Deadly Pursuit (A Blood Hunter Novel, #2)

by Nina Croft

  “Hmm. So will you tell them?”

  “I suppose so.” She took a deep breath. “When?”

  “What’s wrong with now?”

  Alex could have given her a load of reasons why now was not a good time. Why she needed about a year to prepare herself for the confrontation. Instead, she shoved her hands in her pockets. “Let’s go.”

  Rico and the captain were still on the bridge when they got back. Alex’s stomach churned with nausea. What if Skylar was wrong? What if the captain hated her for lying to them? For bringing the Church after them?

  She might even throw Alex out the airlock.

  Tannis raised an eyebrow in query. “What is it?”

  “Al has something to tell you both.”

  Rico rose smoothly to his feet. The vampire had never once touched her, but all the same he made her skin crawl with fear. He reminded Alex of some sleek predator when he moved, and she had to keep her feet glued to the floor to stop herself retreating. She watched, fascinated, as he came to a halt in front of them and leaned in close to Skylar.

  “Can’t it wait?” he murmured. “The ship’s on autopilot, Daisy’s got the next watch, and I had plans for this evening.” He kissed Skylar’s neck. “Interesting plans.”

  Alex shivered at the dark promise in his voice—glad it wasn’t aimed at her.

  Skylar stepped away. “Later. First…” Turning around, she gestured to Alex. “Al?”

  Alex shuffled her feet and cleared her throat as three sets of eyes focused on her. She opened her mouth to speak when everyone’s gaze swung away to stare over her left shoulder.

  “Shit,” a deep, gravelly voice said from behind her. “I thought I could smell something rotten on this ship. And here it is.”

  “Holy crap,” Tannis said. “If it isn’t ‘little’ Jonny come to visit.”

  A low rumble vibrated the air. Alex realized the sound was coming from Rico, and a primeval terror stirred deep inside her. This was what she had feared all along. Darkness glittered in the vampire’s eyes, and his lips curled back to reveal razor-sharp white fangs.

  Tension spiraled until it was a tangible force, and Alex was sure it would snap.

  Skylar reached out a hand and rested it on Rico’s arm. For a moment, it made no difference, and then the tension drained from him. His muscles relaxed, and a lazy smile replaced the snarl.

  “Christ,” he drawled. “Who let the fucking dog on board?”

  Alex turned slowly. Jon lounged in the open doorway, arms folded across his chest. He wore the black pants and shirt she had given him. The shirt was open. From the look of it, it wasn’t a fashion statement, he was just too broad across the shoulders for the sides to meet. The opening revealed a vast expanse of golden skin over the smooth swell of muscle, and a slow-burning heat started in the pit of her stomach. She forced herself to look away.

  Rico was dressed identically, but his clothes fit, which wasn’t surprising as both sets belonged to him. He was a sleek black jungle cat to Jon’s powerful predator.

  Tannis frowned. “Dog?”

  “He’s a goddamn stinking werewolf,” Rico said. “And he’s wearing my clothes.”

  “A werewolf? No freaking way.” Tannis looked from Rico to Jon and back again. “Really? Do they actually exist?”

  “Yeah, they exist.” Rico raised his head and sniffed the air. “Can’t you smell him?”

  Alex breathed in deeply but could detect nothing untoward, just a faint musky scent that was far from unpleasant. Jon didn’t appear in the least perturbed by the accusation though, nor was he denying it.

  Could he really be a werewolf? Did they even exist? Of course, she hadn’t believed vampires existed before she met Rico. Why not werewolves as well?

  Jon pushed himself upright from where he leaned against the doorway and stepped into the room. The bridge was suddenly smaller.

  He exuded an almost palpable sense of danger, and Alex couldn’t take her eyes off him as he strolled across the bridge and halted only a foot away from Rico. They stared at each other for long moments while Alex held her breath. They were pretty much the same height, though Jon was broader, bulkier. Alex had never seen Rico fight, but she had heard Tannis talk about it in almost reverent tones. And Jon was bound to be still weak from the cryo. What if he got hurt? The vampire might even kill him. She inched closer to Skylar. Skylar would be able to stop this.

