Blood Therapy (Kismet Knight, Ph.D., Vampire Psychologist) by Lynda Hilburn Page B

me.
    Devereux clutched my arm so hard I yelped in pain, then he pushed in front of me.
    My fear level, already off the charts, went stratospheric, and my stomach clenched so tight I could barely breathe. I recognized that foul maniac: Lucifer, Brother Luther’s serial killer personality. The animal who’d terrorized mortals and vampires alike. The walking nightmare who’d stalked me.
    With a roar, Devereux released me, his sudden movement thrusting me backward into several guests, already sent tumbling in the chaos, and who were now struggling to stand. I scrambled to my feet in time to see Devereux leap toward Lucifer as the uninvited fiend grabbed two donors by their necks before all three of them vanished.
    Devereux followed.
    The last thing I remembered was Anne lifting me into her arms and her voice saying, “Oh, great. Once again, Anne has to clean up the leftovers.”

Chapter 5
     
    No!” I screamed, and sprang up into a sitting position. Heart pounding, sweat beading on my chest, I surveyed my environ-ment, relieved to discover myself on my own couch, still wearing the silver dress, the sun flowing in through the living-room windows.
    Daytime. No vampires.
    I sniffed tentatively, anticipating Lucifer’s foul calling card. Instead, all I smelled was the breakdown of my own deodorant.
    It took a few seconds for my pulse to calm and my breathing to slow.
    Memory fragments of the night before swam into my consciousness in disjointed pieces. My hands shook, and I eased myself up against the cushions, staring down at the cross and pentagram around my neck. I lifted the cross, expecting to feel heat, but it was cool.
    What did that mean? Had something happened to Devereux again? No matter how confused I was about our relationship, I didn’t want any harm to come to him. He’d become important to me, even if it turned out we couldn’t be together anymore.
    The enormity of my situation rolled over me like a psychic avalanche. I hadn’t meant to make bad choices—shit! I simply hadn’t acquired enough information about anything during the last three months to make any rational decisions. But I had to face the fact that both my current options stank.
    How could I possibly have known the degree to which my brain was being physically changed and controlled by vampire energy? Even Devereux didn’t know. I’d just thought my headaches were due to normal human reasons, like stress. I shivered, thinking about being a guinea pig in my own experiment. Dr. Frankenstein ingested his concoctions on purpose. I’d thrown my brain into the undead blender without a qualm.
    But what if Anne was manipulating me, and her claims about my brain were lies?
    What if they weren’t?
    I guess I’ll find out eventually.
    Okay, get a grip, Kismet. Options.
    If I did what I wanted to—closed down my bloodsucking private practice, stopped work on the vampire-wannabe book, and stayed away from Devereux—it was only a matter of time until Brother Luther’s even more repulsive and evil personality Lucifer swooped in to carry me off. For some unknown reason, the fiend was obsessed with me, and that kind of sick connection was almost impossible to extinguish even in humans. As a vampire, his ability to move through time and space made me unsafe everywhere. So, result of option one? Quick death. At least, I hoped it would be quick.
    Option one definitely sucked.
    Option two? If Devereux survived whatever happened when he and Lucifer vanished last night, I could stay with him. Let him turn me into his obedient human slave, his fast-food snack, his destined mate. I couldn’t deny that I behaved strangely when I was with him. He might even deign to tell me his real agenda one day, why he
really
wanted me around. Of course, he’d be a kind master—he’d treat his pet well. But soon the physiological effects on my brain would simply stop me from trying to have any independent thoughts, behaviors, or feelings. I’d just wait for instructions.