Savannah Blood Read online

  CHAPTER 2

  Maggie wakes to a terrible thirst. Licking her lips her tongue is dry, her lips split. She can swear she tastes blood. Stretching her tired and sore limbs she feels her skin slide against such a softness. She immediately knows it is foreign to her own bedroom and freezes. It isn’t the only change. The slight stretch has caused her muscles to scream in pain. All her muscles. Her stomach feels like someone just tried to eviscerate her.

  Opening her eyes looking around the room. The absolute knowledge that she isn’t home striking her. She only knowledge is she has no idea where she actually is. The expensive sheets, soft down comforter and well-appointed surroundings suggest she isn’t in a hospital either.

  ‘Hospital?’ Why would she think she would be in a hospital? Why does her entire body hurt like as if she’d been hit by a truck and maybe stomped on by an ogre for good measure?

  Rhoen Phoenix stands, leaning against the wall for minutes watching her wake up but can’t take his eyes off her. He knows he should, but it makes little difference to his brain right now. All that matters is taking in the sight before him. She has twisted in her sleep pulling the sheet low barely covering her hips, exposing lengthy bits of leg and all of her upper body. And what an upper body. He has seen her breasts before as he picked her up from the ground bleeding to death. She looks much better not covered in blood.

  “Ah you’re awake.” She hadn’t heard the door open but looks up to see a man standing in the doorway. Watching the blush slowly crawl up her neck and color her cheeks he sighs and turns away. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

  Maggie looks down quickly realizing that when she stretched, the sheet previously covering her naked body has pooled at her waist.

  ‘Naked? And who the hell is he?’ Her thoughts racing from her pain to her surroundings.

  “If you’re decent I have some breakfast.”

  “OK.” Maggie pulls the sheet up. Her brain doesn’t seem to want to work very hard. She can’t make it figure out where she is. Who he is, how had she gotten here? Why is she naked? Why in hell is she so thirsty? All of those questions are ignored as she pulls herself to a sitting position. The pain screams across her entire body overwhelming her for a moment. Barely able to hold onto the sheet she closes her eyes trying to will the pain to subside. Slowly, she’s able to push the sensations away so she can focus on the here and now. Her breathing faster, her heart rate rocketing.

  “Are you okay?” He rushes across the room leaving the tray sitting on a chair.

  “I...” Maggie consciously takes slower breaths. “The pain just...got the better of me for a moment.” She stumbles through the words, her voice rough and cracking with the effort.

  “You shouldn't be hurting that much. I'll call my Aunt up.”

  “No, no, it was just a surprise, I guess. Who are you and why am I here?” She manages to speak hoping against hope she’s not here for nefarious purposes. The pain has her just on the edge of panic.

  “You're safe. I'll explain in a little bit. Right now.” He strides back across the room retrieving the food tray. Turning he carries a bed tray across the room and sits it across her lap.

  “I imagine you’re famished.” He says smiling a large smile that does nothing to help her feel at ease.

  “Actually. I’m very thirsty.” No matter how much mud her mind seems to be moving through she did notice the sharp look he gives her at that statement.

  “I have OJ, if that’s alright with you.” He lifts a glass with a straw to her lips.

  Carefully she sips it tasting the contents. The thirst that is crawling across the back of her throat rears up and before she realizes it the glass is empty.

  “Might want to take it a bit slower, let your body adjust.” He says as he sits the glass back down.

  “Why?” She asks keeping the sheet pulled up tight.

  “You’ve been through quite a bit here lately. It’ll take a while for you to get back to normal. Just take it slow.”

  Before she can ask just what it is she has been through. What she needs to take slow. He spoons broth between her lips.

  “Sorry it’s a liquid diet today. Doctor’s orders, maybe tomorrow, if you’re doing better.”

  She wants to slap that smile off his face and demand he tell her something! Her arms however have different ideas. Pushing herself into a sitting position has used all of her strength.