  “Get back,” Rico snarled.

  For a moment, Alex thought he was speaking to Jon, but it was the rest of them he was referring to. Shaking off Skylar’s hand, he took a step forward.

  “Rico—”

  “Sweetheart—me and the dog have a couple of things to sort out between us. Like why the hell’s he wearing my clothes? So why don’t you sit down, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  Skylar’s eyes narrowed, then she shrugged. “Beat the shit out of each other if you want to. But he’s bigger than you, darling.”

  Rico grinned, flashing his fangs. “Yeah, but I have bigger teeth.”

  Skylar glanced across at Jon. “I wouldn’t bet on it.” She stepped back. “Come on, Al. Let’s give the…men some room.”

  Alex couldn’t believe Skylar was so calm, and it didn’t look as though the captain was going to be any help either. Tannis had already moved back and was leaning against the wall, an expression of anticipation on her face.

  Alex tugged on Skylar’s arm. “Stop him, Skylar.”

  “Who? Rico or the werewolf? They look pretty well matched to me. Besides, I don’t think either of them are willing to listen to reason right now.” She breathed in. “Can’t you smell the testosterone in here?”

  They were all crazy.

  Jon took a step closer. His eyes were changing, glowing amber. Feral.

  …

  The adrenaline coursed through Jon’s veins.

  After Al had left, he’d gotten bored of waiting in his cabin and finally ventured out in search of food. Also, he wanted to know how soon he could get off this stinking ship.

  But once out of the cabin he had to admit he was impressed with the vessel. She was a Mark 3 Cruiser but obviously extensively customized. The black and silver decor gleamed. The air was fresh—no stinting with the recycling, but beneath the freshness he caught the scent of death. As he’d followed his nose deeper into the ship, the stench grew stronger. Finally he’d arrived at the bridge, and even though he’d guessed what he would find, shock had held him immobile.

  Vampire.

  It had been decades since he’d even heard mention of them. He’d believed, and hoped, that they’d all died out.

  Maybe this was what he needed to clear the last lingering effects of the cryo. What would be ideal is if he could shift and go for a long hard run, but that was hardly going to happen. So a fight would be the next best thing.

  And if the vampire killed him, his problems would be over. He wasn’t afraid to die. On the other hand, he’d fought vamps before and survived; no doubt, he could do it again. They were almost impossible to kill, especially without the proper weapons, but you could hurt them, make them bleed. Vampires and werewolves were natural enemies—both predators and both territorial—they didn’t like sharing their prey. And vampires had a taste for were blood.

  His fists clenched at his side. No way was this blood-sucking monster feeding on him. It occurred to him fleetingly that if he seriously damaged the vampire, his welcome on the ship was probably over and he’d be out the airlock without a spacesuit.

  His attention had been on the vampire, but for the first time he took in the other occupants of the room.

  The “boy” Al was no threat. Now he knew she was a girl, she appeared different—quite striking with her red hair, pale and creamy skin, and huge gray eyes. Not that he was interested. Her gaze caught his, and she glanced away quickly. He moved on to the two women. They were armed with laser pistols, and both looked more than ready to use them, their hands resting lightly on the grips.

  One, with
her eerie violet eyes, was obviously Collective. His “sister” he presumed. Was no one on this ship who they said they were? He’d have to remember to thank her later, and then find out why the fuck she had lied and busted him out of prison. Not that he wasn’t grateful. Anything was better than the Meridian mines and a slow, painful death from radiation poisoning, which was where most prisoners ended up.

  The other woman was a GM. The effects of genetic engineering clear in her sinuous body and cold yellow eyes. He idly wondered if she had a forked tongue.

  He turned back to the vampire who appeared relaxed, his lean body loose, but Jon sensed the coiled tension and the eagerness in his gleaming dark eyes. The guy was big, but not as big as Jon, and the bloodsucker was unarmed. Well, except for the fangs. A vamp had bitten Jon once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again. Not that he could be turned—werewolves were immune to that particular side effect—but it had hurt like hell.

