by L. J. Red
The night wore on, growing darker and colder, and Rune’s spirits sank. He drifted from vampire-owned club to human one, keeping to the shadows, using his vampiric skills to mask his formidable size from the humans around him. Every time he tried to follow the fragile thread it dissipated, like smoke. Perched upon a rooftop, he scanned the city a final time before bowing his head. It was useless.
He felt a pulse, deep in his core. A warning. Danger. He spun, the sensation growing taut, pointed, and digging deep claws in his chest. His soulmate was in danger.
Rune leaped up, focusing on the feeling. It sharpened, pinpointed, and dragged him across the streets, not too far from where he was after all. Rune gathered the shadows beneath him, skimming across the ground, almost flying, leaping from shadow to shadow as if they had a solid weight, up over the wall to the next roof. Faster and faster until he was sprinting, his chest tight. His soulmate. He would not lose her before he could even find her.
Rune slammed to a stop and crouched on the corner of the roof. Below him was an alleyway, a van tucked against the mouth, its engine revving. Two men loaded a struggling woman inside. On the other side, three men were facing off with a blonde woman.
Rune’s eyesight sharpened, his chest tightening, something within him clicking into place like a key fitting cleanly into a lock. His heart beat once. Twice. The pulse of blood echoed through his body. It was her. The woman that had haunted his dreams. The flashes and the half-sights he had caught finally resolved into the full shape of her—the diminutive curve of her body, her warm blonde hair—but the face he had so hungered to see was drawn in fear. Rune took in the rest of the alleyway in a heartbeat. The man in front of her was holding a gun. Chill hands gripped Rune’s heart. No!
Moving faster than thought, working entirely on instinct, Rune leaped and landed on the back of the man holding the gun, his fingernails extending into claws and sinking deep into the man’s shoulders. Rune dragged him back with a massive flex of his body and he flew up into the air, the shot going wide over her head.
The gunshot echoed through the alleyway and the impact as they hit the ground slammed through Rune’s body. He barely noticed the pain, rolling into the man and beating his head against the ground until he went limp. He needed to get to the woman. His soulmate. His body ached for her. Rune scrambled up to see the woman hadn’t simply stood and waited but was grappling with the man behind her; they were trying to get something on the ground. Rune’s eyesight cleared, vampiric senses working even in the dark of the alleyway. Another gun. She moved fast. Despite her size, she clearly knew how to use her attacker’s weight against him. Rune felt a strange, unexpected thrill of pride watching her, but before he could move to help, a second gunshot rang out. Rune spun, vampire-fast, barely getting out of the way in time. The bullet shot past him so close he felt the rush of air. It embedded itself deep in the brickwork behind his head. The third man stood square, both hands on his weapon. His eyes widened in fear as he realized Rune had leaped out of the way of a moving bullet.
Behind the man, the others were pulling the van’s doors closed and starting to pull away.
“Stop them!” his soulmate shouted. “Save her!”
Rune snarled in frustration. No way was he leaving his soulmate to fight her battle alone. The man with a gun swung round to aim at Rune’s soulmate, and again Rune didn’t think, he just moved, springing onto the dumpster and launching himself on top of the man with the gun, landing a solid kick at the man’s ribs. Something snapped satisfyingly under his boots. Fueled by protective rage and a wave of sweeping, violent anger, Rune bared his fangs as he bore the man to the ground and sank his fangs deep into the man’s throat. The man would have no further chance to harm his soulmate.
Rune sprang upright, blood staining his lips and pooling around the man’s body, and spun to face his soulmate and the final attacker.
“No!” his soulmate shouted, and Rune looked up to see the man had wrestled the gun from her. He leaped forward, putting his body between them, his momentum carrying him forward. He cradled his hands around his soulmate even as the bullet tore through his shoulder and carried them both to the ground, his body taking the impact. He barely noticed the burn of the bullet compared to the sensation of having her in his arms. He breathed deep, her delicate scent surrounding him, alluring and delicate, her body under his. Fuck, he wanted to rub himself all over her, claim her as his. But he couldn’t enjoy the moment. He needed to deal with the threat. He forced himself to let go and rolled off her, hissing as the bullet wound in his shoulder pulled sharply. The man who had shot at them hadn’t stuck around. He’d already taken off, sprinting out of the alleyway toward the main street.
