Runaway Vampire (Argeneau, #23)(55)
Bailey whimpered again, this time licking his hand, and Dante turned back and gave the dog a quick, reassuring pet, then undid Mary’s seat belt.
“It’s all right Bailey,” he said as he scooped Mary into his arm. “Come on, let’s get her out of here.”
Dante straightened slowly with Mary in his arms, and then paused. The RV was lying on the side where the only door was situated. The only way out was through one of the windows. The front windshield was the obvious choice. It was huge. He’d guess about eight feet wide and five feet high. At least it was when the RV was upright. Right now, with the vehicle on its side, the opening was eight feet high and five wide. But there were shards of glass still in the frame, most of them small pieces, but a couple of larger ones that he had to be careful of.
“Come on, Bailey,” Dante murmured and carefully maneuvered his way through the opening, moving slowly to ensure he didn’t scrape Mary up against any of the glass shards. Once outside, he paused to glance back, frowning with concern when he saw that while Bailey was following, she was moving very slowly, and limping and whimpering in pain as she did. She’d obviously not escaped unscathed, but she was still mobile, so he left her to follow at her own speed and carried Mary several feet away from the vehicle to lay her in the grass.
Kneeling beside Mary, Dante began to run his hands over her, searching for injuries. His heart began to sink as he realized there were many of them. The blood was not all from the bags. She had cuts, bruises, broken bones, and a fearsome head wound, he saw as he turned her face to see both sides. What scared him most, however, was the jagged piece of glass he found protruding from her side. The blood was oozing out around the glass. Too much blood. Her weak heartbeat was growing slower with each beat.
“Mary,” he whispered helplessly, and then did the only thing he could; Dante slid one hand under her neck so that her head fell back and her mouth dropped open, then he raised his other wrist in front of his mouth, let his canines descend and bit viciously into his own flesh. Dante pressed the gushing wound to her open mouth, and kept it there, hunching over her protectively as the RV exploded behind him.
Twelve
Mary smiled sleepily and reached up to pet Bailey when the dog ran a wet tongue up her cheek. She frowned in confusion, however, when her hand encountered a curtain of long soft hair instead of short, dog fur. Blinking her eyes open, she peered blankly at Dante. He was leaning over her, but his head was presently turned away as he did something out of her line of vision. When he swung his head back, his eyes widened as he saw that she was awake, and then chagrin filled his expression.
“I am sorry. I was hoping to clean you up before you woke, but I did not intend to wake you. I expected you to be unconscious for a couple more hours at least.”
“Clean me?” Mary asked weakly, sure she’d misunderstood.
“Yes.” Dante raised a washcloth she hadn’t noticed in his hand and gave her face another swipe. “Francis, Russell and I were so busy trying to hold you down and keep you from harming yourself I did not get the chance before now. You only calmed this morning and by then we were so exhausted . . .” He shrugged. “But when I woke from my rest and saw your face I thought I’d best clean it. I did not want you to wake up, see your face all covered with blood and . . . What?” he asked uncertainly when she suddenly closed her eyes with relief.
“I thought you were licking my face,” she admitted.
“What?” he asked with disbelief.
“Well, really I thought Bailey was licking my face, but then when I opened my eyes and it was you here I—” She shook her head and waved the matter away. “Never mind. I have more urgent matters to attend to. Where is the bathroom?”
“Oh, it is there,” Dante said, turning to gesture to a door in the wall behind him.
The moment he turned his face away, Mary tossed the blankets and sheets aside. All she had on was an overlarge T-shirt. She’d rather been hoping for more than that, perhaps joggers and a T-shirt or something else that would cover her from throat to toes. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Equally unfortunately, she had to relieve herself so badly that she couldn’t wait for him to leave so that she could get up. So, Mary leapt from the bed and sped around it to dash to the bathroom door. She was inside and slamming it closed so quickly she even impressed herself. Adrenaline was apparently a truly amazing thing, Mary thought as she hiked up the T-shirt and dropped to sit on the toilet.
As she tore some toilet paper off the roll, Mary remembered a time when she was young and being chased by a boy at school. He was known to like to grab the boobs of all the girls while they were out on the playground at recess. Mary had seen him coming up behind her one day, hands out and at the ready, and she’d taken off at a dead run. Her feet had moved so fast they’d barely touched the ground. It had felt to her as if she’d almost just flown across the playground.
Mary hadn’t thought she still had it in her. But it seemed even an old broad could practically fly when faced with humiliation. And having handsome, young-looking Dante get a gander at her dimpled thighs was definitely a humiliating prospect to her. He was so damned perfect, and she so wasn’t.
Grimacing, she finished her business, flushed the toilet, and stood to wash her hands. It was as she soaped her hands that Mary actually looked at any part of herself for the first time, and then she paused and frowned with confusion. Her hands were pale and as smooth as a baby’s bottom, the nails long.