“Either turn her fully or let her die.”

Gabriel gasped. He took a step toward the doctor, ready to throttle him. “Let her die?” Before he could lay hands on Drake, Samson put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Gabriel. Stop.”

He spun around to face Samson. “You can’t let her die.” Even as he said it, he knew what he was planning to do was against his own beliefs: to give a human a choice. But he wasn’t planning on giving her that choice. Hell, she wasn’t conscious to make this choice for herself.

Samson gave him a sad smile. “Then she has to be turned fully. Do you really want that responsibility?”

Gabriel swallowed. “You would prefer dealing with the guilt of letting her die?” He’d rather deal with the guilt of knowing he kept her alive as a vampire.

“Turning her means imposing your will on her.” As if Gabriel didn’t know that himself.

Samson continued, “The rogue has already taken her choices away. Are you gonna do the same? Are you prepared to make that choice for her? What if she’d rather die?”

“What if she’d rather live?” Gabriel countered.

What if I want her to live?

“Do you really want to play God?”

While he knew Samson to be a man who believed in God, Gabriel had lost his faith a long time ago. But he’d never lost his sense of right and wrong, good and bad. Letting her die now was wrong. “I’m prepared to play the Devil if it means she’ll live.” Gabriel’s decision was clear: under no circumstances would he let her die. Consequences be damned! If she hated him for it later, so be it, but while she couldn’t make a decision, he would make it for her. And he hoped she would agree with him in the end.

A resigned nod was Samson’s answer. “Drake, what do you suggest?”

Drake cleared his throat. “She’ll need to be fed more vampire blood.”

“How much?” Gabriel asked, even though it didn’t matter. He’d give her as much as she needed. However many pints of his blood she wanted, he would happily supply it.

“I don’t know yet. I’m afraid we’ll have to wing it.” The doctor gave a shrug.

Gabriel unbuttoned his left sleeve and shoved the fabric back to his elbow. “I’m ready.”

“When did you last feed?” the doctor asked, concern etched in his face. Suddenly he was all focused, his flippant attitude gone.

“A few hours ago.”

“Good.” He waved Gabriel to the other side of the bed. “Get onto the bed and sit next to her. I need you to open your vein. I’ll hold her mouth open, and you’ll have to start dripping the blood into her.”

Gabriel nodded and did as the doctor asked. He sat next to her on the bed. Willing his fangs to extend, he pierced his own wrist with them. Droplets of blood instantly appeared.

In the background, he heard the door open and close. Samson had obviously decided not to watch. Gabriel didn’t care—he didn’t need his boss’ approval. This was his decision to make. His case. But Gabriel knew full well that this was not merely a case for him—this woman meant more. He didn’t know why, but he trusted his instinct enough to know what he had to do. And his instinct had never failed him.

Keeping her alive was his mission now.

***

Maya was cold. A shiver racked her frame. She tried to curl into a ball to preserve her body’s heat, but all her muscles felt stiff and unresponsive to her brain’s demand. She felt paralyzed.  When she sensed a movement next to her, she realized she lay on a bed. As the mattress depressed next to her, heat reached her. Whoever—or whatever—was next to her provided warmth, and she craved it.

Trying to move the millstone holding down her chest, she fought against the heaviness of her body and shifted herself ever so slightly to her left. As if the heat source knew what she wanted, it came closer, and a moment later it pressed against her side. Suddenly warmth flooded into her, and she let out a contented sigh.

But the moment she tried to take a deep breath, her lungs stung from the effort, and a bolt of pain shot through her body. Pressure built in her lungs as they were unable to expel the carbon dioxide. She felt like drowning.

She opened her mouth to force herself to cough, to push out the used air, but before she could do so, she felt a hand at her mouth holding it open. Then drops of warm liquid hit her tongue. She wanted to scream. But all she could do was to swallow before the liquid would drown her.

The more she swallowed, the more liquid entered her mouth. She couldn’t taste anything, but she knew it wasn’t water. It was thicker, almost creamy. And to her surprise it eased the pressure in her chest. Then she knew it was medicine. Somebody was giving her medicine. So she opened wider and arched toward the source of the liquid.