  He slides another spoonful of broth between her lips, and it is either swallow or have it dribble down her chin. She swallows.

  Several minutes pass as he spoons one liquid or another down her throat, every time she opens her mouth to speak.

  “There that should do it.” He pats her lips with a napkin. “Go ahead and rest, I’ll be back later to check on you.”

  “You didn't tell me any...” the words fade off as Maggie feels herself slip down on the mattress and someone tuck the quilt around as her eyes close.

  Carrying the tray out of the room Rhoen holds it easily in one hand. He can’t help himself as he sneaks a last look at her before he pulls the door closed behind him. What he wants to do is stand there and look at her all day. Wincing, he wonders where the hell that thought has come from, then proceeds to the kitchen.

  “She’s resting?”

  “Yes, thank god.” He places the tray on the table as he looks up at his Aunt.

  “I’m still saying it was a mistake bringing her here. She’s too inquisitive! I can barely spoon the broth into her mouth quickly enough to keep her from asking a hundred questions.”

  “You spooned the broth into her mouth?”

  Marguarite barely keeps a smile from spreading across her face.

  “She can hardly feed herself with one hand holding the damn sheet up to cover herself! Plus,” he adds, “she’s really weak.”

  A real laugh sounds behind him and he spins quickly.

  “Oh don’t cop that attitude with me young man.” The woman entering the kitchen pats him on the shoulder.

  “She was too critical to take to a hospital, she would never have made it. What we did saved her life.”

  “Yes, Mother but at what expense?” He falls into a chair.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee, you seem a little stressed. Lauren?” Marguarite asks as she pours herself coffee.

  “Yes, please Aunt Margaurite.” He sighs and tries to relax.

  “We couldn’t let her die.” Margaurite sits a cup of coffee in front of him.

  “Actually, you could have.”

  All three in the kitchen turn as another man enters.

  “Yes, father we could have but then there would have been hell to pay. God knows what they would have done if a cop turned up murdered.”

  “Raphael.” Margaurite smiles his name.

  “Good morning.” Lauren walks over and kisses him gently on the lips.

  “Good morning Margaurite.” Raphael doesn't take his eyes off the woman in front of him catching and holding her hand for a second whispering “Lauren.” His voice deep and soft. He pauses for a moment just to hold her.

  “How are you this morning?” He asks as he pulls her closer then pats her rounded stomach.

  “As well as can be expected. This one had better be a girl.” She scowls at him then smiles as he pulls her down onto his lap as he sits down at the table.

  “If you weren’t my parents, it would be weird. The fact that you are, please, have a little discretion. I’ll be seeing a Shrink for decades.” Rhoen grimaces.

  “How do you think you got here Rhoen? We discovered you under a cabbage plant?” Raphael laughs.

  “That’s what my cousins swore as I grew up. Let’s just pretend.” He teases his parents about the upcoming birth of a brother or sister.

  “How is the girl?” Raphael inquires as Margaurite places a coffee cup in front of him.

  “Better. She is resting again, thankfully.” Margaurite answers.

  “At some point she will have to be allowed to wake up, eventually.” Raphael
responds.

  “Yes, but the blood loss was extensive, let her recover some first. She will be in a bit of pain and very weak when she starts getting up and around. That wound to her abdomen was horrendous. She was lucky he had only started on her.” Marguarite shook her head at the thought of the damage that was done.

  “Yes, and how are we going to handle that?” Lauren inquired of everyone.

  “Rhoen sliced his thumb then slid it over the wound on her abdomen. The tear on her thigh,” she shook her head. “It was just too extensive. He ripped the skin and muscle apart. It'll have to heal the old fashioned way.” Marguarite said as she stirred sugar into her coffee.

  Lauren turned to face her son. Wasn't certain what to make of that, or the ramifications.

  “I’ve taken care of her Boss.” Rhoen said ignoring the look from his mother. “Someone from inside the club saw part of what happened and had called 911. I explained that Dr. Margaurite Stemson just happened to be in the immediate vicinity. Maggie was in such desperate condition that we took her to a private clinic that was closer for treatment.” Rhoen repeats the agreed upon story.

