She shook her head, tears washing down her face. “Have to get clean. Have to get you clean. Cuts on your hands?”
He glanced down at his shaking hands, covered with blood. “I don’t think so.”
FBI agents burst inside, guns out.
“Cut her free,” Deke said, yanking off his shirt and kicking out of his clothes. He waited until the nearest agent had cut Nora free. “Get into the shower. Now.”
She nodded, gulping air. With barely a glance at the agents, she shimmied out of the teddy and ran, buck-assed naked, for the hallway. Deke followed her, waiting until she’d stepped inside the shower. “Use soap. Wash it all off.”
He kept his hands away from his body and dropped to one knee, peering at her feet. She scrubbed them with soap until they were pink. He breathed out. No cuts, not even a scrape. Good.
She stepped out. “Your turn.”
He nodded and shoved by her, careful not to touch. Minutes later, he’d washed off the blood and reassured himself he didn’t have any cuts or wounds.
The first agent poked his head into the bathroom. “You’re both to stay here until the CDC guys come for you. They’re bringing decontamination chemicals.”
Deke nodded and flipped off the water, not wanting to touch anything else in the room.
Nora shivered next to the shower but didn’t reach for a towel. “Anything in here could be contaminated.”
“I know.” He wanted nothing more than to reach for her, but just in case he was contaminated, he kept his distance. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. He didn’t bite me.” Her lips began to turn blue. “How did you find me?”
His chest hitched. “Saw Bobbi take you on video, tracked her through town, did a search for anybody she might know. The aunt and her address popped up. The SUV is in the driveway.” He shook his head. “I thought I’d be too late.”
Her hand trembled as if she wanted to reach out and touch him. Reassure him. But they had to follow protocols. Instead, she gave him a smile. “We’ll be okay, Deke. I promise.”
“I can’t live without you.” Standing, dripping cool water, having just faced death, he gave her the truth. “I’ve loved you since I was sixteen years old, and I don’t want this life, any life, without you.”
Color bloomed in her face. “You pick the darnedest times.”
He chuckled. “I know.”
She smoothed water from her hands. “You live by different rules, but you’re true to them, and you’ll be true to me.” Her smile brightened the entire room. “You’d go through hell for me. How could I not want you?” She faced him fully, shivering but with determination in her eyes. “I love you, too.” As she gave him the words, as she gave him herself, she met his gaze. “It’s always been you, Deacan.”
Yeah. He smiled. “I’ll make you happy, baby. I promise.” More importantly, he’d keep her safe, because the woman had pegged him right. Hell was definitely coming, and he fully intended to storm the flames for her.
Chapter Sixteen
Week 4
29,071 people dead
Likelihood of Scorpius Containment: Impossible
The Romans fell, their last moment a quiet movement of time. The Athenians fell, their blood soaking the earth. The grand Highlanders fell, their mighty swords still clanging in history. Now it’s our time to fall. The difference is, in this time and with you . . . we will rise again.
—DEACAN DEVLIN MCDOUGALL
Nora stretched her neck as she shoved open the door to Deke’s apartment. The statistics of the infected, crazy, and dead were going to give her nightmares. The public finally knew the truth, and society was holding its breath.
The aromatic scent of spaghetti rumbled through her to warm her belly. How could she be hungry? But she was. Yep. That was Deke. It was toast, steak, or spaghetti if he was cooking.
She closed the door, kicked off her boots, and wandered to the kitchen, where he stirred the pot.
He turned, his gaze serious.
Her system instantly went into overdrive. “What?”
He handed her a glass of wine, took another, and grasped her hand to lead her to the living room. His hold was firm and warm. “The noodles need another three minutes, and you and I need to talk.”
She slipped onto the sofa and took a sip of the Cabernet. Warm and robust, it exploded on her tongue. Protecting herself, she tucked her feet under her. “All right.”
He set down his glass. “Our tests came back, the third round, and neither of us was infected by Zach.”
