Chapter 38

Becca was floating. She heard distant sounds of voices and feet shuffling quietly. Once in a while she caught the sound of crinkling plastic.

She wasn't dead. Instead of being elated, she was frightened. Becca had seen bad burns before. If the person lived it was an incredibly painful process of skin grafting and debriding of dying flesh, all in vain if secondary infection set in. Terrified of what she would find if she opened them, Becca kept her eyes closed.

The monitor attached to her beeped erratically as her pulse raced. She couldn't feel the flesh of her arm where something put pressure on bandages and she heard the beeping echo the slowing of her heart.

She swallowed. Michael had survived. With the crisis behind them she felt her tightly controlled emotions unraveling. A tear leaked out from under her lids, burning as the salt ran across the scalded flesh of her face.

Michael's voice was rough and close when he spoke. "Becca, open your eyes."

Becca held her breath, not wanting him to see how close she was to imploding. If it weren't for his hand steadying her, she would completely lose it.

"Honey, please. Open your eyes."

The desire to look upon his face won out over her fear of seeing herself. Becca cracked her eyes, the corners burned as the seared flesh stuck to itself.

Michael's dark blue eyes were less than a foot from hers, filling her entire field of vision. He failed to hide his concern from her.

"The helicopter got there just in time with the water bucket. Black and Ryan wouldn't let me go in after you." His eyes went black for a flash, he blinked and the returned to blue when he opened them. "I thought I lost you."

Becca wanted to tell him it was okay. She could feel the damage in her throat and she didn't want to lie. He still might lose her if the burns were as bad on the rest of her body. The fact that she wasn't intubated told her the medical staff most likely agreed and were letting her say her good byes.

"The doctors have you pretty doped up on morphine for the pain. Can you feel it?" His eyes searched hers.

Not wanting him to suffer more than he already was, she closed her eyes and moved her head only the tiniest of increments to either side.

Relief never touched his features.

She wanted to know and she didn't. But Becca wasn't really one to shy from reality for long. Finding the well-worn path in her mind, she jumped. And saw her face. It was impossible to hide her reaction.

Most of her hair had burned away. The red, shiny flesh of her face was waxy and tight. Michael must have anticipated that she'd do that because he kept his eyes on her face, not giving her access to the rest of herself.

Ignoring the pain in her throat, Becca tried to talk. "Look at me."

Michael might not be able to cry, that didn't mean he didn't want to. To grieve for her, to have that release that tears offered and the cruel fates reserved only for those among the living. These were the last words he would hear from her before they intubated. It had been a fight to get in here to even have these few moments. He'd been around enough doctors to know why they'd allowed it. He was being given his last good byes.

Obediently, giving her need to know priority over his need to protect her from the pain of the truth, Michael took a step back. He moved away as far as his arm would allow without taking his hand from her arm. He would keep her as calm as he could. It was the least he could do.

Michael let his eyes move from her face down her body nearly entirely wrapped loosely in gauze. Enough red, damaged flesh showed to tell her what she needed to know.

He couldn't bring himself to give her another look and closed his eyes while he brought them back to hers, only opening them again when they were safely back at her eyes. Pain faded in the face of the fear she had of her own death. Michael wished he could kiss her but her lips were so burned the skin could easily tear away with contact.

She mumbled something so faintly even he had to lean in to hear. "What, honey?"

"Is there anything they can do?"

"No, the doctors are doing everything they can." He could do several things and he had been wrestling with the vampire's selfish desires all night. If she wanted him to alter her in any way, he would. And he would wait for her to ask. He would never bring any part of his curse upon her unwillingly.

Another set of tears leaked out from under her lids and he watched her flinch, imagining how the salt burned.

"Is there anything you can do?"

There it was. The question he had hoped for and dreaded.

Placing his lips close enough to keep their conversation private without touching what was left of her ears, Michael told her all that he knew.

"I can turn you and you'll have to die but you will become like me." He hoped she didn't want that. "Or I can give you some of my blood and you will heal. It will still be painful but depending how much I give you, your recovery will be fast and you might not even have much scarring."

Michael remained at her side, watching the monitors while she decided. The doctor parted the plastic tent around her bed.

"I'm sorry sir, it's time. We need to intubate her now before the burns in her trachea make it impossible."

Michael looked into Becca's eyes for a sign of what her answer would be. True to form, she lifted her chin and croaked.

The doctor stared at her, shocked. "I want to go home."

Shaking his head, the doctor was emphatic. "Rebecca, you can't leave the hospital. You have severe burns on over sixty percent of your body. Without proper medical care you'll die."

She didn't flinch. "I'm dying now." Her eyes met Michael's and he saw her decision. She trusted him to save her.

"Give her enough morphine for me to get her out of here," he commanded.

The doctor started to argue until he made eye contact with Michael, then his eyes glazed over and he nodded dumbly.

A drawer in the white cabinet by the bed opened and the doctor fished out a syringe and bottle. He filled it, shot her full of the painkiller, and within a minute, Becca's eyes closed again.