Behind him, he heard his soulmate scramble up. She ran toward one of the fallen weapons, picking it up and firing at the receding van, but it was too far away and her shots went wide.
“Damn,” she swore, then rounded on Rune. “I told you to stop them.”
“I was protecting you,” Rune said, taking a step back.
She shook her head. “You shouldn’t have protected me; I can protect myself. Sparrow was the one that needed protection.” She swore again. “I failed her.”
“He was about to shoot you,” Rune snarled.
“Shoot me?” Her eyes widened. “Oh shit. You’re injured.” She seemed to only now notice the blood staining Rune’s shirt, and she took a hesitant step forward. “You took a bullet for me,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“Gladly,” Rune said. With the adrenaline of the fight finally fading, he was able to take her in. He took another step forward, drawn toward her. The quality of her gaze softened. He needed her against him, needed her safe. He never wanted her in danger again. “How could you be so reckless?” Rune said, the words slipping out before he’d had the time to think them through.
His soulmate pulled short, her expression tightening. “Reckless?” she said. “I wasn’t being reckless; this is my job.”
Rune winced. He hadn’t meant to anger her, but clearly she took his expression for pain from the bullet wound because she took another step forward. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
“No. It will heal.”
She took another step, finally closing the distance between them, and Rune was overwhelmed once more by her scent. The sound of her voice vibrated through his body so that he couldn’t focus on the words she was saying; he was too caught up in the nearness of her. Every moment he spent before her solidified their bond. Invisible threads drew them together. She truly was his soulmate. His icy heart, for so long still and cold, was finally melting. He was coming alive again under her gaze. He felt reborn, his blood pumping through his veins for the first time in centuries. She was his and he would never let her be placed in danger again. His focus sharpened and he took in the sight of her: her soft blonde hair, the delicate lines of her face, her petite and fragile frame. Then he realized the blood he was scenting didn’t just come from him and the attackers. She was bleeding, blood darkening her arm.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice rough, pointing to her arm. It must’ve happened when she was wrestling her attacker; a shard of glass or metal had caught her flesh.
“Oh damn,” she said, glancing down at it and wincing. Rune felt a rush of hunger as the scent of her blood reached him. The need was so strong it was like a physical weight, pressing him forward. He needed that blood. Her blood. He needed to taste, needed to know her. She was his. Possessive desire ran through him, scoring deep furrows in his soul, reaching to his very bones. She was his soulmate and he needed to taste her. But his control was shredded. The bond too fresh, his own blood loss from the bullet wound making him more susceptible to hunger. He couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t give in to the overwhelming desire to taste her. Rune’s expression turned black and his muscles locked as he struggled to maintain control. If he tasted her blood, he was afraid he wouldn’t want to stop.
Chapter 4
This was the man fro
m her dreams. The strange, shadowy figure she’d been drawn toward for weeks, here he was, in the flesh. He looked like some kind of ancient warrior. Like he’d stepped straight off a Viking warship and turned up here in the middle of Chicago. His thick thighs were encased in dark jeans and a tunic-like top tailored close to his skin showed the broad line of his muscles. He was tall. Seriously big, and that wasn’t just because Brigit was tiny. He would loom over anyone. Brigit felt all the fragility of her human frame in comparison to him. His blond hair was cut short, with two thin braids trailing down from the crown of his head, tied off with little metal cuffs. A wicked-looking scar curled over his forehead to the top of his cheek. It gave him a dangerous, rakish air, and beneath it, blue eyes, which had darkened as they stood there. Shit. He looked pissed. Like he was fighting back some kind of rage. Just because she’d put herself in danger? Brigit bristled. Who did he think he was? She caught the shine of blood at his lip and stilled. Vampire. How could she forget? She’d seen him move in the fight. Too fast to be human. He’d moved like sin and danger. Formidable. It had been distracting enough in the fight, but now that he was standing before her…
She gulped and saw his gaze darken further. Fuck. She didn’t know how to deal with vampires. That was Dana’s deal. Brigit didn’t want anything to do with them. Especially not sinfully hot warriors who had stepped from her dreams right into being. She needed to pinch herself. This wasn’t a dream. This was real. He was real. A real vampire standing right there in front of her, with a dark look in his eyes that must be fury. His hands were clenched, his entire body tense, as if he was fighting an intense, internal battle.
