What if the person following me is the same one who pulled me out of the tunnel yesterday? The same person who brought my bike back?
Flipping the blade so it’s pressed against my forearm and hidden from sight, I turn my back on the alley and head for my apartment. I’m just about to step into the sun when three black crows fly down, landing in front of me on the asphalt. Their beady eyes study me with such ferocity—especially for fucking birds—that a shiver of unease runs down my spine.
“What the hell is with you guys?” I demand. The distraction is just enough that I don’t hear the shuffling behind me until hands rip me back into the darkness.
I spin, slicing out with my blade and catching the flesh of someone’s arm. They growl and slam their fist into my gut.
My lungs burn as I gasp for air while they drag me further and further into the alley. “I thought you were some badass hunter.”
It’s nearly dark in the alley, which is why these fuckers aren’t bursting into ash at the moment. But if they get me much farther from the exit, I’m done for.
“I hate that I’m disappointed.”
I throw an elbow, ramming it back into the vampire holding my hair. He grunts and releases me, so I spin and kick out with my left foot, sending him flying back into the bricks. Palming my dagger, I duck a fist from the other vampire and stab him in the gut, burying my blade to the hilt.
I rip it out, and he stumbles back. As I go in for the kill, hands grab my hair again, yanking me back and slamming me face-first into the wall. Pain echoes through my head, my ears ringing from the contact.
“Stupid bitch,” he spits, the wet spraying over my face.
Fist to the ribs. Crack.
I fight against the hold, desperate to get free, but he rips me back again, slamming me to the ground as his buddy kicks me in the gut. I try to roll away, to lash out with my blade, but he stomps on my wrist, making the bones shatter, and my dagger slips free.
“You killed our councilwoman. Did you not think you would pay for that?”
Councilwoman? I thrust my hips up, trying to toss the vampire straddling me away. One fist tightens around my throat, and he slams his other fist down into my nose. Pain explodes in my head again, and I reach up with both hands, slipping them in between his arms and folding my elbows around his arms, breaking his hold.
Rolling to the side, I stumble to my feet and try to get onto the street. If I can get to the sun, they can’t follow me. Someone grabs my ankle and yanks me back, and the concrete rips into the skin of my stomach as my shirt climbs up on my body.
When the exit is nothing more than a pinprick of sunlight, they drop me, and I roll over to my back, bringing both arms up to shield my face. My vision begins to waver, a tingling sensation that precedes one of the unexplainable blackouts I’ve been suffering from since my sister died spreads up the back of my neck, but before it fully takes over, someone grips my throat and slams my head back down into the ground. I hear my skull crack, feel the warmth of my blood sticking to the back of my head.
They kick, punch, and I try to fight back against whoever’s pinning me to the ground. I don’t even know how many are here with me, only that for the first time in two years, I don’t actually think I’m walking away from this one. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt—my body burning as if it’s on fire. Every muscle quivers; every bone aches.
A man roars, an animalistic sound that sends chills up my spine. Part of me recognizes him—which should be impossible since I can’t see a fucking thing with my eyes as swollen as they are. But it’s there—a sense of knowing, of hope that surges through me even as I fight to remain conscious.
Suddenly, the assault ceases. My eyes are so swollen I can’t see anything, the blood hammering in my ears making it impossible to hear anything more than the sounds of a fight. Grunts, thumps, and someone curses. Did Jack find me? A stranger? They won’t stand a chance!
“They’re not Hum—” I try to warn, my voice breaking with a burning cough.
“Fuck, Rainey,” a man’s voice, thick with an accent, is loud right beside my ear, and I feel hands slide beneath me. I struggle to get free, rolling, but with each movement comes complete and utter agony. Not Jack.
“I’m not going to kill you. Stop the damned thrashing.”
We start to move. I hear wind whirring past me as whoever carries me runs. The jostling brings a whole new level of pain, and I cringe as whoever is carrying me jumps. I feel us move upward, leaving my stomach on the ground, and I swallow hard to avoid puking when it catches up.
He sets me down on something soft. “Where’s your kit?”
“What?” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. It’s deeper, raspy, alien to me.
“Dammit, Hunter, where is your kit?” He slaps me, the sting pulling me back to the present.
“In the safe,” I choke out.
“What’s the code?” he demands.
“I—” I trail off, pain pulling me down into darkness.
“Stay with me.” Another slap. “What’s the code, Rainey?”
“Three-three-two-zero.”
No response, and I take a pained breath as everything around me begins to fade away, taking the pain with it.
14
Elijah
Racing into Rainey’s closet, I punch in the code on the pad of her grey Winchester safe. The green light illuminates on the keypad, so I fling it open and grab the bright red kit on the top shelf. I don’t bother to close it; there’s not enough time.
She’s pale when I reach her again, her skin having lost near all color. At least, the skin I can see. For the most part, she’s covered in her own fucking blood, and it’s tormenting me, the allure of it. My adrenaline and fear that she might die are the only things helping me maintain control over the bloodlust threatening to drag me down. “Rainey?”
No answer.
