Flesh and Blood

Dawn was less than two hours away and the streets were deserted. She glanced at Mal. Most vamps would be thinking about shelter as the first tendrils of daysleep crept into their systems. He showed no signs of slowing.

‘Dawn’s coming,’ she said, still watching him and knowing that he was probably watching her as well with his exceptional peripheral vision.

Scanning the streets ahead of them, he answered, ‘We’ve got time.’

She knew what he meant. Not just time to check out what Doc had reported, but time for her to explain everything she’d learned talking to Dominic, which she hadn’t wanted to do with Doc in the car. And she wanted to let it settle into her own head before she had to explain it to Mal. She still hadn’t processed the news that she had a brother.

‘I will explain soon. I promise.’ The ritual for getting to the Aurelian was not going to be easy. It could kill her. Or push Mal over the edge. What were the chances she could keep him away while she carried it out? The streets of downtown Paradise City just didn’t seem the right place to explain how dangerous a thing she was about to do. Or get into another argument.

‘I don’t like soon. I like now.’

‘You know what I’d like? To kill Tatiana.’ That should change the subject nicely.

‘Who wouldn’t?’ He stopped. ‘Look, I’ve come to realize you don’t respond well to pressure. You’re stubborn.’

So much for a new topic. She halted beside him, crossing her arms. ‘I’m not stubborn. You push too much.’ He could be so infuriating when he tried.

‘You’re determined to do things your own way, without help, and you’re not dealing well with the transition from the comarré world to this one—’

‘I’m dealing fine.’ Was that what he thought? She was trying. She should get some credit for that.

‘No, you’re not.’ He shoved a hand through his hair. It was so long it skimmed his shoulders. ‘I’m not a patient man. Not anymore. I’m tired of waiting. So whatever you need to do to get ready, do it. Now.’

She almost laughed at how ridiculous he sounded. So very much like a man of his time. Or a noble commanding his comarré. She uncrossed her arms and planted her hands on her hips. ‘Is that an order?’

‘It is what it is.’ He took a step forward, and a bolt whistled through the space he’d just occupied. It sank into the concrete block of the abandoned storefront behind him, dropping hunks of debris to the ground. Cracks veined out from the impact.

He grabbed her, tossed her over his shoulder, and took off. She fought to catch her breath. Everything around her blurred into streaks of light and muted color. Her braid whipped out past her face like it was connected to a string. Beneath her, he ran with a lethal grace, his muscles moving as oily smooth as a serpent’s.

When he stopped, she had little idea how far they’d gone or in what direction. He hadn’t run for more than a minute, but at that speed, they could be miles away.

He slipped her from his shoulder but kept his body in front of hers as he turned to glance back the way they’d come. Her heart thumped in her chest as she leaned against the building behind her. From what she could see beyond the hulking vampire in front of her, none of the surroundings looked familiar.

She reached for the comfort of her wrist blades. ‘Where are—’

‘Quiet,’ he whispered.

She quelled the urge to punch him in the shoulder. It wouldn’t matter how much or how little noise she made. If that bolt had come from the person she thought it had, there would be small chance of escape. Why hadn’t she told Mal about Creek? Maybe she was stubborn. Determined to do things her way. No time like the present to make things right. She moved to stand beside him. ‘Mal.’

With a stern look, he clamped his hand over her mouth. His cool fingers felt good against her skin, and his scent burrowed into her brain. Neither of which were helping. She turned her head, trying to free herself. His hand didn’t budge. Now who was being stubborn? She did the only thing she could think of that didn’t involve sticking a dagger into him.

She ran the tip of her tongue across the seam of his fingers.

He yanked his hand away like he’d been burned. He glared, then put her behind him again.

‘Listen to me.’ Better to tell him about Creek now than—

‘C’mon out, vampire. There’s no point in hiding or running. Let the comarré go and I won’t kill you.’ The sound of a cross-bow being cocked and loaded echoed from the street, but Creek wasn’t visible. ‘Well, I will kill you, but I’ll make it quick.’

—than to have Mal find out on his own. Which was right now, apparently. She edged out from behind Mal. An unnatural stillness permeated the night. ‘Put your crossbow up,’ she projected toward the street. ‘It’s not what you think.’

A disturbing growl emanated from Mal. His human face was nowhere to be seen. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We have company,’ she answered.

‘I noticed,’ Mal snarled back. ‘Why do you know more about it than I do?’

‘Because … ’ There was no good, short answer. ‘I just do.’

Creek emerged from the darkness to walk toward them, cross-bow aimed at Mal. ‘You’re an ugly cuss, you know that?’ He nodded at her without taking the weapon’s sight off Mal. ‘Walk to me. It’s all right – you’re safe now.’ ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">