“The last time you took on Trent, you almost died,” she said, sweat trickling down her neck to disappear behind the deep V of her shirt. She was sweating?
“The key word there is ‘almost,’ ” I said boldly.
“No. The key word is ‘died.’ ”
I could feel the heat coming from her and stepped back. Glenn was in the archway, watching me with wide eyes as I argued with a vamp. There was a knack to it. “Ivy,” I said calmly, though I was shaking inside. “I’m taking this run. If you want to come with Glenn and me when we talk to Piscary—”
My breath cut off. Ivy’s fingers were around my throat. Gasping, my air exploded from me as she slammed me up against the kitchen wall. “Ivy!” I managed before she picked me up with one hand and pinned me there.
Air coming in short, insufficient pants, I hung off the floor.
Ivy put her face next to mine. Her eyes were black, but they were wide with fear. “You aren’t going to talk to Piscary,” she said, panic a silver ribbon through the gray silk of her voice. “You aren’t taking this run.”
I braced my feet against the wall and pushed. A breath of air made it past her fingers, and my back smacked back into the wall. I kicked out at her, and she shifted to the side. Her hold on me never altered. “What the hell are you doing?” I rasped. “Let me go!”
“Ms. Tamwood!” Glenn shouted. “Drop the woman and step to the center of the room!”
Digging my fingers into her one-handed grip, I looked past Ivy. Glenn was behind her, his feet braced, ready to shoot. “No!” my voice grated. “Get out. Get out of here!”
Ivy wouldn’t listen to me if he was here. She was afraid. What the hell was she afraid of? Trent couldn’t touch me.
There was a sharp whistle of surprise as Jenks darted in. “Howdy, campers,” he said sarcastically. “I see Rachel told you about her run, huh, Ivy?”
“Get out!” I demanded, my head pounding as Ivy’s grip tightened.
“Holy crap!” the pixy exclaimed from the ceiling, his wings flashing into a frightened red. “She’s not kidding.”
“I know…” Lungs hurting, I pried at the fingers around my neck, managing a ragged breath. Ivy’s pale face was drawn. The black of her eyes was total and absolute. And laced with fear. Seeing the emotion on her was terrifying.
“Ivy, let her go!” Jenks demanded as he hovered at eye level. “It’s not that bad, really. We’ll just go with her.”
“Get out!” I said, taking a clean breath as Ivy’s eyes went confused and her grip faltered. Panic took me as her fingers shook. Sweat trickled down her forehead, pinched in confusion. The whites of her eyes showed strong against the black.
Jenks darted to Glenn. “You heard her,” the pixy said. “Get out.”
My heart raced as Glenn hissed, “Are you crazy? We leave, and that bitch will kill her!”
Ivy’s breath came in a whimper. It was as soft as the first snowflake, but I heard it. The smell of cinnamon filled my senses.
“We gotta get out of here,” Jenks said. “Either Rachel will get Ivy to let go, or Ivy will kill her. You might be able to separate them by shooting Ivy, but Ivy will track her down and kill her the first chance she gets if she overthrows Rachel’s dominance.”
“Rachel is dominant?”
I could hear the disbelief in Glenn’s voice, and I frantically prayed they’d get out before Ivy finished throttling me.
The buzz of Jenks’s wings was as loud as my blood humming in my ears. “How else do you think Rachel got Ivy to back off of you? You think a witch could do that if she wasn’t in charge? Get out like she said.”
I didn’t know if dominant was the right word. But if they didn’t leave, the point would be moot. The honest to God’s truth was, in some twisted fashion Ivy needed me more than I needed her. But the “dating guide” Ivy had given me last spring so I would stop pressing her vamp-instinct buttons hadn’t had a chapter on “What to Do If You Find Yourself the Dominant.” I was in uncharted territory.
“Get—out,” I choked as the edges of my sight shifted to black.
I heard the safety click back on. Glenn reluctantly holstered his weapon. As Jenks flitted from him to the rear door and back again, the FIB officer retreated, looking angry and frustrated. I stared at the ceiling and watched the stars edging my sight as the screen door squeaked shut.
“Ivy,” I rasped, meeting her eyes. I stiffened at their black terror. I could see myself in their depths, my hair wild and my face swollen. My neck suddenly throbbed under her fingers where they pressed against my old demon bite. God help me, but it was starting to feel good, the remembrance of the euphoria that had surged through me last spring as the demon sent to kill me had ripped my neck open and filled it with vamp saliva.
“Ivy, open your fingers a little so I can breathe,” I managed, spittle dripping down my chin. The heat from her hand made the smell of cinnamon stronger.
“You told me to let him go,” she snarled, baring her teeth as her grip tightened until my eyes bulged. “I wanted him, and you made me let him go!”
My lungs tried to work, moving in short splurges as I struggled for air. Her hold slackened. I took a grateful gulp of air. Then another. Her face was grim, waiting. Dying with a vampire was easy. Living with one took more finesse.
My jaw ached where it rested upon her fingers. “If you want him,” I whispered, “go get him. But don’t break your fast in anger.” I took another breath, praying it wouldn’t be my last. “Unless it’s for passion, it won’t be worth it, Ivy.”
She gasped as if I had hit her. Face thunderstruck, her grip loosened without warning. I fell into a heap against the wall.
Hunching into myself, I gagged on the air. I felt my throat, my stomach knotting as the demon bite on my neck continued to tingle in bliss. My legs were askew, and I slowly straightened them. Sitting with my knees to my chest, I shook my charm bracelet back to my wrist, wiped the spit from me, and looked up.
I was surprised to find Ivy still there. Usually when she broke down like this, she went running to Piscary. But then, she had never broken down quite like this before. She had been afraid. She had pinned me to the wall because she had been afraid. Afraid of what? Of me telling her she couldn’t tear out Glenn’s throat? Friend or not, I’d leave if I saw her take someone in my kitchen. The blood would give me nightmares forever.
“Are you okay?” I rasped, hunching into myself when it triggered a spate of coughing.
She didn’t move, sitting at the table with her back to me. She had her head in her hands.
I had figured out shortly after we had moved in together that Ivy didn’t like who she was. Hated the violence even as she instigated it. Struggled to abstain from blood even as she craved it. But she was a vampire. She didn’t have a choice. The virus had fixed itself deep into her DNA and was there to stay. You are what you are. That she had lost control and let her instincts have sway meant failure to her.
“Ivy?” I got to my feet, listing slightly as I stumbled to her. I could still feel the impressions of her fingers around my neck. It had been bad, but nothing like the time she had pinned me to a chair in a cloud of lust and hunger. I pushed my black bow back where it belonged. “You all right?” I reached out, then drew back before touching her.
“No,” she said as my hand dropped. Her voice was muffled. “Rachel, I’m sorry. I—I can’t…” She hesitated, taking a ragged breath. “Don’t take this run. If it’s the money—”
“It’s not the money,” I said before she could finish. She turned to me, and my anger that she might