Chapter 39

Natasha opened the glass door and strode onto the patio with a sandwich and what looked like a milkshake.

“Here.” She handed both to Lynda. “Eat.”

Lynda gulped down half the drink. The vague taste of something chalky hit her, but she was so hungry she didn’t care if it tasted like ground liver at this point.

“What about the others of your clan? How many are still infected?” She lifted the bread to see what was in it. Baloney and cheese. At least she wouldn’t have to pick off any tomatoes because she hated them. Replacing the bread, she then took a bite of the sandwich. If her blood was a cure, she wanted to help as many as she could. But already, she felt like she had the flu and finished a marathon. She leaned back in the chair and chewed her food.

“Too many.” Natasha looked away.

A thorn pressed into Lynda's throat. “Oh. But you can save them with my blood, right?”

Natasha nodded and stood. “We have them locked in a holding room for now with a few guards posted outside.” She walked to the glass half wall, the wind buffeting her dark hair back from her face.

The sun sat low in the sky. In a few hours, it would be night and her princes would awaken. Longing wrapped around her. Damn, she missed Andrei and Pierre and Mihnea. When would it just be them and tangles of sheets?

But for now, the Russians needed her help. No way would she allow people to remain as zombies. She shivered. “How much of my blood do you need? I mean to cure them all?”

Natasha turned from the glass barrier, folded her arms, and leaned her hip against it. “For now, we start small. A vial of an ounce per vamp. If that small amount works, then two pints should be enough for everyone.”

Damn, that was a lot of blood. At least it sounded that way since Lynda didn't know how much blood she'd already lost when Natasha and Boris had chomped on her. She felt the side of her neck. It was smooth, healed, but it throbbed occasionally like it was still open and raw.

“Let's get going then.” The sooner she donated blood the sooner they'd know if it was enough. God, she prayed it would be. ’Cause she had a feeling that once Pierre and Mihnea woke up with the sunset, they'd hate that she was doing this. Taking a risk of donating blood after she'd been attacked. If they knew that she wanted to sleep for a week to feel normal, they'd whisk her out of here and never let her return. And with Dracula pissed, chances were pretty good he'd rip her apart and bathe in her entrails.

“Finish your protein shake and the food.” Natasha pointed to both sitting on the patio chair beside Lynda. “I'll be back with the syringe and a few vials.”

Lynda nodded, her throat dry, but she finished the sandwich and the drink. The food was filling except she couldn't relax. If she hadn't been so tired, she'd have paced the small patio.

“Ready?” Natasha returned carrying a small tray of medical supplies including a long ass needle.

“Yup.” Fear froze her insides. What if this didn't work? Or she took so much of her blood to heal just one zombie? Or if it had been a fluke with Boris and Natasha. Like they'd been so newly zombified that her blood had cured them.

“Try and relax.” Natasha opened a package and removed a needle then screwed on one of the vials.

“H-have you done this before?” Her gaze didn't leave the needle that seemed larger than any she'd seen in the past when she had to give blood. What if Natasha went too deep or collapsed a vein?

Instead of answering, Natasha opened an alcoholic cotton pad and grabbed Lynda's arm. She swiped the cleaner over her skin, then wrapped a rubber band around her arm.

“Relax.” She tapped at Lynda's inner elbow. “Just a sting and it'll be over.”

Easy for her to say. She wasn't the one becoming a pin cushion for a roomful of zombies.

Lynda looked away to the horizon. The sun sank lower and her lovers would awaken. Her hope was that all this monster mess would be over by then. She could pretend it hadn't happened and find solace in their arms.

The needle pinched into her arm. She winced with a short gasp. She glanced around as the crimson blood filled the vial until Natasha plugged another one in and then another.

“There.” Natasha eased the needle out of Lynda's arm. “That's enough for now.”

“How long before you know if you need any more?” She held out her arm while Natasha put a band-aid over the puncture mark. Her guess was since it was such small doses, her blood might be like an antibiotic rather than an immediate cure. But shit, she hoped for the latter.

“Don't know. But we'll use one vial on one of them. See what happens.” She shrugged. “Then if there's no change, we'll give the second and wait. Then the third. I'd say by predawn we should have an idea how much blood each victim needs to cleanse the toxin from them.”

And what if it took so much more blood than Natasha thought? What if the virus was a time bomb, killing the host in a matter of days like Pierre's Elizabeth?

Would the Russians expect her to give more blood than was safe in order to save their people?

Natasha left the patio, and Lynda stared at the clouds drifting past. Dark clouds drifted closer full of the promise of rain and a storm.

Unease spread through Lynda's middle. She wanted to be home with her men, but for now, the Russians helped shelter them from Dracula. There was nowhere else to go. No other allies nearby that she knew of who would be able to hold their own against the master vampire. Except now there were fewer of them.

Wait. What if Dracula had done this? Had sent the woman with the poisoned blood here and had her contaminate the blood supply when the Russians figured out about the donors?

Her hand flew to her mouth. What if Dracula wanted the Russians out of the way so that she and his sons would have no allies?

If she was right, then that meant Dracula was probably going to show up here tonight to finish what he started including murdering her.

What terrified her more than dying was Pierre, Andrei, or Mihnea hurting. Of their sadistic father killing them. That made her skin feel hot and tight. Her heart hurt so bad she pressed the palm of her hand to her breastbone to ease the pain, but it didn’t help. It hurt like it would burst through her chest and leave her exposed, showing Dracula that she loved his sons and would do anything to keep them safe.