  His mood lightened. Yeah, this was definitely what he needed. How long was it since he’d been in an honest-to-goodness fight? Killing was his profession, but his business these days always seemed to be from a distance, and it always left a nasty taste in his mouth. Fighting the vamp would feel good—real good.

  He rolled his shoulders, easing the tension in his muscles, and heard the shirt rip down the back.

  The vamp’s eyes narrowed. “That’s my shirt,” he growled.

  “Yeah, I thought it must belong to someone puny.” He rolled his shoulders again and the material tore a little more. Grinning, he stripped off the rent fabric and tossed it at the vamp. “Have it back. It doesn’t fit anyway.”

  “Nice. Very nice.” Jon heard the muttered words of one of the women in the background but took no notice. The vamp didn’t try and catch the cloth, and it fell to the floor between them.

  He saw the moment when the vamp’s muscles tightened and readied himself. Jon’s vision narrowed, the rest of the room fading to nothing, his concentration fixed on his opponent.

  It still came as a shock when the vamp made his move, and Jon barely had a second to brace himself before the impact. Lightning fast, he slammed into Jon hard, pushing him back step by step, until Jon’s shoulders pressed against the smooth curve of the wall.

  He took a deep breath and lashed out with his foot, swiping the vamp’s legs from under him. The bloodsucker’s grip slipped, then tightened again, dragging Jon down as he fell.

  Jon landed on the bottom, his cheek pressed against the cool metal of the floor. He rolled instantly so he was on his back, just as the vampire reared up over him. Jon clenched his fist and punched him in the jaw. The blow hardly seemed to register, but it nearly broke Jon’s hand.

  “Can’t do better than that?”

  Jon gritted his teeth. Grabbing onto the other man’s shoulders, he smashed his forehead into the vamp’s nose.

  Jesus. The guy was like granite. But he heard the crunch of bone and the sharp acrid scent of blood filled the air.

  “Fuck, that hurt.” The vamp shook his head and blood sprayed across the room.

  “Don’t look so pretty now, do you?” Jon mocked.

  The vamp’s eyes narrowed as he licked a drop of blood from his lower lip. Then he raised his fist and punched Jon in the mouth. Fuck. A warm trickle oozed down Jon’s chin, and he resisted the urge to wipe it away. Instead, he bunched his knees to his chest between them and thrust out, hurling the vamp across the room so he crashed into a chair. Somebody swore loudly, but Jon ignored everything else. He rolled to his feet, charged, and slammed his head into the vamp’s belly, and they crashed to the floor again. He was vaguely aware of booted feet scrambling out of the way.

  They were rolling, each trying to get a grip. Pretty evenly matched in strength, each tried to get in the punch that would make a difference.

  Twisting, Jon freed himself and scrambled to his feet. His eyes stung with sweat, and he blinked. Blood smeared his chest from his cut lip, but the vamp looked no better. His nose was clearly broken.

  For a moment, their gazes locked. As Jon watched, the vamp slowly raised his hand to his face and licked the blood from his knuckles. Jon’s blood.

  Ugh!

  The vamp’s eyes glowed crimson now, and the tension in the room ratcheted.

  “Rico!”

  Someone spoke urgently behind him, but Rico seemed not to hear. He stalked toward Jon, his lips curled back revealing razor-sharp fangs.

  A flash of primordial fear rolled over him, but he held his ground. Shifting wasn’t an option in such a confined space, and besides, there was nowhere for his wolf to run. Instead, he concentrated on his right arm, heard the bones crack and the claws pop from his skin until it was covered in thick dark brown fur and ended in vicious claws. He flexed his fingers and smiled.

  “Come on. Let’s party.”

  They circled each other with focus. This time, Jon made the first move, diving for Rico and hurtling them both to the floor. They slid along the smooth surface and crashed up against the wall, the vamp on top of him, so close his cool breath skated across Jon’s skin. His nostrils filled with the scent of death. He used his free hand to grip the vamp’s throat, holding him off while he raised his clawed right hand and tried to get an angle so he could rip into the jugular.

  The fangs were only inches from Jon’s vein as the vamp pressed forward with inhuman strength. Jon’s arm trembled under the strain of holding him back.