Shit. He wasn’t just angry, he was furious. She should be afraid, terrified, facing down a massive, rage-filled vampire, but for some reason she felt no threat. Despite the proof of his strength she had seen unleashed on her attackers, she wasn’t afraid of him. The opposite, she was drawn to him. Just like in her dreams.
He shifted his weight, coming a little closer, barely any space between them. The light from the streetlamp caught his piercing blue eyes. Brigit was pinned by the weight of his regard. His gaze, it did something to her, lit a fire within her, sent a bolt of connection that shuddered through her bones. Her breath came short. How was he having this effect on her? How was any of this possible? Turning up in her dreams and then reality. Brigit’s mouth was dry. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and she saw his gaze drop to trace them. They were full and heavy under his eyes. She couldn’t stop herself tracing the delicious curve of his mouth with her eyes, imagining brushing her lips over his. Would they be as hard as the rest of him, or would they give to hers, welcoming her in, warm consuming… She swayed. Holy fuck, get a hold of yourself, Brigit.
“Who are you?” she gasped out, trying to claw back some control from her desire-crazed body.
“Rune.” His voice rumbled through the alley, pure sin and velvet; it wrapped her up and slid into her mind like a physical sensation, drawing her toward him. It was like the space between them was electrified, drawing them closer and closer together, binding them.
He turned his head down toward her. He was staring at her wound. At the blood. She felt a frisson of something. Could be fear, could be anticipation. Did she want him to taste it? Press his hot mouth to her skin and—
Oh wow, okay, this was getting out of hand. She did not just imagine letting a vampire drink her blood. No way.
“You have to come with me,” he said. “To the Sanctuary.”
“To the what?” Brigit said. She needed to clear her head; that’s what she needed to do.
“The Sanctuary,” he insisted.
“Sanctuary? Shit. You’re a Shadow.” He had to be one of the warriors that lived there; it was the only thing that made sense. That was why he was so formidable, so dangerous. She wasn’t going anywhere with him. “I’m not going to the Sanctuary. I’m going to a hospital,” she said, finally gathering enough strength to step back. His eyes flashed and she assumed it was because she had refused him. Well, deal with it, buddy. You don’t get to tell me what to do.
“You should come,” she said. “That bullet wound.”
“It’s nothing. I will heal.”
“Yeah, well, so will I,” Brigit responded, ignoring the pain. She didn’t want anything to do with vampires, no matter how alluring he was and how impressive his fighting had been.
“You don’t understand. You must—”
“Look, mister,” she said, cutting him off. “You don’t get it. Thanks for the assist but I’ve got to call this in and try and find out where the hell my friend’s been taken.” Sparrow. Poor Sparrow. She’d been so afraid, and now she’d been taken. Brigit had to find her, had to get her back before it was too late. The clock was ticking; she had to act before the trail got cold. She took another step away from him. She didn’t care who he was, he didn’t get to tell her what to do.
Chapter 5
Rune stared in frustration at his soulmate. Why didn’t she care that she was injured? He didn’t consider the fact that his own injury barely bothered him. He was a vampire. It was different.
