Getting up off the bed, Alicia stepped out on the balcony and slipped over to the other set of glass doors that led into Damon’s bedroom. What she saw made her heart spill out on the floor.
Damon slammed the bedroom door and ripped off his black shirt, flinging it across the room. Several bullets that had been lying loose inside the shirt hit the floor and walls as he did so. His body had been consistently pushing them out of his flesh in an effort to heal. He took a deep breath and looked down at the bloody holes in painful distaste. It was the bullets that were still being pushed that were causing the wounds not to close.
Seeing a bullet sticking halfway out of his chest, he pulled it out the rest of the way. He gripped the bed post so tight with his other hand that the wood began to splinter and crack. If not for the werewolf blood he’d drunk earlier, he would be on his knees screaming bloody murder right now. Come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t have made it out of that mansion.
The blood of a paranormal being held more of a power boost than human blood, but it was obvious if he wanted to heal faster, then he was going to have to find more blood. No one had ever accused him of being patient.
With a grunt, Damon dropped the bullet he’d just pulled out onto the floor and went to the closet to get another shirt. All he found in there were some pullover sweaters… he pulled the black one from the hanger and put it on before heading toward the balcony doors.
Alicia had cupped her hand over her mouth to avoid crying out when she saw the amount of damage done to Damon’s chest. Some of the bullet holes were still bleeding and some of them were actually pushing the bullets out of his skin. No wonder he’d cringed when she’d hit him. She felt a flash of pain clinch at her chest. How could she be so cruel?
She started to open the door but paused when Damon turned around and grabbed a sweater from the closet and jerked it on. She really wanted to cry when she saw his bloody back, which was in worse shape than his chest. How many times had she hit him on the back before they’d made it to her room? Alicia felt her knees weaken at the thought.
When he started walking toward the balcony doors, she quickly moved to the side and spun around, leaning back against the brick wall between the two glass doors. Laying her hand on her own uninjured chest, she held her breath and hoped that he didn’t come outside and catch her spying on him.
Her panic quickly gave way to hurt… then anger and confusion. Damon had lied to her back at the mansion… all that blood had been his. Why would he do that? Why would he shield her and then not tell her that he was hurt? He could have gotten himself killed… and for what? To save her?
Alicia’s eyes widened when the balcony doors suddenly flew open and Damon leaped up on the thick ledge of the terrace facing the street below. He balanced on the solid railing but, before he could push off, he felt her presence behind him. He could feel all those emotions in her aura and sighed… he was tired and hurt and didn’t feel like fighting with her anymore tonight.
“Michael erased their memory of you being there tonight. If you go running back to Micah before they call you… you’ll undo everything he’s done to help you. If you won't stay here for me… then at least do it for Michael.” With that said, Damon flipped off the balcony and down to the grass below.
Alicia gasped and ran to the stone railing, looking down as he tumbled blindly. Her eyes widened and she gripped the stone when she realized that Damon’s blind tumbling wasn’t as blind as she thought. His arms shot out and it looked like he was pulling at the shadows around him, wrapping them close… then vanishing before he hit the ground.
Alicia searched the darkness for him, ready to follow the moment she saw him, but there was nothing… not even the sound of footsteps. She felt sorry for him and the pain he’d put himself through for her tonight.
She wrapped her arms around herself suddenly feeling more alone than she’d been ready for and wishing desperately he hadn’t left. She needed to say she was sorry… she wanted to say thank you and she really wanted to hit him again for not letting her know he’d been wounded. Where was he going? What did vampires do when they were hurt?
He wanted her to stay and do what Michael had asked. With a sigh, she decided to obey for once… but she wasn’t doing it for Michael.
Turning away from the balcony ledge, Alicia went back into her room and sat down on the bed. She stared at the phone for a few moments wondering what she should do if it rang. Should she even answer it? What if it wasn’t Michael? What if it was someone like Warren or Quinn calling for Michael and she answered the phone?
Damon was right… she owed them both enough to at least wait until morning before she made any decisions or did something she wasn’t supposed to. She remembered the edge in Michael’s voice when he’d told Damon to take her home. No one had wanted her there tonight except maybe Damon… one more thing she could thank Damon for.
Wanting time to pass quicker, she got up and changed into a thin nightshirt. Pulling back the covers on the bed, she laid down and tried to go to sleep. It soon became too hot even though she’d left the balcony doors open to let in the cool breeze. For almost an hour, she tossed and turned and finally lifted a hand to wipe away the perspiration on her forehead.
Her skin felt hotter than it should have been so she threw the blankets off in an effort to cool herself down. Getting frustrated, she balled the covers up until they were like a long body pillow then rolled on her side, hugging it and throwing one leg over it. She started rocking against the blanket, liking the feel of it between her thighs and hugged it even tighter.
Alicia’s eyes snapped open when she suddenly recognized the symptoms of what she was going through. She’d read about it and seen one of her friends at school go through it.
“No…” she whispered feeling fear slice through her at the mere thought. “Please don’t let me be going into heat.”
*****
Damon raced through the shadows across the city, heading toward the darkest slums in the search for something or someone that needed killing. He tried to block Alicia from his mind but it seemed every minute he spent close to her, the deeper she crawled under his skin. The strangest part was… he liked her there.
He’d built his life around not caring about anything… or anyone. He’d also prided himself for making it a rule to take what he wanted. He wanted her and she needed to stop tempting the devil. When he’d fallen from the balcony, he’d prayed she was smart enough not to follow him. Luckily, the girl knew a little about self-preservation.
He finally reached his goal: a rundown area of Los Angeles. Damon kept to the dark edge of the sidewalk, smirking when the police cars drove by and everyone would vanish. As soon as the cops were out of sight, the scum of the earth would come back out of hiding and it was back to business as usual.
Damon sneered at two scantily-clad women and kept walking when they tried to entice him with their bodies. Perhaps a few weeks ago he might have vaguely considered it, but now… he wanted nothing to do with the opposite sex. The thought of drinking from either of them left him feeling slightly sick.
Rounding a corner, Damon noticed two thugs up ahead and that they both looked his way as he approached. Now this was more what he was in the mood for.
“How’s it going,” one of them asked in a deep voice. He had his hands deep in his coat pockets expecting a sale of drugs. When he caught a glimpse of the man’s wild eyes, he decided to drop it figuring this guy had already gotten his drugs elsewhere.
Damon didn’t answer and kept walking. He knew what was coming and was looking forward to it. These two guys were probably kings on this street with their bulging muscles and dark flat eyes. He could smell the old blood on their clothing and see the scarred knuckles bullies always carried. Yep, they were probably legends within their own minds.
“Hey,” the second one yelled, “my friend asked you a question.”
“And my silence