Dante inclined his head. "I know."
"She was almost gone by the time that you--Well, you saved her, and that's what matters," Savannah said, adopting a serene tone that didn't quite mask the discomfort she was feeling after reading the terrible details of Tess's attack. "If you need anything at all, Dante, just ask. Gabrielle and I will do whatever we can to help."
He nodded, already going back to work on Tess's wounds with the damp cloth. He heard the women leave, and the space around him went still with the weight of his thoughts. He didn't know how long he remained at Tess's side--easily hours. He cleaned her up and toweled her off, then climbed in bed next to her and stretched out against her, just watching her sleep and praying that she would open her beautiful eyes for him again soon.
A hundred thoughts went through his mind as he lay there, a hundred promises he wanted to make to her. He wanted her to be safe always, to be happy. He wanted her to live forever. With him, if she'd have him; without, if that was the only other way. He would look after her as long as he was able, and if --more likely when--the death that stalked him finally caught up to him, he would have already seen to it that there would always be a place for Tess among the Breed.
God, was he actually thinking about the future?
Planning for it?
It seemed so strange that, after spending his entire life living like there was no tomorrow, convinced that at any second there would be no tomorrow, all it took was one woman to throw all of that fatalistic thinking right over a cliff. He still believed death was around the corner--he knew it with the same clarity that his mother knew her own death and that of her mate--but one extraordinary woman had made him hope like hell that he was wrong.
Tess made him wish that he had all the time in the world, so long as he could spend every second of it with her.
She had to wake up soon. She had to get better, because he had to make things right with her. She had to know how he felt, what she meant to him--and what he'd done to her, by binding them together in blood. How long should it take for his blood to absorb into her body and begin its rejuvenation? How much would she need? She had taken only the smallest amount in the ride to the compound, just the few scant drops he could work into her mouth and down her slack throat. Maybe she needed more.
Using the dagger next to him on the nightstand, Dante scored a fresh line on his wrist. He pressed the bleeding cut to Tess's lips, waiting to feel her respond, wanting to curse to the rafters when her mouth remained unmoving, his blood dripping down, useless, onto her chin.
"Come on, angel. Drink for me." He stroked her cool cheek, brushed a tangle of her honey-blond hair from her forehead. "Please live, Tess... drink, and live."
A throat cleared awkwardly from the area near the bedroom doorjamb. "I'm sorry, the uh... the door was open."
Chase. Just f**king great. Dante couldn't think of anyone he'd like to see less right now. He was too entrenched in what he was doing--in what he was feeling--to deal with another interruption, particularly one coming from the Darkhaven agent. He'd hoped the bastard was already long gone from the compound, back to where he came from--preferably with one of Lucan's size-fourteens planted all the way up his ass. Then again, maybe Lucan was saving the privilege for Dante instead.
"Get out," he growled.
"Is she drinking at all?"
Dante scoffed, low under his breath. "What part of `get out' did you fail to understand, Harvard? I don't need an audience right now, and I sure as hell don't need any more of your bullshit."
He pressed his wrist to Tess's lips again, parting them with the fingers of his free hand in the hopes that she might take some of his blood by mild force. It wasn't happening. Dante's eyes stung as he stared down at her. He felt wetness streaking his cheeks. Tasted the salt of tears gathering at the corner of his mouth.
"Shit," he muttered, wiping his face into his shoulder in a strange mix of confusion and despair.
He heard footsteps coming up near the bed. Felt the air around him stir as Chase reached out his hand. "It might work better if you tilt her head, like th--"
"Don't... touch her." The words came out in a voice Dante hardly recognized as his own, it was so full of venom and deadly warning. He swiveled his head around and met the agent's eyes, his vision burning and sharp, his fangs having stretched long in an instant.
The protective urge boiling through him was fierce, utterly lethal, and Chase evidently understood at once. He backed off, hands raised in front of him. "I'm sorry. I meant no harm. I only wanted to help, Dante. And to apologize."
"Don't bother." He turned back to Tess, miserable with worry and craving solitude. "I don't need anything from you, Harvard. Except your absence."
A long silence answered, and for a moment Dante wondered if the agent had actually slunk away as he hoped. No such luck.
"I understand how you feel, Dante."
"Do you." "I think so, yes. Now I think I understand a lot of things that I didn't before."
"Well, good for you. Fucking brilliant of you, former Agent Chase. Write it up in one of your pointless reports and maybe your buddies in the Darkhavens will pin a goddamn medal of commendation on you. Harvard finally clues in on something."
The vampire chuckled wryly, without rancor. "I've f**ked up, I know. I've lied to you and to the others, and I've jeopardized this mission because of personal, selfish motives. It was wrong, what I did. And I want you to know--especially you, Dante--that I'm sorry."
Dante's pulse was hammering with fury, and with fear for Tess's condition as well, but he did not lash out at Chase as impulse made him want to do. He heard the contrition in the male's voice. And he heard humility, something generally on short order with Dante himself. Until now. Until Tess.