“Rainey?” I lightly slap her cheek, trying to bring her back, but she doesn’t budge. “Fuck!” Unzipping the kit, I grab one of the syringes filled with adrenaline. The hunters keep them if they need an extra dose to heal.
I just hope I’m not too late. I pull the cap off and hold the syringe up, driving it down into her chest right over her heart.
After plunging the liquid into her body, I rip it back out and toss it to the side then sit back and wait. “Come on, Rainey.”
They nearly killed her. In a fucking alley. What the hell was she doing down there? Why the hell would she go down barefoot? Had they grabbed her from her apartment when it was still dark? The balcony door was open, so it’s possible—isn’t it? And if they hadn’t, how did the asshole get into the alley without burning the hell up? Unless they were there all night…the thought has me growling. If they were, that means they were lurking there in the shadows, waiting for me to leave.
I never should have left. I’d been here nearly all night, keeping an eye on the damned place to make sure they wouldn’t look for retaliation now that she’s taken out one of their leaders.
But after seeing her awake, legs bare in the moonlight as she stared down at the world from the balcony, I’d had to walk away. Because if I didn’t, I might have stepped out so she could see me.
Swallowing hard, I get to my feet and head into the kitchen to grab a wet napkin to start wiping the blood from her face. Just as I’m walking around the bar, she sucks in a breath. I spin and rush forward as she begins to spasm.
I drop to my knees and put both hands on her to keep her from falling off the couch as the adrenaline surges through her, activating her body’s healing capabilities. Her body arches up of the couch as her face turns beet red. I hold my breath, waiting for it to stop.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she stills, slumping back down onto the couch. I release her and drop my head, taking deep breaths to try to calm myself.
I’ve only ever had to deliver an adrenaline shot to a hunter one other time. And that was Delaney, after she’d been jumped at an abandoned house thr
ee years ago. I’d needed her help, much like I need Rainey’s now, so her death was not something I could allow. That night was how I met her, and afterward, I decided that the rumors I’d heard about hunters my entire life were wrong.
Needless to say, there’s a lot of blood on my hands that I really wish I could fucking wash off.
After heading into the kitchen and getting a wet napkin, I return to Rainey and begin wiping the blood from her face. Her hunter blood is already at work healing her body. I can see that much based on the bruising steadily fading away from her face. I inhale deeply, the copper tang filling my lungs and enticing me in a way I’ve never fucking experienced before.
I push away from her, dropping the napkin and racing to the kitchen to put at least some distance between us. My hands grip the countertop, knuckles turning white as I fight to gain control over myself now that the initial threat is gone.
She’ll live. The ones who attacked her are dead. And her blood is the most delicious fucking thing I’ve ever smelled. I can see the top of her head, the hair matted with crimson, and I bring myself back from the brink by reminding myself she nearly died.
That’s what I need to focus on. Her blood? I can’t have it. Never.
Her phone buzzes on the counter beside me, and I check it. Probably better if no one heads here to check in on her.
J: What time do you want to head over?
Pursing my lips, I consider my response—or rather Rainey’s response—before replying. Deciding to stick with a generic answer, I go with the never-failing, I’ll let you know. Busy right now.
She coughs, and I drop her phone as I cross the room to her. Blood drips from the side of her mouth and I look away, breathing deeply. Never, in my over four centuries, have I wanted someone’s blood so fucking badly.
Never. And it’s shit timing that it’s happening now. With her. Even before, watching her in the alley, ripping her from the tunnels. I’m not sure if she was bleeding in the alley, but she was in the tunnel. I remember it.
But it hadn’t affected me then like it’s doing now. A drug calling to an addict.
With one last deep breath, I slip both arms beneath her and cradle her against my body as I carry her into her room. Her clothes are shredded, dirty, but I’m not about to undress an unconscious hunter.
No damn way I’d survive that once she wakes.
Instead, I lay her on her mattress and cover her with her sheet before returning to the bathroom and retrieving a towel. Quickly, I run it beneath the faucet, getting it damp before taking a seat beside her and wiping away the rest of the blood on her face. Maybe if it’s not on her, it won’t be as alluring.
With each stroke of the towel, I reveal more dark freckles on her olive skin, so I focus on that, on the beauty beneath the blood as my way of staying rooted.
She and Delaney couldn’t have been more opposite, even considering the age difference. Delaney’s skin was fairer than Rainey’s, her features softer. Rainey’s are more refined. Sharp jaw, slightly angled nose, she’s stunning.
And as I stare down at her, I can’t help but focus on her plump lips, the way she breathes steadily, turning into my touch. There’s a force within her that pulls at me as though my brain recognizes something about her that I don’t readily see.
All I know is that I can’t let her die.
The scent of her blood still hangs in the air, but it’s manageable now. I stare down at her, a part of me I thought long dead surging to the surface.
“Rainey Astor,” I whisper. “What am I to do with you?”
15
Rainey
Heavy knuckles beat against my door, pulling me out of sleep. Exhaustion weighs on me nearly as heavy as my aching muscles. I attempt to sit up, feeling my abdomen scream in response to the movement.
“Easy,” a masculine voice urges, having the exact opposite effect on me.
