Blood Hunt

by Butcher, Shannon K.

  “You’re not even willing to try?”

  “I’m not willing to risk disaster.”

  Maybe he wasn’t, but she was. He deserved to be happy, too, and from the way he looked at her, he wanted her as much as she did him. If there was a chance for them to find some joy in each other, she owed it to both of them to make it happen. Even if it was only a little fling.

  Hope broke his grip on her arms and slid her fingers through his hair. As soon as she had two fists full of his silky locks, she held him still while she went up on tiptoe. She pressed her lips to his, testing the theory that they’d be good together.

  At first he was stiff and resistant, but it didn’t take long for that to change. He yielded with a rough groan of defeat. His mouth opened and melded to hers. She licked over the inside of his bottom lip, tasting him as she’d been dying to do. He growled in excitement and she felt a shudder race through him. His hands slid around her, gripping her hips, pulling her body against his. Heat bloomed between them and she swore she could feel his heart pounding through their clothes.

  Her feet left the floor as he lifted her and pressed her against the wall. His body held her pinned, freeing his hands. Those long, elegant fingers caressed her face and neck while their kiss deepened. Her tongue traced over his teeth until she found the sharp tip of one fang. A thrill raced through her as her body remembered how good his bite had made her feel.

  Sweet tremors fluttered in her belly where his erection pressed against her. His scent grew stronger and darker as the fever between them increased.

  There was no more question in her mind. Despite the fact that he kept trying to set her up with other men, he wanted her. She could feel it in every rapid breath and every heated touch. Only a man who wanted her would kiss her like he was, demanding and thorough.

  She wasn’t going to let him deny it again.

  Hope’s fingers trailed down his back, enjoying the hard planes and contours beneath his leather coat. And while she totally dug the whole black-leather, bad-boy look, what she really wanted was to feel his naked skin.

  She slid her fingers beneath his sweater, shoving it up so he’d know she wanted it off. Instead of giving her the space to strip him bare, he held her pinned by her shoulders to the wall and took a long step back.

  A stain of lust darkened his cheeks and his lips were shiny from hers. His nostrils flared wide and his face twisted in a grimace of pain. “We cannot do this.”

  Her throat was tight as she fought the need to shut him up and get his mouth on hers where it belonged. “Why?”

  “Because it’s wrong.”

  “It felt right.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to gather his control. “You’re meant for another.”

  “Meant? The only person I’m meant for is the one I pick. And right now, I pick you.”

  He shook his head and stepped back out of her reach. “No. I can’t allow myself to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “To . . . feel strongly for you. My job is to see you safely in the arms of another. That is all.”

  She ignored the fact that he didn’t get to decide she was meant for anyone and focused on the more important issue. “You want me. You can’t deny that,” she said, her voice rough with budding anger.

  “I must deny it. Please. Don’t test me again.”

  His rejection hurt, which pissed her off. She didn’t know him well enough to allow him to hurt her. Why should she care so much if he didn’t want to be with her? She hardly knew him. Just because he made her feel good didn’t mean he’d done it on purpose. For all she knew that was an involuntary action on his part—a package deal with all the bloodsucking.

  Sadly, whether he should be able to hurt her didn’t matter. He had.

  Her tone came out flippant and snippy. “Fine. But you stay the hell away from me, understand?”

  “I wish I could. It would be easier for both of us. But I made you a promise, and I intend to see it fulfilled.”

  “I don’t need your help, Logan. Just go on with your life and let me do the same.”

  He reached out as if to touch her, but pulled his hand back before he could. “I’m going to help you. And you will help me. We struck a bargain, and we will both fulfill our ends.”

  He walked out of her room, but she didn’t follow him. If he didn’t want her, fine. She had enough self-respect not to chase after him.

  Chapter 16

  Synestryn kept attacking until sunrise, drawn by the dead woman’s blood. Iain finished off the last of them and wiped his sword on the fur of the closest one. Exhaustion hung heavy on his frame, but at least some of the pain had eased. He felt like he could think straight for the first time in days.

  Paul held Andra close, supporting her weight over the icy ground. Blood, severed limbs, and twisted bodies were everywhere. Little droplets of black blood froze along blades of grass, clinging like chunks of malignant coal. It was going to take at least an hour for the sun to burn away so much filth.

  “You okay?” asked Paul. He was breathing hard and each breath froze as it hit the air.

  “Fine,” said Iain.

  Paul nodded. “I need to refuel. We’ll be inside in a few minutes.”

  The couple shuffled off to find a clean patch of ground that wasn’t covered in blood. Paul could draw strength from the earth and feed it to Andra, who looked like she could use about a week’s vacation.

  Iain left them to it and went inside to check on the kid. As soon as he opened the door, he was met with the muzzle of a .45. Again.

  Jackie had a baby in one hand and a revolver in the other. A fierce expression twisted her mouth and made her gray eyes stand out.

  Iain waited there, giving her time to realize who he was. Slowly, recognition registered and she lowered the weapon.

