Blood Draw: Book Two of the Blood Type Series (complete)

Schism

Bridget was the oldest vampire among us, and yet centuries of living as a predator, at times on her own, hadn't repressed the natural tendencies of the child. Since she couldn't be convinced to give up any information until she got her treat, I made my way upstairs to check on Olivia.

As I hovered in the doorway watching her sleep, I recalled the night Ian had attacked me and how I'd later regained consciousness on John's couch, terrified and confused. John had taken care of me, though. He'd been there always, even when I did my best to push him away. I could only hope that when Olivia woke up and we had a chance to talk about what had happened, she would take the news a lot better than I had.

A pair of arms wound around my waist from behind, and for a moment my thoughts raced unwittingly to Josiah and the dream, and the way his lips had felt as they traced their way along my jaw.

"I bought twenty chocolate bars," John said. "Hopefully that will tide her over." He took a breath, and then: "What are you thinking about?"

I placed my hands on top of his and leaned back into his chest. "Olivia, and how radically different her life will be from now on."

"Just like yours," he said.

"Yeah, but it's different. Ian may have bitten me, but I ultimately decided to become a vampire. I chose for Olivia, and who knows what kind of a vampire she'll turn out to be? From what you and Thomas have said, she's going to be pretty unstable. What if I chose wrong? What if she hates me for forcing this on her?"

"First of all, if Olivia hates anyone, it's going to be Margaret. You and Thomas saved her life. Second, if she drinks a steady diet of blood and gets periodic transfusions, she will likely be able to lead a very normal life," John assured me. "Thomas will take good care of her. We all will. She won't go through this alone."

I nodded, my throat constricting. "Olivia's like a sister to me. I don't know what I would do without her."

John turned me so we were standing face to face. "She's lucky to have you, Blake. So am I."

Lacing his fingers through my hair, he cupped the back of my head and pulled my face to his so that our foreheads were touching. "After we deal with Conrad Abernathy and undo the mess he's trying to create, I want us to concentrate on just us."

Tears of relief and regret and sadness stung my eyes. "I'd like that."

Olivia stirred in the bed behind us, prematurely ending our moment. She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes, gazing blearily at John and me. Then she gazed around the stark room, the one that had once been Ian's.

"Where am I?"

"John's house," I said, sitting next to her on the bed.

"How did I get here?"

"We brought you," John answered. "Do you remember what happened?"

Olivia flexed her arms and rolled her neck, the features of her face contorting in obvious discomfort. I could see her struggling to remember as she looked from John to me. Suddenly, her eyes widened as she reached a trembling hand to her neck.

"Margaret." And then: "The bitch bit me!"

I repressed a sigh of relief at how Olivia-like she sounded. "You're safe now."

"Am I—" she swallowed as she stared at us, her hand still at her neck. "Why aren't I dead?"

John and I looked at each other. "Because we got to you in time," he answered.

She looked at me. "Does that mean . . ?"

I made a move to put my arms around her but then pulled back, not sure how she'd react to the invasion of personal space. "I'm so sorry, Libby."