Blood Hunt (8 page)

 

Ava’s guards heard the commotion coming from down the corridor, and for the first time in what seemed like decades, she was left alone.

The chittering speech of the insectlike monsters who had held her captive grew louder, as it always did when they called more of their own kind.

She didn’t have much time, and she was going to use every second of it to get herself out of this place.

The rough rock tunnels that were a maze to her when she’d first been brought here were now easy to navigate. Unfortunately, the only way out was down the tunnel, the way her guards had gone.

Fear had been a part of her for so long she almost failed to recognize a difference in the pounding of her heart as her bare feet slapped against the dirt floor. Little rocks dug into her skin, but she didn’t slow for fear she’d miss her one chance for escape.

Her lungs burned from the unusual exertion, and she had to hold her round belly so it didn’t feel like it was going to be ripped from her body with every hurried step. The weight of her pregnancy slowed her down too much, but that was probably what her guards had counted on.

Ava cleared a corner and nearly ran headlong into combat. She skidded to a halt, grabbing the wall of the cave to steady herself.

One man stood in the center of a thick ring of monsters—both the ones who guarded her as well as the smaller, feral ones that looked human from the neck up.

Ava knew better than to be fooled.

The man’s sword moved almost too fast to see, and everywhere it passed, monsters fell. Black blood splattered over his clear face shield, but it didn’t seem to slow him down. His powerful body moved with a mesmerizing grace and Ava had to jerk herself away from staring.

The dry skittering of more monsters grew louder, coming from her left.

They were going to see her and lock her up again. She couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t have her baby in this place.

Ava pressed herself into a shadowy crevice, hoping her protruding belly wouldn’t give her away. She held her breath, prayed her pounding heart would quiet itself, and squeezed her eyes shut.

They came so close to her she could feel a breeze from their bodies as they passed. Not one of them slowed. They all headed straight for the fight.

Ava didn’t stick around to see whether the man won. There was nothing she could do to help him, anyway. The best thing she could do was run and hope that she and her baby got out of this hellhole alive.

 

Logan called Tynan as soon as he woke. “Where are you?” he asked.

“Dabyr.”

“We were supposed to meet.”

“I know. I wasn’t able to get away.”

“Why not?”

“Grace. She took a turn for the worse.”

A pang of grief burst inside Logan’s chest. He’d grown fond of the human. She was kind. Giving. A few days ago, she’d donned a magical device that transferred her health and vitality to a Theronai who had been paralyzed. The artifact worked, and Torr was now on his feet once again, but Grace’s sacrifice had been great. The Sanguinar had done what they could, but no one expected her to live.

“How is Torr?” asked Logan.

“Desolate. Angry. He makes demands on me that are not possible.”

“How long does she have?”

“Days at most. I told Torr I was leaving tonight, that I had work that must be done.”

Logan doubted the man took that news well. “Are you safe?”

“His people have contained him so he won’t hurt me when I go.”

“When will you arrive?”

“It will be a few hours. I’ll call you when I’m close. But I won’t be able to stay away long, so have the woman ready to go.”

“Ready?”

“Wring a promise from her to gain her cooperation. We’re running out of time. These matches are taking too much time.”

“They take as long as they take.”

“Briant did some calculations. If we don’t double our pace, sixty percent of our race will be dead within the next twenty years.”

That news sent shock winging through Logan. He’d known things were grim, but he’d had no idea how bad they’d gotten. He’d thrived on a steady diet of hope and hard work, and it seemed cruel now that his efforts weren’t good enough.

“Did you hear me, Logan?”

His voice cracked with the defeat that crushed his chest. “I did.”

“Work faster, brother. We need her on our side. Now.” Tynan hung up.

Logan ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. All that work and it wasn’t even truly paying off.

How many lives had he altered? How many people had he tricked or coerced into doing his bidding? He’d lied. He’d even gone as far as entering the minds of his subjects to convince them to help.

They’d all done it willingly. Or so they thought.

Sure, those people were happy, but it wasn’t because of their own choices. It was all Logan’s doing. Artificial.

And the sad part was, he was prepared to do it again tonight. With the woman who had saved his life.

She had saved him, and now he was going to turn her life upside down.

The thought turned his stomach, but he knew better than to let his emotions sway him. Logically, it was the only course of action. If his race died, there would be no one to heal the Theronai or Slayers. They would fall to injury and poison. Their numbers would shrink until they, too, became extinct. Synestryn demons would overrun Earth. Countless people would die screaming in pain—food for the Synestryn. Better to sacrifice a few to artificial happiness than to allow the fall of mankind.

At least that’s what he told himself as he set out to do what he knew he must. This was war, whether the humans knew it or not. And in war, there were sacrifices.

He just wished that the woman who’d saved his life didn’t have to be one of them.

 

Hope saw no sign of Rory or any of the missing men as she searched the streets. None of the people she’d come to know had seen Rory. She hadn’t been to the local convenience stores or any of the other shelters in town. It was as if she’d just vanished.

The police weren’t concerned. Rory lived on the streets. They assured her that people like Rory moved around. And without a last name, Hope couldn’t even file a proper missing person’s report. The best they could do was take down her contact information and let her know if anyone matching Rory’s description turned up in jail. Or in a morgue.

With that image firmly in Hope’s vivid imagination, she gathered her courage to go back to the building she hated so much—the one she was certain had somehow eaten her past.

Not that a building could do such a thing. But it stood there, mocking her, taunting the edges of her mind with memories she could almost grasp. Like a fleck in her vision, as soon as she turned to look at it, it darted away, slipping out of reach.

Hope clutched a flashlight in her gloved hand and marched around the Tyler building to the back where the overhead door had been busted out. Someone had screwed a sheet of plywood over the opening to keep trespassers out.