  Her whole body seemed to sag as if the life had drained out of her. Her face was pale and she was shaking like crazy. She weaved on her feet and Iain was sure she was going to drop the baby on his head.

  He reached for the child and that gun came right back up.

  “Whoa.” He held his hands up. “Just trying to help.”

  “Your clothes. You stink of them. Go wash.”

  Iain looked down and sure enough, there were a few places on the front of his shirt where their blood had burned holes through the fabric. His coat had hung open, and the magic shielding on his leather coat hadn’t been able to protect the fabric.

  “Be right back. The fight’s over. Sun’s up. Relax.”

  He cleaned up, changed shirts, and came back out. The woman hadn’t relaxed. Not even close. She was still armed, watching out the windows, moving from one to the next as if something was going to jump out at them.

  “They won’t come for us in the daylight,” he assured her.

  “I’m not taking any chances.”

  “Except you’re holding a gun and a baby and shaking so hard I’m surprised you haven’t shot your own foot off.”

  She ignored him.

  “How about you set the gun down.”

  She turned then, and something in her face pulled at him, making him take a step closer. There was a vulnerability there—one that didn’t belong. From all accounts, this woman had spent years in a Synestryn nest, and not only had she survived, but several of the others they’d rescued that night had reported that Jackie was the reason they were still alive. She’d protected them as much as she was able, finding them food and warmth when there was none to be had.

  She swallowed, her eyes pleading. “I can’t set it down. My hand won’t let go.”

  He looked at her hand. Her knuckles were white. Tendons stood out, stretched to the limit. She’d been gripping it so hard for so long her hand had probably gone numb.

  Iain moved toward her slowly. He really didn’t want his head blown off because he made a sudden move around an armed, skittish woman.

  “I’m going to help, okay?”

  “I don’t want you to touch me.”<
br />
  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Something happens when your kind touches me. I don’t like it.”

  “Fine. Then give me the baby.”

  “No. I don’t trust you. I’ll keep him safe.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and stepped close enough he could loom over her. “The gun or the baby. I’m taking one of them. Your choice.”

  A helpless kind of vulnerability settled over her expression for an instant before she banished it. She squared her shoulders and slowly lifted her arm toward him. It was the one holding the gun.

  Iain nodded, accepting her choice, engaged the safety, and started prying her fingers away from the grip. The instant he touched her skin his luceria began to hum. The gaping hole in his chest where his soul had been before it died seemed to shrink. His monster—the dark, dangerous creature that had started growing inside him the day his soul had died—was lulled to sleep, and until now he hadn’t realized just how much control the beast had stolen from him. For the briefest second, he remembered what it was like to feel things deeply. Good things, not just anger and fear.

  The baby grunted, and rather than coldly calculating the odds of his survival, Iain felt something. Some connection. He . . . cared.

  The feeling rattled him so much his heart started pounding hard and he broke out in a sweat.

  “See?” she said, her voice tight and strained.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Please hurry.”

  Iain did as she asked and made quick work of loosening her grip enough to ease the weapon away. Her hand was curved into the shape of a claw, and without thinking, he massaged it, rubbing all the delicate muscles so they’d start working again.

  Jackie stared at him, but she didn’t pull her hand away. She let him ease her, which somehow served to ease him as well.

  His luceria trembled at his throat and finger, but he could detect no colors swirling in its pale depths. All the color had been leeched away by time and the decay of his soul. His lifemark was bare. His soul was dead. And no matter how excited the luceria got, there was nothing Jackie could do to save him.

  He was already dead. His body just hadn’t caught up with his soul yet, because he wouldn’t let it. There was too much work left to do. He couldn’t leave yet. His brothers needed him.

  Jackie tugged her hand away and shook it. “Thank you.”

  With her touch gone, the ragged emptiness in his chest opened up again. The monster roared back to life, thrashing around within Iain’s head. He had to grit his teeth and lock his knees to keep from staggering back in pain.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he lied. He was good at lying. It was the only thing keeping him and the Band of the Barren alive. “We should go as soon as Paul and Andra get back. We need to get the kid to Dabyr where he’ll be safe. And I need to bury his mother.”

  “His mother?”

  “She died in childbirth.”

  Sadness painted Jackie’s face. “That happens a lot with their babies.”

  “Whose babies?”

  “The Synestryn.”

  A quiet rage seeped in, filling him from his feet up. “That’s not a Synestryn baby.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He shook his head in denial. “No. It’s not. It can’t be.”

  “Look at his eyes.”

  Iain leaned over. The baby was awake, staring up at him. His eyes were blue. “What about them?”

  “Give it a second.”

  He kept staring, his hand on his sword. He did not want to kill this child.

  Then he saw it. A black plume of movement swirled in the boy’s eyes, tainting the iris.

  Iain stumbled back. “No.”

  Jackie frowned in confusion. “I thought you knew. I thought you’d found him in one of the caves.”

  He shook his head, his belly filling with acid. The baby had seemed so human. So perfect. He’d cared for it, cuddled it. And now he had to kill it. “Give it to me.”