I roll over and grab the spare silver blade I keep beneath my pillow, palming it as I get completely off the bed and to my feet. My muscles scream in agony, my brain unable to process the pain, and I crumple to the floor, gasping for breath.
A shadow moves across my dark room, kneeling and lifting me. “I’m not going to hurt you, Rainey.”
Thick Irish accent. My brain searches for where I know that voice from—it’s not difficult to zero in on it. Not every day you come across an Irishman in Billings, Montana. Especially one who always seems to be lurking around when you need help. “You.”
He pulls me to my feet, and I step back before leaning over and flipping on my bedside lamp. Light pours into my room, and I gape at the man before me. At least a foot taller than me, he dwarfs my small bedroom with his incredible size. He’s all muscle, and a button-down shirt is stretched across his broad chest. Slacks hang low on his trim waist. Hair falls to his shoulders in dark brown waves, and ice-blue eyes pin me with concern. Strength and power radiate off him, washing over me in a delicious combination that shouldn’t have made my blood heat, given my current condition. But fuck me if I wasn’t turned on by it—by him. Even more attracted than I’d been the first time I saw him at the club.
“I’m sure you recognize me,” he says. “And I promise to answer all your inquiries, but at the moment, there’s a man beating on your door, and I’m not sure you want him to find you unconscious. Shall I answer it?”
“Dammit, Astor! It’s Ramirez! Are you home?”
I close my eyes, reaching down for my senses as I focus on the man’s heartbeat. It’s strong, slow, and steady. A human heart. Just like I heard that first night. Maybe he’s like me? “I’ll get it.” I slip the blade back beneath my pillow and stumble to my bathroom to check the state of my face.
Thankfully, the bruising is completely gone despite the fact I still feel like I was run over by a fucking semi. Or hit by a train. At this point, I bet those would feel better. My hair is matted with blood, but after tossing it into a bun, I can barely tell.
My shirt is covered in blood though, so I lean out and yell, “Be right there!” Before I grip the hem of my shirt and try to lift it over my head. The pain is sharp, instant, and I hiss through clenched teeth.
“You okay?”
Not too prideful to know when I can’t do something alone, I take a deep breath and call out, “I need he—”
He’s there before I even finish the sentence. “What do you need?”
“You to close your eyes and help me change.”
The man nods and shuts his eyes. He reaches down and grips the hem of my shirt, his fingertips brushing my bare skin. I shiver at the contact, and he continues pulling it up before tossing it to the floor, his hands falling to the sides of his body.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah.” He turns away, and I follow, covering my breasts with an arm as I limp to my closet and grab a black T-shirt long enough to cover my legs. Then, I walk to my bed and sit down on the edge.
“Can you help me again?”
He kneels before me, and I lie back as he slowly peels my blood-crusted jeans away. “You may want to put on pants.”
After he helps me sit, I cringe. My legs are still covered in dried blood. “Shit.”
“Here.” He retrieves a pair of sweats from my floor and helps me into them then wraps an arm around my waist and guides me to the door. As soon as I’m standing in front of it, I glance over my shoulder and watch him disappear into my bedroom.
With a deep breath, I open the door and stare at the terrified face of my partner.
“Shit, Rainey. It’s about damned time. I’ve been out here for fifteen minutes.”
“Sorry. I had to get dressed.”
He pushes past me and into my apartment before putting both hands on his hips and staring at me. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I think I caught something.”
“Caught something? It’s been two days, Rainey. I tried calling, and you sent me one text saying you were busy. Then another telling me you would be in when you got a chance. I had to call Jane
just to make sure you were alive. Thankfully, she said she’d seen you and you were being taken care of.”
“I was busy puking,” I reply. “And then the rest is just kind of a blur.” Two days? I was out for two days! Jane was here?
His face softens. “You should have told me. Kamie and I could have brought you something. I can’t tell you how many times I came by to make sure your bike was still here. If you didn’t answer today, I was calling it in and breaking down the damned door.”
Ramirez’s eyes focus beyond me moments before a man speaks. “There you are, Rainey. Oh, hi.” I turn, focusing on the stranger who’s stepped from my bedroom, shirt now unbuttoned and hanging loose. My mouth goes dry at the sight of the bared skin of his chest showing between the two sides of his shirt. Ridged muscle makes way for more ridged muscles, and black ink climbs up his entire torso, starting at his waistband and ending at his collarbone, before disappearing beneath the fabric of the shirt on either side of his body. Fucking-A.
“Who are you?” Ramirez asks, looking from him to me.
“Elijah Hawthorne.” He holds out a hand and shakes Ramirez’s as I shut the door and lean back against it. “Rainey and I are seeing each other.”
Ramirez glances over at me, the mistrust apparent in his eyes. “I didn’t know that. Rainey hasn’t mentioned that she’s seeing anyone.”
“We’re still pretty new,” Elijah—if that is his name—says as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. It feels a hell of a lot better than it should.
“Feels like it started yesterday,” I add with a pointed look up at my new boyfriend.
Ramirez studies me before finally letting out a breath.
“I don’t know if I ate something or caught something, but I swear I didn’t mean to sleep for two days. Have I missed anything?”
Blood Hunt Page 9