Without delay Michael pulled her IV and monitors off. Scooping her up in her blankets as carefully as possible, he stepped out of the plastic sheeting. Going down the hall would draw too much attention.

It wasn't quite three in the morning and there was very little traffic around the hospital. Michael looked out the second floor window and made his decision. He only had to shift her slightly to open it and step out. He landed softly, absorbing all of the impact in his legs to avoid shifting his precious bundle and ran.

He never broke stride until he reached the estate. Even with his speed and stamina, he was taxed with his efforts by the time he crested the stone steps.

When he entered, Ryan met him at the doors.

"How is...," his voice trailed off as he saw and smelled what Michael held so tenderly in his arms. "Oh my God."

The surety of her fate he saw in Ryan's eyes infuriated him. Michael streaked past him shouting over his shoulder, "Bring me blood. A lot." And he brought her to his room.

It was at the end of the hall and larger than the others. Ryan had joked that was the least they could give him for having to be the go-to for the admiral. Gently he laid her down on the bed, taking a moment to listen to her thready heartbeat. Raising his wrist to his mouth, he flashed his fangs and tore his wrist wide open for a rapid blood flow.

Michael fought the urge to pull his arm away when she moaned painfully at the pressure on her melted lips. At first, he watched the blood leaking out the sides of her mouth, so effectively had the morphine dulled her reactions. Softly he stroked her throat to force her to swallow.

After a few swallows, there was a knock at the door. Michael didn't answer right away and heard it open behind him.

"Here." Ryan held out a donor bag of blood. In his other hand were three more. "Thanks." Michael barely looked away from Becca.

"Are you turning her?"

He stared at her. The look in her eyes had been fearful but sure. She wanted to live. He was certain she wouldn't be angry if he turned her, however, he had interpreted it to mean that she wanted him to help her survive. If he was wrong, so be it. She would be alive enough to fight with him and if she was determined to be a vampire like him, he would turn her then. Not until she actually uttered those words.

"No."

"Good. I like her human." He turned to walk out and called over his shoulder. "She smells better than you."

Michael grunted at him. Vampires did have a hint of a musty odor but it was easily masked with cologne and daily washing. Only a supernatural creature would be able to smell the faint lingering odor of death under that.

The door closed and Michael was left with Becca.

He drank all four pints. Becca had to have consumed at least two from him before he finally pulled away.

Even his immortal patience was taxed as he waited for Becca to awake. The morphine steadily wore off. He smelled it leaving her system and the smell of charred flesh began to give way to hints of her sweet smell he loved. By increments the old gave way to the newly repaired.

It was a full three days before she roused. When she did, he watched her carefully for signs of pain or discomfort. He'd had Ryan bring him a syringe of morphine some time during the day. He'd lost track of the hours.

Her eyes fluttered and slowly opened. Seeing him, she smiled without wincing.

He felt his hope surge as she turned her head toward him with only a small twinge of pain.

"This isn't my room." "It's my room."

Her eyes roved as far as her limited mobility allowed. "I've never been in your room before."

He tried to smile at her. "What a man has to do to get a woman to his room these days." He watched her reaction, listened for wheezing hinting at lung damage.

"You did it."

Automatically he knew she was referring to the fact her heart was still beating. "I assumed this was what you wanted. You didn't want to be like me."

Closing her eyes, she nodded. "That doesn't offend you?"

"No. I'm glad."

She opened her eyes. "Are you sure?"

Nodding back, he found it easy to grin. There was strength under her hoarse speech. "Ryan says you smell better than us."

Becca chuckled weakly. Her brow furrowed. "How is Kyle?"

Michael thought of the conversation he'd had with Admiral Black after they had med evac'd Becca. He'd secured a place for Kyle although not without cost. If ever there was a question of loyalty it was Michael's duty to guarantee it with threat of bodily harm to Becca. That meant he would be the one to make good on it as well. He hoped his gamble was right and that Kyle wouldn't betray his sister. Besides, the kid in the candy

store attitude when they turned him loose on their systems downstairs would at least buy them time before that became an issue.

"He's going to be consulting for us. He's actually waiting downstairs for word on you. He won't go home until he can see you with his own eyes."

"I'd like to see him too. He needs to get home to his family."

"What about you? Do you want to go home for a little while," he asked, hesitant. "A few days off to be with family would be understandable considering all you've been through."

"I'm staying right here. You're my family now. All of you." She averted her eyes shyly, flashing a glance up at him.

"Yes we are." Michael's teeth flashed in a wide smile, he made no effort to curb his relief.

Becca smiled again and tentatively raised a hand covered in the same healing silver and purple marks that covered the better part of her body. Cautious not to stretch the new skin, she set it lightly behind his neck. Michael leaned in, wanting nothing more than to touch her lips, soft once again, hoping this would be one of many more to come.

End

Follow The Admiral's Elite in book 2, Into the Light