  Jackie turned away, shielding the child with her body. “No.”

  “It has to die.”

  “You asshole! You’d kill him because of who his father was?”

  “It. I’d kill it. That’s my job.”

  She picked up the gun again, and stared at him with a look so feral he was certain she’d use it on him. “It’s a job you don’t have to do. None of their babies survive. None of them. He’ll last a day. Maybe two. That’s all he gets and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you take even one second of that away from him.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. I’ve seen it over and over. I wish I didn’t, but I do.” Pain radiated out from her, so strong Iain could feel it bombarding his skin. Whatever she’d been through, it had been bad. She’d witnessed horrible things. They all had. But that didn’t change his duty.

  “I can’t let it live.”

  “I will kill you if I have to,” she warned him, leveling the weapon. “He’s innocent. You’re clearly not. There’s no question for me about who should live and who should die here.”

  Iain didn’t dare test her. He knew she wasn’t bluffing. He could see her firm resolve in her stance, in her face. She would pull that trigger.

  If it weren’t for his carefully developed sense of duty, Iain would have let her. But he had to survive. The lives of too many of his brothers depended on it.

  “You really want to watch it die?” he asked her.

  “No. I really don’t. It breaks my heart and tears me up inside. I still see the faces of each one of the babies we lost in those caves. When he’s gone, I’ll see his, too.”

  “And you’re certain he’ll die?”

  “As certain as I am that I’ll shoot you in the head if you take another step closer.”

  He nodded. Fine. Let her have her way. If she wanted to watch the thing die a slow death, that was her business. But it wasn’t something Iain could tolerate.

  He walked out, got behind the wheel of Paul’s ride, and took off without them. Let them find their own way. He had things to do.

  Jackie stepped outside, making sure Iain was gone. As fast as he was driving, she didn’t think he was coming back.

  Good. She didn’t like the way he made her feel, all soft and weak.

  She cuddled the baby close, seeking the comfort of its tiny presence. As short as his life would be, there was still magic in it. She’d seen it over and over. Women found love they never would have known without those few hours with their children. Their heartbreak was soul-crushing, but for those few hours, they were happy and knew a special kind of peace only a baby could bring.

  Jackie stared down at him, uncovering his face just enough so that he could see the sun. None of the others had ever had that joy and she wanted to share it with him.

  “See,” she said, holding his little body upright. “That’s the sun. Isn’t it pretty?”

  The baby blinked and started crying like the light hurt his eyes. She hadn’t thought about that, though she probably should have. His father would have hated sunlight.

  She tugged the towel up to shield his eyes and noticed that as soon as she did, the black plumes rioted in his eyes as if the sun had held them back.

  A spark of hope lit inside her. She tugged the towel down again, letting sunlight spill onto his soft head without shining directly into his eyes.

  The plumes shrank and disappeared.

  Holding her breath, she covered and uncovered him several times. The black in his eyes responded as if hiding from the light.

  Maybe the sun was the key. Maybe all those babies in the caves died because they had no sun.

  She didn’t dare get her hopes up too high, but she allowed herself enough to fight back the desolate surety of death. This child could survive. The odds weren’t good, but it was possible.

  If he was to survive, he needed two special things: She needed to get him somewhere safe—back to Dabyr, where the Synestryn couldn’t reach him a
nd there were Sanguinar around to help keep him alive. And he needed a name.

  Hacksaw’s mind burned with the information the master had put into it. Even the pain of such a gift was its own kind of pleasure. He’d gained the notice of the master, which was something he’d only dreamed about.

  A thread of power connected the two of them, allowing Hacksaw to feel closer to the master than he ever had before. And while that leash hurt, he reveled in the agony that would allow him to please the master.

  Hacksaw went where he was led, driving into the city as fast as he dared. By the time he found the building where the master had seen the woman, the sun was already bright in the sky.

  Sunlight streamed through his car windows, blocking some of the pain screaming in his mind. For a split second, Hacksaw remembered a time before the master. He’d been happy then. He hadn’t hurt. He hadn’t been afraid.

  And then, as quick as the feeling came, it was gone again, leaving Hacksaw disoriented.

  Had there been a time before the master? If so he didn’t want to know about it. That time wasn’t important. The only thing that mattered was obedience.

  A search of the run-down building showed no signs of the woman. There was only one young man there, huddled in a corner against the cold.

  Hacksaw grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet.

  The man cried out in fear and batted at Hacksaw’s hands. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  “I’m looking for a woman. Pretty. Blond. She was here last night.”

  “I don’t know about any woman. I only found this place today. I wasn’t here last night. I swear.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No. I’m—”

  Hacksaw pulled out a switchblade and shoved it against the man’s throat. “Tell me where she is or I trigger the blade.”

  The man started to blubber. “I swear I don’t know.”

  Hacksaw’s thumb moved to the switch.

  The man’s words tumbled from his mouth, almost too fast to hear. “It could be Hope. She’s blond. I’ve seen her on the streets trying to get people to come to a homeless shelter where she works.”