“I know.” The CDC had called her, too. “I actually spoke with Lynne earlier.”
Deke’s eyebrows rose. “How is she?”
“Not great, but hanging on.” If anybody could survive the beginning of the pandemic, it’d be Lynne. “Said she’s basically a pincushion in the name of research right now.”
Deke nodded. “That makes sense, although I feel for her.” “Me too,” Nora said, plucking at a loose thread on his shirt. “Also said that sleeping with the second in line to the presidency hasn’t given her any more power, darn it. They won’t let her leave.”
Deke rubbed his eyes. “They’re an odd couple, don’t you think?”
Nora squinted and took a moment to digest the news. “No. They’re both strong, stubborn, and smart. Probably a good match, really.” She sighed. “Any news on Zach or Bobbi?”
“No. They’re still in custody and being studied.” Lines cut into the sides of Deke’s generous mouth. “I’m still wondering if I should’ve put a bullet in each of their heads instead of letting them live.”
“You did the right thing.” She cleared her throat and steeled her shoulders. “I’m no closer to getting inside Scorpius, though.” She focused on him, needing to look at something good. To feel something strong. “So you wanted to talk. Talk.”
He rubbed the scruffy shadow covering his jawline. “The infection is spreading, and we’re going to need national containment measures.” Green and dark, his eyes sizzled with an impenetrable light.
She blinked. “You’ve been asked to be part of the, well, whatever it is.”
He nodded. “Yes. I’m sure they’ll come up with a grand acronym, but basically, it’s a first line of defense against the threat, and right now we’re calling it the Brigade.”
Front line of danger, that was. Her hands shook. “You took the job?”
“Not yet.” His head lifted, his look all male. “I figured I should talk to you first.”
“What if I say no?” she asked quietly.
He didn’t answer.
She lifted an eyebrow.
He cupped her jaw. “We’re in a war, Nora. A new one. Most people who catch the infection die. A few live, and a few are different. Dangerous.”
She swallowed. The truth of his statement carved fear through her, but they’d faced terror before and won. “You’re going to hunt them down.”
“Yes.” He kept hold of her jaw, trapping her gaze. “I tried to be somebody else. To get you back, to make you love me again, I tried. God knows I did.”
“Deacan—”
“No.” He brushed a finger cross her lips. “I’m a fighter, and I’ll always be a fighter if there’s something needing to be fought. This disease? It needs to be fought. The people trying to spread it need to be stopped. I canna sit on the sidelines and watch.”
She’d known. From the first day they’d met, she’d known he was different. Special. Dangerous. A deadly predator now created havoc amongst them, and there wasn’t anybody she’d trust to stop it more than Deacan McDougall. They were going to argue about government and freedom, and she’d stick to her guns. But she would be there for him as he did his job. If he needed her support to do it, then she’d square her shoulders and help him.
If nothing else, she’d learned that life was short, and no way did she want to live it without him. “I love you as is. Always have and always will,” she said softly. She couldn’t ask him to be less than he was. Less than the man she loved.
His head lifted, and his eyes glittered. “I love you, too.” “I know.” She reached up and took his hand. “It’s you and me, Deacan. Together. No matter what happens next.”
He took her mouth, kissing her deep. When he leaned back, the look in his eyes, true and absolute, was for her. Just her. “Aye,” he said.
Phantom Embrace
Dianne Duvall
Chapter One
Yuri closed his eyes and let the night sounds serenade him.
How he loved the quiet.
“I don’t miss the city,” Stanislav murmured beside him.
Yuri smiled. As usual, his friend had read him well. Stanislav might not have been able to peer into one’s thoughts as telepathic immortals often did, but he could—like Bastien—discern one’s emotions through touch. And his shoulder brushed Yuri’s as they strode through the somnolent college campus.
“Nor do I,” Yuri responded, opening his eyes.
