Annie Nicholas - Sigma

She twisted around and whispered, “You were there?” With her blue eyes wide, she appeared very young, but vampires were experts at fooling people. Clementine could be five hundred years old, for all he knew. With a wig, Daedalus looked twenty, younger than Sugar. He chuckled at the memory and recalled the expression of horror on Sugar’s face. “It happened in my old apartment.”

“You’re one of the original Omegas?”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.” They’d had five pack members at the beginning, before Daedalus came and changed everything. Now they numbered in the triple digits and were called the Vasi. He pointed at her wound. “Can you bleed to death?”

She rolled back onto her stomach. “No, but I’ll need to feed before the blood lust takes over me. You have to remove the bullet.”

He grabbed the edge of her shirt and tore it open, exposing her back.

She hissed and glared at him over her shoulder. “I could have taken it off.”

Pasting mock surprise on his face, he laid a hand on his chest. “Where’s the fun in that?” Not waiting for her response, he went into the bathroom and washed off his pocketknife. A pair of tweezers would have been handy. And some gauze. He grabbed a face cloth instead. “Do I need to sterilize my knife or find some antiseptic?”

“I’m a vampire. Disease doesn’t plague us.”

He shrugged off her prickly tone, betting she was as gentle as the sound of her name on his lips. “Good, because I can’t provide either.” On his knees, he straddled her legs and leaned forward to examine her wound. He planted his palm between her shoulder blades.

“What–” She struggled under him. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want you to move.” Using his shifter strength, he shoved her flat against the bed and wiped the blood away. “Stop wiggling so much. It’s distracting.”

“Not like you can do more damage.” Her words came out muffled.

“No, but you’re turning me on.”

She went limp, her breathing heavy and strained.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. This shitty day was getting better. Using the tip of the pocketknife, he gently probed her wound. “Tell me if it hurts.” The hole in her flesh was deep. It appeared as if her backbone had absorbed the impact of the bullet. Damn, vampires were tough.

A few years ago, he would have fainted at the idea of digging out bullets from damsels in distress. So much had changed since the small pack of omegas hired a Nosferatu warrior as a teacher.

Eric had become alpha of Chicago and married his high school crush, serious Robert fell in love with a slayer, of all things, and Tyler finally found the balls to ask Katrina to marry him.

And Daedalus stole Sugar’s heart.

Not that Sam had ever owned it. She was better off with the wealthy and powerful vampire. Safer. Sam just fucked everything up.

His heart didn’t belong to anyone but himself.

The knife clinked against metal and Clementine jerked.

He wiped the area clean to get a better visual. “The bullet’s entrenched, but I should be able to ease it out with a few simple cuts. This will hurt. Maybe I should call Daedalus first and have him knock you out with some Nosferatu mental voodoo.”

She laughed. A quiet, sorrowful sound that grabbed him low in the gut. “I can take the pain. I don’t need my master to hold my hand.”

There it was again. Master. The title irked him more than it should. From what little he knew of vampire society, most weren’t free. Their masters owned them, kept them under control, so the human population wouldn’t fear and hunt them like the old days. It had never occurred to Sam that Daedalus owned some. Bet the others didn’t think about it either.

Clementine clenched the sheets in her hands. “I’ll do my best not to scream.”

“Don’t worry. In this part of town, they’re used to it.”

As she twisted around to glare at him, he pried the bullet from her flesh and popped it out.

Eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a silent scream exposing her delicate kitten-like fangs, she shuddered under his body.

His heart wrenched at the sight and a wave of nausea rocked him. He didn’t get off on pain. Though, he’d love to see that expression on her face once more, but this time in ecstasy, not agony. He shook his head. He could be a sick bastard sometimes.

Fresh blood pooled in her wound as she squirmed once more. “Get off me.” Her ass bucked against his cock, sending a jolt of lust straight to his balls.

He’d never had a vampire–odd, considering his low standards. As long as it was female and willing, he’d bed anyone once. Letting his fingers trail along her skin, he held her down a little longer. A small subliminal suggestion of what he could offer.

“Asshole.” She rolled him off with a sharp twist of her hips.

He fell next to her. “At your service.” Sticks and stones couldn’t break his bones, and name-calling wouldn’t hurt him.

Clutching her tattered shirt to her chest, she sat on the edge of the bed and dialed the room phone. “Master?”

Sam moaned and rested his forearm over his eyes. It was better for her to explain what happened. He didn’t need to hear more bitching from the Nosferatu.

“We’re at Motel Twelve by the park. Sam’s car wouldn’t start and I was too injured to walk.” She remained silent, listening. “My car was too damaged to drive.”

Squeezing his eyes tight, he kept quiet. God, he hadn’t even thought to take her car. It didn’t seem in that bad of condition. He peeked at her. She’d lied for him.

“Sam’s taking good care of me. The bullet is out and he’s offered to feed me.” She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

He nodded, a little dumbfounded. Gratitude and shame knotted his chest, considering only a few minutes ago he’d been thinking of her as just a possible fuck.

“Okay, we’ll be here.” She hung up. “Daedalus will come as soon as he has Sugar settled at home.”

What was with the human worship? It sounded like a party in the background as she’d spoken with her master. Someone else besides him could watch Sugar for the thirty minutes it would take to retrieve them. The room darkened as her vision tunneled. She gripped the edge of the bed and shook her head.

“Clementine?”

“Lightheaded.” She waved Sam’s hand away. His touch stirred too many unexplainable desires. They’d barely met, under terrible circumstances. However, her skin still tingled wherever he’d touched her.

Closing her eyes made the dizziness worse. How much blood had she lost? She glanced at Sam, who lounged on the bed in his torn clothes. “None of this fazes you, does it? The fighting, the running, the gunshots?”

He shrugged. “A few years ago, it would have. Life’s hard in the pack. It’s adapt or perish.” He eyed her as if trying to figure out what species of bug she belonged to. “Thanks for explaining things to Daedalus. We don’t get along too well. He’s not my biggest fan.”

A hot flush washed over her. From lack of blood or from his gratitude, she wasn’t sure. Drinking from him, pressed against his strong, muscled body, would be a fantasy come true. What female hadn’t dreamed of a wild shifter in bed?

Except when imagination and reality collided, all her hidden insecurities suddenly jumped out and did the conga. She was plain for a vampire: short brown hair, little boobs, too much junk-in-the-trunk. Not exactly a vixen of the night those stupid human movies portrayed.

She needed to feed and Sam had agreed to her backhanded request. Licking her lips, she knelt on the mattress. “Where would you like me to bite?”

A crooked, sensual smile spread across his mouth. “Are you always this polite to your meals, Clementine?”