by Nina Croft
Jon led the way out of the office, through the bar, and into the cacophony of the street. He winced as the noise assaulted his eardrums. They stood for a moment surveying the scene as the river of people divided around them.
“A vow of chastity?” Rico shuddered. “Well, that was easy.”
“Too easy, and a load of bollocks.”
“So why did we leave?” Rico asked.
“I didn’t want Deke getting hit if the lasers started going off. So we need to draw the guards away, then get Deke alone.”
“You think they’ll come after us?”
“I know they will. Deke wouldn’t risk a fight in his office where there’s a chance he might actually get hurt, but he’s a greedy bastard—he’ll want that reward. So yeah, they’ll come after us.”
Jon searched the streets around him. They were on the main thoroughfare of the city. The road was wide, but every few hundred feet a narrower road would break off. These were well lit with gaudy signs advertising all manner of pleasures. He passed another flashing picture of Al and scowled. They were everywhere.
“Come on.” The sooner they got this over with the sooner they’d get back. And Jon would feel happier with Rico keeping an eye on that piece of shit, Bastion.
He led Rico down one of the side streets, then into a narrower alley until finally they left the bright lights behind.
“Are you planning to tell me why we’re here? Wherever here is,” Rico said.
“Because I want to give the guys following us a chance to catch us.”
“I didn’t think you’d noticed them.”
“I hadn’t. But I know Deke.”
This particular alley was a dead end, with tall buildings surrounding them and muting the sounds of the city. Jon turned and faced the rectangle of light at the entrance.
“Can we get this over with fast?” Rico said. “This place stinks.”
He was right. The stench was rank—as though something, maybe lots of things, had crawled into the alley to die. “As fast as I can.”
As he watched, figures detached themselves from the shadows. He counted six, and he glanced at Rico. In the dim light, the vampire’s dark eyes gleamed with anticipation.
“You want to run for it?” Jon challenged.
Chapter Seven
Rico cast him a look of pure amazement. “For fuck’s sake—there’s only six of them.”
Inside, Jon could feel the buildup of his own anticipation—his nerves strung like a taut wire, and he forced himself to concentrate. “We need to take one of them alive.”
“I’ll try and remember that.”
The men came at them like an arrow. A stocky, bald one in the center, clearly leading, halted three feet from where Jon stood. He recognized the man as one of Deke’s guards.
“Deke would prefer you alive. So why don’t you come along without a fight, and no one will get hurt.”
“Is he for real?” Rico asked. “How about, we stay, we fight, and all of you get hurt bad?” The vampire grinned as he dragged the sword from the scabbard at his back. The blade glinted silver in the subdued light.
The men inched closer and drew their laser pistols, so Jon thought it was time to draw his own. The grip felt good in his hand. He flipped the switch from stun to kill and stepped away from the sheltering wall. Without conscious thought, he found himself side to side with Rico.
He studied the henchmen carefully, recognized the moment of resolve in the leader’s eyes, saw his finger tighten on the trigger, and was ready when the first blast came at him.
He blocked the shot with one from his own laser. Then they were coming at him from all sides.
One ventured too close to Rico’s blade, and his head rolled to the stinking alley floor. Jon took the leader out with a shot to the chest and then, for endless minutes, chaos surrounded them.
It took him a while to realize the only laser still shooting was his own.
His breathing was heavy, but more from the adrenaline running through his system than from the exertion. He shoved the laser pistol back into its holster and looked around.
Five bodies were scattered around the floor of the alley. Rico was still dealing with the sixth, and Jon turned away from the sight of the vampire feeding. The sweet stench of blood hung heavy in the air, overriding that dead-thing smell. Jon wasn’t sure it was an improvement. The scent of death woke hungers he kept locked deep inside, calling to his wolf who growled and paced the confines of its prison.