  A laser pistol flashed behind them. Rico’s grip loosened, and he rolled away. The reek of singed flesh filled the air.

  Jon lay on his back, staring at the pattern on the black and silver ceiling. After a few seconds, he pushed himself to his feet ready to resume the fight.

  Rico lay on the floor with the Collective woman standing over him, her laser pistol drawn.

  “Ow. That hurt,” he said, rubbing his backside.

  “It was supposed to,” she snapped. “I did try and ask nicely.”

  “I never heard.”

  “No, you were having too much fun with your new friend over there.”

  “You know, I’m sure I remember you promising to love me forever. Not more than four hours ago.”

  “Actually, I said I’d think about it. And don’t be such a baby—it wasn’t even on full.”

  “It still hurt.”

  She grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll kiss it better for you later.”

  “Too right you will.”

  The vamp stretched out his hand. “Help me up.”

  The woman reached down and slipped her hand into his. A moment later, she was dragged down onto the floor next to him. Jon watched through narrowed eyes as the vampire kissed her. For a moment, she appeared to relax against him, then she pushed away and scrambled to her feet.

  The vamp followed her up and cast a sideways glance at Jon, but the animosity and tension had vanished from his features. He limped across the floor and picked up the torn shirt. He made to wipe his face but changed his mind and ripped it in half, tossed one half to Jon, who reached out and caught it instinctively.

  The snake lady strolled over. “So can I take it vampires and werewolves don’t like each other very much?”

  “I like them well enough for lunch.” Rico licked his lips. “Actually, they make good pets as well. We used to keep them back on Earth. Put a collar round their necks. Leash them. You could even train them to do simple things if you were patient enough.”

  Someone sniggered.

  Jon growled, and the Collective woman swung around and raised her pistol so it pointed at his heart.

  “I’ve got a pretty good idea Rico here will survive a laser blast. You”—she waved the gun in Jon’s direction—“I don’t know. But I’m willing to take the risk.”

  “Yeah, you can kill him with that,” Rico said. “But make it a direct hit otherwise they tend to get snarky.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered.

  Jon stepped closer. “Point a gun at me, lady, and you’d better be ready to use it.”
>
  “Oh, I’m ready.”

  “She is,” Rico added. “She shot me, and she loves me. Who knows what she’ll do to you—probably disintegrate you. That’s one tough woman.” He grinned with pride.

  Jon raised his right hand, still clawed, some inner destructive urge driving him on. Some need to see how far she would go. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

  And something slammed into the ship.

  Chapter Three

  The whole ship lurched sideways, hurling Alex out of her chair.

  El Cazador screamed under the strain, and the lights flashed and went out. They spun out of control, and Alex was tossed onto the floor like a doll. Someone landed on top of her, and the air whooshed from her lungs. She gripped on to whoever it was as the ship rolled, and this time she fell, presumably hitting the ceiling only to be flung to the floor again as El Cazador righted herself.

  “Shit.” The word sounded close. Alex thought it was Jon, but in the darkness, she couldn’t be sure.

  She lay still, waiting for the next hit. It never came. After a minute, the lights flickered back on. Except for people littering the floor, the bridge appeared in good shape.

  Searching around, she found Jon a few feet to her left. He was sitting up, rubbing his head. Her gaze clung to him for a moment, taking in the naked chest, then down the length of his arm. The claws were gone—his hand had returned to normal.

  For one horrible moment earlier, she’d been sure Rico was going to kill him. Or Jon was going to kill Rico. Either outcome wouldn’t have been good. She’d actually jumped to her feet, unsure what she could do, but ready to launch herself between them. They’d probably have torn her to pieces… She needed a gun.

  Luckily, Skylar had decided it was time to intervene, and she did have a weapon. Alex had slunk back down into her seat.

  Now, Tannis stood up, brushed herself off, and scowled. “That was no freaking warning shot.”

  Alex brightened a little at the words. Her immediate thought had been that the Church had come back for her. But as the captain said—that was no warning shot. Whoever had hit them had meant business. Maybe it was nothing to do with her.