Bled Dry (Vegas Vampires #3)(55)
Author: Erin McCarthy

They were on the elevator in five minutes.

“Get off on the floor beneath the penthouse suites,” Ethan told him. “We’ll walk up the stairs from there.”

When they reached the last turn of stairs before the rooftop, an EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY sign glaring at them, Corbin sensed vampire, knew Brittany and Donatelli had to be right ahead of him. Cautiously, he cracked the door open and saw Brittany with her hands tied in front of her, shorter hair sticking straight out in the wind, her stretchy top clinging to her swollen belly.

Closing his eyes for two seconds, he fought the fury, the guilt, the agony of wanting this to end positively. Then he shoved open the door and said coldly, “Move away from my woman, Donatelli.”

Brittany turned and her face reflected relief. “Corbin.”

Donatelli showed no surprise, his stance leisurely, unconcerned. “For once we are on the same side, Atelier. But there is no time to discuss this. We need to get her out of here.”

Brittany was shivering, her teeth chattering, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her. He settled for extracting the sword, removing his overcoat, and draping it over her shoulders. “Everything is fine, ma chйrie ,” he whispered to her, easing her back away from Donatelli, who made no move to stop him.

Her big, black eyes stared at him over her shoulder. I love you , she said, her lips moving silently, as if she wanted to tell him quickly, privately, in case she never had another chance.

That nearly undid him. But he looked away from her, not wanting to let Donatelli out of his view. The Italian looked bemused.

“Now I understand,” he said. “There is no debt, is there, Brittany? You are not a surrogate. You and the Frenchman are lovers. Very, very clever of you.” He smiled at her. “I am impressed. I did notice his scent on you, but I thought it was because you are carrying his child.”

Corbin really wasn’t sure what in hell Donatelli was talking about and he didn’t really care. He just wanted Brittany home, safe, with him. “Whatever you are planning, Donatelli, it ends here. She is leaving with me, and you will have no further contact with her.”

“Actually, she’s leaving with me,” Chechikov said from the doorway, Gwenna held tightly against him, her head squeezed under his armpit.

Donatelli lost his cool insouciance. “Gwenna! Damn it, Gregor, let her go.”

“You betrayed me,” Gregor returned. “You were taking the girl off for yourself. That makes me very angry. Return her to me, and I’ll return this one to you.”

Donatelli’s fists clenched, and there was suddenly sweat on his forehead. He glanced at Gwenna. Corbin held his breath, holding his sword loosely, ready to strike if Donatelli turned over Brittany. But Donatelli just shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Then I’ll kill Gwenna.” Gregor held his own sword in his free hand and he raised it menacingly.

“No!” Donatelli moved toward them, as did Carrick, but Gwenna startled them all by grabbing the sword and yanking it to her neck.

“Don’t bargain for me, Roberto. It’s not worth it. I have no issue with dying. In fact, I’ve wished for a very long time that I were dead.” She tried to look up at Gregor, tried to force the blade closer to her flesh. “Go on, kill me. I welcome it.”

The tension emanating from everyone was palpable. Corbin was impressed with Gwenna’s courage, but also alarmed at the look in her eye. She looked serious. Gregor seemed to understand that as well.

When she said, “I’ll slice my own head off before you can touch Brittany,” he backed away, letting her go as he realized his bargaining chip was no longer worth anything.

“Give me the girl, Donatelli.”

“No.” Donatelli was in front of Brittany, and he put his arm behind him, waving at her to scoot back.

Corbin expected him to rush Donatelli, or grab Gwenna again. Instead, with no hesitation, he swung out with his sword and sliced Donatelli straight across the chest with so much force that blood arched everywhere, blinding Corbin and sending Donatelli crashing backward into Brittany, who screamed.

Wiping his face, Corbin launched himself in front of both Brittany and Donatelli, trusting Ethan and Alexis to get Brittany off the roof. And while it might not be the smartest move to go on the offensive with Gregor, he suspected Chechikov’s desire for the child was greater than his anger at Donatelli. He would step over the Italian and go right for Brittany.

Which Corbin didn’t intend to allow. He raised his own sword and attacked.

Brittany knew she should stop screaming, but she couldn’t seem to turn the volume off. There was just so much blood, it was everywhere, wet and thick, smelling sweet and putrid all at the same time. Donatelli had collided into her, knocking her down onto her butt, and now he was lying on the roof in front of her, his chest looking like he’d had a date with open heart surgery. In the dark ages. He was gored from end to end and she gagged, taking deep little breaths so she wouldn’t vomit the bile that kept crawling up her throat.

But he was a vampire. He would heal. And he had prevented Gregor from striking her. She suspected she had been the monster’s target—that he had intended to just swing out and kill her, then cart her body off in the melee. Easier to haul off a corpse than a kicking and screaming live person.

Alexis pulled Brittany back, away from her father, but that didn’t seem right, to just abandon him, so she fought her sister. Her spindly arms were no match, though, for vampire strength, and Alexis kept hauling her, despite her protestations. It was when Alexis had her a good five feet back from Donatelli, and she had stopped kicking long enough to look up, that she realized Corbin was engaged in battle with Gregor.

“Corbin! Jesus!” she shrieked, trying to break free from Alexis, whirling toward Ethan for help. “Stop him! He’s… ” No match for Gregor , was what she was thinking. Corbin was a lot of things, including sweet, cute, intelligent, and downright fierce in bed, but she didn’t think he could go head to head with a burly Russian double his size.

But the words died on her lips when she noticed that Corbin was a match for Gregor. Holy crap, he was a sword stud. He was doing that French musketeer thing, whirling and jabbing and clanking, moving with skill and confidence, and looking kind of, well, hot. Really hot. Hello. Yet he was still in mortal danger, regardless of the fact that he seemed to be holding his own.

Someone should rescue him, because she was going to croak if he got hurt. Not that he could get permanently hurt, because he was a vampire, but shit, what if Gregor cut off his head? Even a vampire could die if someone really wanted to kill him. She winced as Corbin stumbled backward from a particularly brutal blow. “Oh, geez, Alex, do something.”