“You’re awake,” the female voice said, making Ursula turn her gaze away from him.
She tried to nod, but the action caused her discomfort as if she had a migraine. “What happened?” she asked instead.
“I took care of your injuries. What’s your name?” Dr. Giles asked.
“Ursula. Am I in the hospital?” She scooted up, bringing herself into a half-sitting position, for the first time allowing herself to take in her surroundings. But what she saw wasn’t what she was expecting.
This wasn’t a hospital, but a private residence. By the looks of it she was in someone’s living room. Why hadn’t her rescuer brought her to the emergency room? Slowly she turned toward him, her forehead working itself into a frown. She noticed how he shifted from one foot to the other.
“I thought it would be better to get you to my personal physician. It was quicker. And Maya is the best,” he explained. His gaze flickered toward the doctor who nodded in agreement.
“And you are?” Ursula pressed out.
“Oliver, my name is Oliver. You remember me, don’t you? You asked me for help.”
Ursula sucked in a breath. Her memory was fully intact, but at the same time, the experience she’d gained over the last three years had taught her to be cautious about what she admitted. Besides, she still remembered offering him sex for helping her. Was that why he’d brought her here, rather than driven her to a hospital? Was he going to cash in on her promise as soon as she felt well enough? And why shouldn’t he? After all, she’d made a promise, and not only that, she’d kissed him to show him that she meant business. What virile guy would turn down such an offer?
She allowed her eyes to travel over his body. He was well built, muscular, yet lean at the same time. His jeans fit him like a second skin, making her aware of his masculinity. After the display of testosterone she’d been exposed to in her prison, she expected that the sight of such maleness would turn her off, but the opposite was true. The same feeling that had spread through her when she’d kissed him filled her even now. And this time she couldn’t write it off as a side effect of the fear she’d experienced during her escape.
“I’m . . . uh,” she murmured, wondering how to answer. Was it wise to admit that she remembered only too clearly what had happened?
The doctor dropped down on her haunches, bringing her to eyelevel. “You suffered from massive blood loss. Do you remember what happened to you?”
The blood loss! Her hand instinctively came up, wanting to touch the puncture wounds the leech had left, but in the last second, she grabbed the pillow instead, pulling it onto her lap. She couldn’t tell these strangers about the vampires. If she did, who knew what they would do with her? First, they wouldn’t believe her anyway. And then? Would they have her evaluated by a psychiatrist? Bring her to a closed institution? No, she couldn’t afford this delay. She had to get to her parents and make sure they knew she was alive and safe. And then she had to send help to the other girls—she had made that promise, and she would not renege on it.
“Blood loss?” she mouthed, hoping she sounded surprised. “What happened?”
Oliver dropped down as well, bringing his face closer so she could look into his eyes. “When I found you, you were injured and suffering from blood loss. Somebody attacked you. You were running away from somebody.”
Ursula shook her head slowly, pretending she was trying to remember the events. “I don’t know. I don’t remember being attacked.”
“But you must, you told me,” Oliver insisted, his voice strained, his forehead creased.
Maya put a hand on his arm, interrupting him, then looked back at her. “You were in very bad shape when I got to you. Your blood pressure was dangerously low and your heart was close to giving in. I gave you a blood transfusion.”
Ursula’s heartbeat instantly doubled. She knew it had been close. She knew she’d let the leech take more than other vampires had before him, but it had been the only way to drug him. However, she couldn’t tell these two any of this.
“Thank you for saving my life, Dr. Giles.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t far. Now tell me, what do you remember?”
Ursula threw a cautious look in Oliver’s direction, noticing how he parted his lips, as if wanting to say something. For effect, she pressed her palm against her temple. “I don’t know. I was walking home after an evening class . . . ”
“In the Bayview? There are no classes out there,” Oliver protested. He leaned in.