Her fiery gaze seemed to reach inside him, grip hold of his heart, and clutch tight. It almost hurt, but he welcomed the pain. She was his soulmate; every thread of the bond forming between them was welcome. Her voice still echoed through his mind, clear and delicious. He wanted to hear her say his name, he wanted to hear her moan in pleasure as he brought her to climax. Fuck. He needed to slow down. He shouldn’t be thinking about that, about her above him, riding him, her blonde hair free and shining, her eyes on his as he buried himself in her, his scent all over her, bitten, marked, claimed. His fangs ached. Oh yes, he wanted to claim her, secure the bond and make her his.
She took another step away from him, her gaze shuttering as she turned away, and Rune’s dreams came crashing down. He didn’t know how to make her listen. She needed to come with him. She had to. She was his soulmate and she was injured. The scent of her blood was winding around his mind, making him frantic, a possessive urge erasing his ability to think clearly. Why didn’t she understand? He needed to protect her.
He thought she would welcome his offer, ride with him through the shadows to the Sanctuary where she would be safe. It had always been the case before when he had saved innocent humans from attack. Again, the thought wriggled in the back of his mind—he hadn’t entirely saved her; she had been fighting hard before he even arrived. Rune pushed the thought away. No, he knew best. She needed to come with him. He ignored the sense of kinship he felt at her fighting skills, her strength. It had to be a mistake, a confusion with the soulmate bond. She couldn’t be a warrior. She was just a human, fragile, weak.
“You can’t protect yourself,” he said.
Her eyes flashed once more, now clearly in anger.
Shit. This was going all wrong. She should be grateful, not angry. How had he made such a mess of this?
“Can’t protect myself? Are you kidding me?”
At the edges of his hearing, the police sirens began to grow louder.
“Men,” she spat. “Humans and vampires, you’re all the damn same. You just want to control us. Well, I went through that crap once before; I’m not doing it again. You don’t know me and you definitely don’t own me. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.”
She looked to the side; the sirens now audible to her human hearing.
“You don’t understand,” he said, feeling his chance to convince her slip from his fingers. “It’s dangerous.”
She laughed bitterly. “No, you don’t understand,” she said. “Of course it’s dangerous. My job is dangerous. I’m a cop.”
A what? Rune replayed the fight in his mind. That made sense, of course. That was why she’d known how to fight, why she’d had the gun. She was a cop like Dana. Only not like Dana. Dana was a vampire, and mate to the strongest of the Shadows; his soulmate was just a human.
“But you’re just a human.”
; “And thank God for that,” she broke in. “I would hate to be a vampire if they’re all commandeering assholes like you. I can’t imagine anything worse.” She gave him a scathing look, and before he could reply a police car skidded up beside them, lights flashing, filling the alleyway with blue.
“Thank God,” she said, striding past him toward the car.
Rune didn’t know what to do. Loss shattered through him. She hated vampires. She didn’t want anything to do with them. She didn’t want anything to do with him. He almost reached for her but stopped himself at the last moment. What was he going to do, force her? He couldn’t carry her kicking and screaming to the Sanctuary. She’d never forgive him for an act like that. And what would be the point? He couldn’t force her to accept him as his soulmate. Either she did or she didn’t. Fuck, she probably didn’t even know what their bond meant. Could she not feel it? Could that be it? Could he have found his soulmate only to have her not feel the bond in return?
Rune looked over her head at the approaching police cars, the flashing lights blinding his eyes. The police were not friendly toward vampires. Not since the Monster of Chicago. The Shadows had let Dana take the lead communicating with the human police. Rune didn’t want to mess that up. He was no good with modern humans. He took a step backward into the shadows, dragging them around his body. With a whisper of movement he used them to leap up, skating shadow to shadow until he was back on the roof.
He saw his soulmate turn, her face marring with confusion as she searched for him.
She was his soulmate, of that he was sure, but there was no way he could tell her. She didn’t want anything to do with vampires. She wouldn’t want him, and he couldn’t bear her rejection. No. He would keep it a secret from her. He would be her silent protector. He would be hers forever, and she would never know just how deep his feelings ran.