Duke University’s students appeared to have all retired for the night. No parties raged at the frat houses. No lights brightened the windows of the sorority houses. No music thump thump thumped, the bass pounding through the streets while students blew off steam and got drunk off their asses, providing easy targets for vampires.
Instead blissful silence embraced him, broken only by nocturnal creatures that scavenged about whilst the humans slept.
Or most of them, anyway. The occasional straggler or two staggered wearily through the campus. Up late cramming for exams, Yuri supposed, or returning home after a late-night tryst.
“Do you think Seth will transfer us back to New York?” Stanislav asked, his sharp eyes scouring every shadow.
“I don’t think so. Not for quite some time, anyway. Whenever we quash one enemy, another rises. There seems to be no end to the troubles here in North Carolina.”
“There is also a proliferation of new immortals in the area,” Stanislav countered.
Almost half a dozen transformed in just the past few years. Quite an astonishing number. But Yuri wasn’t concerned that it would render the two of them obsolete.
“Every one of us will be needed until no more threats arise.”
Stanislav nodded.
Until a few years ago, all had been the same old same old: Immortal Guardians hunted vampires nightly to reduce their numbers and keep them from preying upon humans. Nothing more.
Then Bastien had raised his vampire army and pitted it against the Immortal Guardians, aided by a weaselly scientist named Montrose Keegan. Unbeknownst to Bastien, Keegan had fostered ties to a budding mercenary group that possessed a very dangerous sedative. A sedative they had developed with the sole purpose of torturing Ami, the petite mortal female in the Immortal Guardians’ midst who had come to them from another world. Ami had suffered six months of torture before Seth and David, the two eldest and most powerful immortals, had found and rescued her, welcoming her into the fold.
Then the mercenaries had tried to get their hands on her again and, in the process, had discovered that the sedative worked on immortals and vampires, too.
Thank you, Bastien, Yuri thought sarcastically.
No other drug had been capable of affecting an immortal until then. None at all. The odd, symbiotic virus that infected immortals replaced their immune system when they transformed and was hyperproficient when it came to repairing any and all physical damage they suffered, including that spawned by drugs. Except for this one unique sedative.
Twice mercenaries had attempted to use the sedative to capture an immortal they could use to create an army of supersoldiers. And twice the Immortal Guardians had defeated them. The immortals had killed everyone—every single mercenary—in the last epic battle.
Things had been pretty quiet since then. But considering the troubles the Immortal Guardians had faced here since Bastien’s initial uprising, Yuri doubted it would stay that way.
A pale flash of color caught Yuri’s eye, drawing his attention to one side.
A woman strolled parallel to them, her feet making no sound that carried to his preternaturally sensitive ears. A long, cream-colored dress adorned her slender form. Casual, not formal. The skirts so long they hid her shoes. An oddity today when skirts so short they showed everything if the woman bent over were more en vogue.
Sleeves encased her slender arms to just beneath her elbows. The bodice hugged a narrow rib cage and even smaller waist. The only thing that wasn’t demure about the dress was the neckline, which dipped low enough to provide a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage.
Were she wearing stays and panniers and petticoats, she would have fit right in with the mortal aristocrats he had rubbed elbows with . . . oh . . . about two and a half centuries ago. She certainly carried herself with the grace those women had practiced.
Stan mumbled something Yuri didn’t catch.
Too entranced. Yuri couldn’t seem to pry his eyes away from the woman.
She was a beauty, with raven hair that tumbled down her back to her waist in thick midnight waves. Her profile displayed a small nose and pert chin. Full lips that bore no smile.
A cat slipped around a corner of the building a few feet away and stopped short upon glimpsing her.
The woman stopped, too, and smiled at the ragged little creature. Bending forward, she appeared to speak to it.
Yuri strained to hear her words, but failed to catch any.
The cat dipped its head and crept forward, every movement cautious until it reached her.
She knelt down, her pretty face brightening with a soft smile.
The cat lay down and rolled over onto its back, begging for a belly rub.
“Cats are strange,” Stanislav said.
