouble holding Alan’s hands away from his body. You have to understand. I’m talking about the King of all Vampire. The dude’s kind of super strong, and he wasn’t able to break Marcus’s hold.
My vampire lover said nothing, merely tightened his fist, and Donovan was swearing again as Alan renewed his attempts to gut himself.
“Marcus, please.” I put my hands on either side of his face. I needed him to focus on me. While the idea that his brain could trump Donovan and Trent’s brawn did something for my girl parts, I had other problems to consider. First, getting clawed by a hopped-up-on-freaky-drugs shifter hurt like shit and second, I still had a job to do. “I need him. You can’t kill him. He has information I need.”
“He cut you.” Marcus’s fangs gleamed in the low light of the club. “He would have killed you.”
“And you can fix me,” I promised. “But if you kill him, I can’t get what I need out of him. Please. This is important to me, Marcus.”
The vampire flashed his fangs and waved his right hand in an almost dismissive manner. Alan went limp, like a marionette who’d had its strings cut. Donovan and Trent had to catch him before he hit the floor.
Marcus