  “Well, none of that is too far from the truth. Although what clinic is she being treated at?” Rafael asks as he nibbles at his wife’s ear lobe.

  “Marsdon is only a few blocks from the club. I called in a favor. No visitors and no information. Which is standard of the Marsdon Clinic anyway. Besides, conveniently Margaurite is on staff there.” Rhoen answers as he rolls his eyes and turns away from his parents.

  “What are you going to tell her?” Margaurite asks and everyone looks at Rhoen.

  “The truth, the killer of four other women in the Savannah area, the one the newspapers have dubbed ‘The Wanna Be Vampire’ attacked her. She’s lucky to be alive.”

  “Wow, this doesn’t look anything like I thought the Marsdon Clinic would look like.” Maggie Dawson stands shakily in the doorway.

  All heads turn at the sound of Maggie’s voice. There she is standing in the doorway to the kitchen wrapped in a white cotton sheet, holding herself up by clutching the door frame.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” Rhoen rushes to her side swooping her into his arms as her legs collapse.

  “Just wanted to see where I am?” She mumbles as the effort to get down the stairs and to the kitchen has exhausted her last resource of strength.

  “Well, you saw. Might I take you back to your room now?” Rhoen asks her, as he holds her close. The chill that the sheet doesn’t hope to dispel seeps out of her. He wants to clutch her to his warmth, protect her.

  He almost drops her as he realizes what he is thinking.

  “Careful Sir Galahad, I’m breakable right now.” The words are barely more than whispers but make Rhoen smile at her as he starts toward the stairs.

  “How in ever did you make it down the stairs without collapsing?” He asks as he starts climbing them with her in his arms.

  Maggie looks into his startlingly emerald, green eyes. Despite the exhaustion plaguing her, she feels her heart start to trip quicker, harder. She had to wonder if he can feel it through the sheet as closely as he is holding her.

  “Very carefully.” Her voice is less than a whisper now and despite the momentary quickening of her heart beat he hears her breathing slow and deepen knowing she has fallen back asleep.

  “Might want to keep a closer watch on her Rhoen.” His father calls from the base of the sweeping staircase.

  Rhoen doesn’t know whether to laugh or growl at him. He does know that he isn’t leaving her side. Not while the possibility of her waking up and taking a stroll through the house, possibly falling and breaking her neck on the way exists.

  “Might want to increase that sedative you’re giving her just a touch sister.” Lauren tells Margaurite as they watch Rhoen carry the girl upstairs.

  “Or not.” Lauren hides her smile behind her coffee cup.

  CHAPTER 3

  Maggie tries stretching again and winces as every muscle, nerve ending and skin cell in her body complains, LOUDLY.

  “Morning.”

  She startles at the voice. Looking around the room for the body the voice belongs to. She spots him sitting on a chair in the far corner of the room.

  “Do you always frown at people when you first wake up? Or is it a temporary thing?”

  Taken aback Maggie blinks. “I. . . I don’t wake up with people to begin with.” She blurts out.

  “That’s good to know.” For some reason that knowledge settles deep making him smile despite himself. “If you’re hungry I’ll get you something to eat.” He stands, moving closer to the bed.

  “You’re him, aren’t you?” Once again, she blurts out something before thinking. Had she hit her head, hard?

  “Depends on who him is.” He smiles and reaches a hand toward her, but she draws back. “I just want to check your temperature.” He waits for her to think about it then lays a hand across her forehead.

  “I would think a thermometer is more accurate.”

  “Probably but I’m not a doctor, I just want to see if you’re feeling warm.” He sits on the edge of the bed. He has sat in the corner the entire night, watching her sleep. He is beginning to feel like a stalker! Once she is awake though he can’t resist coming closer.

  “You’re Rhoen what’s his name, the actor.”