She peered through the small window of the employee entrance, shining her flashlight inside. There was no giant monster corpse lying there, only an oily stain on the concrete. The only other proof of the battle was the fallen stack of pallets and the scuff marks in the dust coating the floor.

Hope twisted the doorknob. Locked. Of course.

She felt a subtle heat caress her nape a moment before she heard a low, cultured voice. “It’s awfully cold to be out alone on a night like this.”

Hope whirled around, lifting her flashlight to strike.

Logan stood there, ten feet away, well out of range. His arms were crossed over his wide chest, and his pale eyes narrowed in speculation.

Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Looking for you.” He stared up at the building. “I didn’t think I’d find you here. Not after last night.”

Last night. When he’d killed the monster and done . . . something to her. She could still feel his lips on her throat, moving as if kissing her.

Hope’s hand strayed to the spot and one side of Logan’s mouth lifted in amusement.

“So you do remember,” he said as he took a step forward. It had been only one step, but somehow, he was within reach, so close she could touch.

He was so beautiful. Wickedly so. The kind of man that made a woman’s mind grind to a halt and her body go languid with need. His aura was bright, almost blinding, swirling with colors she’d never seen before. She didn’t know how to interpret it, but it hardly mattered so long as she could keep staring at the movement of rainbows dancing around him.

The sensuous curve of his mouth promised delight. The sharp angle of his jaw and his high cheekbones cast loving shadows across his face and throat. They drew her gaze in, daring her to reach out a hand and touch. Even his silky, dark hair called to her, begging her to slide her fingers close to his scalp and drag his mouth where she wanted it most. She wasn’t even entirely sure where that was, though she could imagine the fun she’d have finding out.

Not that she was going to do any of that. She wasn’t. But a girl could dream, and Logan was definitely the stuff of dreams. “My memory isn’t exactly trustworthy. I’ve learned not to pay any attention to it.”

That news made an inky black brow lift in question. “I’ve always adored memories.”

His eyes brightened, seeming to glow from within for a split second. His aura shifted, pulsing with an infrared flush of desire. Hope felt herself lean forward, trying to get closer.

Logan reached out and drew one finger from her forehead, down her temple, over her cheek, and onto her neck. A heated shiver swept through her as his finger made contact with the spot his mouth had been last night. “I’d like you to share yours with me.”

“Share?” she asked, her voice barely there. Her chest was tight with longing, leaving little room for air.

Not that she needed it. She didn’t need anything except the sight of this man and the feel of his fingers on her skin. It made her insane, but there was no help for that now.

“I only want a quick peek. Just a glimpse of the woman you are.”

His hand slid around her neck, curling at her nape. He pulled her close, bowing his head until his forehead rested against hers.

He smelled of sunlight on snow—cold and clean. But the warmth of his skin seemed to burn into hers.

This wasn’t right. There was something odd about him, and she needed to put some space between them in order to clear her senses and figure out what it was.

She shifted her weight to take a step back and was suddenly jerked against his torso, his arm wrapped around her, his hand splayed low on her hip. The hold was possessive. His grip demanding.

“Just relax,” he whispered, and she was sure she could feel it in her mind as well as hear it in her ears. “I won’t hurt you.”

There was a hot pressure behind her eyes—not painful, but not right. It didn’t belong. She instinctively fought the invasion, which seemed only to make it worse.

“Let go, lovely. Let me inside.”

His words made heat flare in her belly. She pulled in a gasping breath. This wasn’t right. It felt good, but it wasn’t right.

Hope had no chance of breaking his grip. His body felt like hot steel against her front, his arms hard metal bands. And he smelled so good. She kept dragging his scent into her lungs, letting it become a part of her. She was losing herself in this man, slipping away.

With a surge of willpower, Hope gritted her teeth and shoved against that pressure in her head. “No!” she shouted, pushing him away.

Logan flew backward, slamming into the pavement.

Shock held Hope immobile as the realization of what she’d done set in. Her whole body trembled with fear and fatigue. A headache screamed behind her eyes. Her breath came out in harsh, uneven gasps, billowing in the cold air.

He pushed gracefully to his feet, his eyes never leaving her. “What are you?”

Not who.
What.

Hope had always known she wasn’t normal. The best guess of the doctors had placed her in her late teens or early twenties the night her life began. There were no records of her birth. No parents. No friends. Not a single person had come forward when her photo had been plastered all over TV and newspapers. No one claimed her. Except Sister Olive.

And now, nearly a decade later, Logan was voicing her deepest fears. No one had claimed her because no one knew her. It was as if she’d been plunked down, out of nowhere. An alien.

Or worse.

She’d always pretended she was normal. Her memory loss was a head injury no doctor could find on any CAT scan or MRI. She’d built a life for herself—a home for herself—based around a fundamental, flimsy lie: Hope was human.

Between Logan’s question and the powerful outburst she’d just displayed, Hope’s house of cards was beginning to fall.

“Leave me alone,” she said, her words lacking the strength she’d intended to give them.

Logan dusted off his jeans and shook his head. “Not on your life. I need you.”

Hope scoffed at that, letting out a laugh of derision she couldn’t contain. “I bet you do.” She nodded down at the bulge in his jeans—the one she’d been trying to avoid acknowledging.

“Would my erection be less offensive if I told you that’s the first time that’s happened to me in a long, long time?”

“You’re such a flatterer. And a liar.”

“Sometimes,” he admitted, “but not now.”

“I need to go. Do not follow me.” She turned to walk away, determined to search the inside of that blasted memory-stealing building despite how freaked-out she was now.

Logan took hold of her arm and his living heat slid through her coat into her skin. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you go. I need you. My people need you.”