The woman, reaching a hand toward the stray, looked around at the sound of his voice.
Yuri’s heartbeat picked up. Moonlight spilled across her nose and chin, leaving her eyes in darkness. But he could feel her gaze upon him like a touch.
“Don’t you think?” Stanislav asked.
“What?” Yuri murmured. “Oh. Right. Yes.”
“What’s wrong? Your heartbeat just picked up.”
He would notice that, damn him.
Yuri surreptitiously put more distance between himself and his friend so Stanislav wouldn’t brush his shoulder and feel the attraction and whatever the hell else it was that claimed him in that moment.
“Ah,” Stanislav said. “I smell them now. How many are there?”
Frowning, Yuri tore his gaze away from the woman and drew in a deep breath.
Vampires. Six of them.
“Half a dozen,” Yuri told him. A century older than Stanislav, Yuri should have caught the vampires’ scents first, but had allowed himself to become distracted.
The two stopped walking and let their ears and noses determine the vampires’ location.
When Yuri glanced to the side once more, only the cat stared back. The woman was nowhere to be seen, though he had not heard her leave.
A faint whimper floated to him on the night’s breeze.
Yuri caught Stanislav’s gaze and pointed northeast as the wind ruffled his hair.
Nodding, Stanislav drew a pair of shoto swords.
Yuri drew his treasured katanas and shot forward without another word.
They found the vampires in the shadows behind a building Yuri didn’t care enough about to identify. Six vampires. Two victims. All male.
Vampires were humans who had been infected with the same rare symbiotic virus that transformed immortals. As with immortals, the virus replaced their immune system and lent them many of the characteristics that had been found in vampire folklore over the centuries—greater speed, strength, and regenerative capabilities, coupled with heightened senses, photosensitivity, and a frequent need for blood. It also spawned progressive brain damage in every human infected with it that resulted in a rapid descent into madness. A madness Yuri and the other Immortal Guardians were spared thanks to the protection provided by the advanced DNA with which they ha
d been born.
These vampires, Yuri swiftly discerned as he watched them do their damnedest to draw forth every drop of blood from the humans they had slain, were a mixed bag. Two had long since embraced the madness. Their ragged clothing and filthy bodies reeked. Their oily hair hung in limp straggles around faces stained with both new blood and old blood from the previous night’s kills. Their eyes glowed blue and green with mirth as they cackled over the torturous deaths they had just inflicted.
Three others had not yet completed their descent into madness. They made at least a minimal effort at maintaining basic hygiene. And they seemed a bit leery of the insane vamps. But they clearly had taken pleasure in hurting their victims. Any sense of right and wrong that had been instilled in them by their parents had packed its bags and headed for the door. Little conscience remained. Only some basic sense of self-preservation that told them the older vampires might just be psychotic enough to turn on them one night.
Yuri met the sixth vampire’s glowing blue gaze as that one noted their presence and rose in a slow, controlled movement.
Towering at least a head above the others, the sixth vampire nearly matched Yuri in height. Crisp, clean clothing adorned a form packed with muscle. Neatly cropped hair, almost military in its appearance, accompanied an air of I-can-and-will -kick-your-ass-at-my-discretion. The vamp’s iridescent eyes bore no insanity, indicating he had only recently been turned. And when they latched on to Stanislav . . .
Yuri frowned.
He would’ve sworn those blue eyes lit with triumph. As though the vamp had merely been biding his time until Yuri and Stanislav had made an appearance.
The other vampires looked up at Vampire #6, followed his gaze, then rose, growling and hissing like B-movie vampires.
Instinct telling him the sixth vampire was trouble, Yuri spoke not a word. Issued no warning. He simply left the weaker five vampires to Stanislav and shot forward, his gaze never leaving the big vamp.
Vampire #6 reached behind him—so quickly his movements blurred—and drew a weapon.
Yuri barreled past the slovenly vampires and swung his katana . . . just in time.
On the Hunt Page 22
