The head beams of the car scanned over a large shape, drawing Bast’s attention. It had been too quick to be useful, but he leaned forward, intent on trying to find it again. Whatever it was avoided the lights of the air strip, choosing instead to stalk in shadow near the plane.

Too damned close to the plane.

Chapter Eleven

Vampires lived with rules about human interaction. Lycans did not. He wanted to get to her now. Vampire relations with lycans were tenuous at best. If they went after her for some reason, Bast couldn’t say he wouldn’t let it be an impetus for shattering the reluctant relationship. Acid churned in his stomach, and with a sinking heart, Bast recognized the familiar feeling. The one that began as a slow simmer and would soon rage until it was an uncontrollable fire within him. He didn’t have time for this shit.

Gunning the engine, he reveled in its roar as the car charged toward the beast. It might have been a large dog or just an oversized, run-of-the-mill wolf, but he couldn’t take chances. He wanted it to flee, to get away from the plane. If it did, reacting as any normal animal would, the surging adrenaline running rampant in his veins would ease, his racing heart return to normal. But it didn’t, turning to look at him, ignoring the threat of the approaching car because it knew there was something better for it than a thousand pounds of steel. It had intelligence beyond animal keenness.

This was no ordinary wolf. The car hadn’t stopped before Bast jumped out, Glock in hand. Against another vampire, he’d need ash wood, but with these fuckers? A silver-tipped bullet would do the job quite well.

A burst of perspiration erupted on his brow, the heat in his belly rising. Swirling inside him until it filled every limb. But for the first time, Bast reveled in the heat. In the power that swelled inside him.

It was the same affliction from before, yet not. This time, he didn’t feel as if the conflagration would bring him down. Instead, it buoyed him.

“Alice!” His shout sounded strangled, even to his own ears. Fury twisted the sound in his throat until it was a whip against the night air.

The beast swung its ugly head toward him, lips snarling. Yellowed teeth bared. Now that he was next to it, he realized it stood the size of a small pickup.

“Sebastian.” A desperate whisper. Somewhere beyond the lycan.

“Stay where you are,” Bast ordered. Before he could shoot at the werewolf, he wanted to be certain of her position. Daring to take his gaze away from the brute for a split second, he peered beyond it. The blazing lights of the runway should have been enough, his vision should have helped him, but Bast had to focus to find her.

From a distance, he normally could detect distinct shapes. Distinguish between blond hair or brown. Heightened vampire vision ensured he knew if someone wore a round-neck collar or one with a vee. A person’s facial characteristics could be separated from another’s.

But now—somehow—as he looked for Alice, the world changed. The area became sun-brightened, light flooding it until there were no more shadows. Until he almost squinted from the harshness of it. Bast seemed to pull the light into himself, and what were once shades of gray became distinct reds and yellows. Black separated from brown.

His gaze skimmed over the lycan, noting the wire-stiff hairs. Each individual one was black at the roots, the strands blending to shades of auburn. Bands of other colors dripped down its heaving sides. On any other night, he might have studied the creature more, to try and figure out why the sunlight had come out on such a beautiful night, but right now Bast’s primary concern was one female he’d pledged his life to.

The heat surrounded him. Filled him. Nourished him.

Alice’s unique scent called to Bast, and between it and the steady thump of her heartbeat, he triangulated her position. There, just beyond the beast’s right shoulder, eyes prettier than a field of bluebonnets peered out. Her attention darted between him and the lycan, and the moon highlighted her fear within the sea of blue.

With a steady hand, he pointed the Glock at the wolf, targeting the yellow razors of teeth. A gleaming row of ferocity. Alice shifted her head, and Bast jerked the gun up. Aiming at the slow rise and fall of a barrel-like chest, he tried to get a better shot.




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