  “I am most certainly not what’s his name. I am however Rhoen Phoenix and yes I have made a movie or two.” He regains his feet and heads toward the door. “If you’re hungry?” He leaves the question hanging.

  “Really thirsty, but first,” she looks around the room for another door.

  “Ah, ablutions.” He moves back toward the bed.

  “Let me help you.”

  “I can do it myself.” Her face flushes a soft rose, showing the absolute horror she is feeling.

  “I’ll just help you to the door. You’re going to be very weak for a while, you lost a lot of blood.”

  Lifting the quilt, she checks to see that she is no longer nude. The brush of the nightgown is soft against her skin and covers her completely. She thinks she remembers something about waking up naked then practically crawling down some stairway. Not altogether certain if it was a dream.

  “Who dressed me?”

  Rhoen barely keeps from laughing. There is no pleasing her. She isn’t happy when she is naked, now she isn’t happy that she is dressed.

  “Aunt Margaurite put the nightgown on you after she decided your wounds are healing sufficiently well. Earlier it was just too inconvenient to have clothing in the way. Cleaning and dressing the wounds and make certain they were not becoming infected, etc.”

  “Why aren’t I in a hospital?” Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembers being attacked but she doesn’t want to go there yet. Better to deal with this first.

  Rhoen stops. “I thought you had overheard that yesterday.”

  “I.” She hesitates briefly. “I don’t remember much other than trying to walk but the rest is pretty much a blur.” While that is true enough, she does remember him. Certain in fact that she will never forget him. His face seems to be tattooed into her brain. Whenever she has woken during the day his face is foremost in her thoughts.

  He notices she is chewing her bottom lip apparently a habit when she is concentrating, or maybe it is worry.

  “How much do you remember from before the injury?” He asks almost wishing she didn't remember anything.

  Her eyes seemed to become unfocused as she concentrated.

  “I don't remember much. The club with some friends, a man. Grass green eyes. I remember grass green eyes, then a lot of pain.”

  “I saw the attack just as you managed to get him off you. You were bleeding so badly my first thought was to call Aunt Margaurite. There was so much blood, and you were unconscious by the time I reached you. She was only a short distance away. Aunt Margaurite is a Doctor. She met us and bandaged you up and brought you here. I’m afraid my knowledge of first aid would
probably have left you dead at the scene.” He believes he might as well explain it up front.

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t take me to a hospital?” She swings her legs over the side of the bed and immediately gasps as her head swims and spots invade her eyesight. Alone it is alarming but add to that is the screaming coming from her left thigh and her stomach. And EVERYTHING seems attached to her stomach muscles right now.

  “Slowly.” Rhoen reaches for her to help steady her. Holding her shoulders gently he can feel the muscles loosen as the pain dissipates some, and her vision improves.

  “Ready?”

  She hesitates slightly. “Yes.”

  He continues to steady her as she stands but lets her do the work. Cautiously Maggie waits seconds for any sign to indicate she should not continue. When it feels ok, she takes one step, then another.

  Rhoen moves with an arm wrapped around her waist. Opening the bathroom door when they approach, he slowly releases her.

  “Better?” He asks ready to step in if she feels too weak.

  “Yes, I’m ok.” She tries to close the door, but he stands in the doorway.

  “You are not standing there.”

  “No, but don’t close the door all the way. I’ll move outside the bedroom but leave the door open. If you need me, just call.”

  Maggie thought about it briefly then nods her assent.

  Taking care of necessities Maggie moves slowly. The unusual feeling of not being able to trust her own body keeps her confused. Finding a toothbrush still in the wrapper and tooth paste she brushes her teeth. Practically moaning it feels so good to rid herself of the muck left behind by the Russian army that had obviously camped there.

  Rinsing her mouth noting the pinkish tint she makes a mental note to see her dentist once she has recovered.

  By the time she is washing her face her legs are trembling and she knows she needs to return to bed. No sooner does she turn and head that way when she starts feeling dizzy.