Unlike younger wolves, Jon had full control of his beast, could decide when and even if he changed. Lately, he’d kept his wolf caged—he demanded too much loss of control, and without a pack to back him up it was rarely safe. Certainly not in the middle of a crowded city.
Now, he shuddered with the need to give in. He took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm himself, but the scent of blood filled his head, assaulting the precarious hold he had on his control. How long was it since he had run and hunted and feasted on warm flesh?
For the second time that night, a vision of his homeland flashed across his mind, and a longing to run free under the yellow moon rose up inside him. He pushed the image away. That was another life.
Squeezing his hands into fists, he forced his gaze back to the vampire. He’d finished drinking, but the body still hung limp in his arms. Rico raised his head. His face was stained red, his eyes glowing crimson, and behind them, a darkness lurked. No sign of humanity remained.
An urge to turn and run gripped Jon, but he held his ground and ignored the primeval fear churning in his gut. “We were supposed to take one of them alive.” He kept his tone casual.
Rico blinked once then seemed to come back to himself. His lips curved in a savage grin. “I forgot.” His grip loosened, and the body slumped to the floor.
Jon shrugged, feeling the tension drain from his limbs. He rolled his shoulders. His body felt good for the first time since he’d woken from the cryo; the anger purged from his system.
And it didn’t really matter that the henchmen were all dead. It had been a long shot these men had any information of value. They were low-level soldiers simply doing as they were ordered. People in that line of business should be prepared to die.
Jon was.
Now they could go back to Deke and have a nice heart-to-heart without his bodyguards getting in the way, persuade him it was in his best interests to tell them everything he knew. That’s if he did know anything. There was always the chance that he didn’t know who had set up the assassination.
Still, he had to have some information. Credits had changed hands. Where money moved there was always a trail. They just had to follow it.
Rico crossed the alley and leaned down over one of the bodies. His sword made a curious sucking sound as he pulled it from the man’s chest. The silver blade was stained dark with blood, and Rico wiped it clean on the dead man’s shirt before sliding it back into the sheath at his back. He bent down and picked up his laser pistol, holstered that, and turned to Jon. “What now?”
“Now we pay another visit to Deke. And this time we don’t play nice.”
“Good. I didn’t like the slick bastard.”
Jon flexed his fingers. It looked like he was going to get that chance to break Deke’s nose after all. He liked the idea.
When they entered The Longest Night for the second time that evening, the bartender glanced up, alarm flaring in her eyes. As she lifted her wrist to speak into the comm unit, Jon held her gaze and shook his head.
She lowered her arm and watched as they stalked across the bar. This time, Jon didn’t wait for the door to open. Instead, he drew his laser pistol, blasted a hole in the metal, and kicked in what remained.
Deke was already on his feet when Jon stepped into the room. He stared from Jon’s extended weapon to the ruin of his door then to Rico.
“Hey, you’re back.”
“We’re back. Why didn’t you tell your men to kill us?” Jon asked. “It would have been the sensible thing t
o do.”
Deke’s gaze darted to the monitor on his desk, and Jon edged around so he could see the screen while keeping Deke covered. He read the first few words. “You might want to look at this,” he said to Rico.
“What is it?” Rico came around the desk and sank into Deke’s huge leather chair. Leaning forward, he read the screen. “It’s the wanted notice from the Collective.” He scanned it quickly. “You’re top of the list, but they actually want us all. It goes on to say that if they get us all together, then dead is good enough. If they don’t get all of us, they’d prefer us alive—much better price than dead.” He frowned. “I presume so they can use us as bait.”
Jon stared at Deke, who was rubbing his hands down the side of his pants. “You’d have handed us over?”
“Of course not.” Deke sounded calm enough, but beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. “Actually, I sent my men after you because I remembered a name.”
“All six men? To tell us a name? This is a name from the Rebel Coalition?”
Deke nodded eagerly.
Suddenly, Jon had had enough. He wanted away from here, from the stench of greed and corruption. And lies.
He reached across the desk and grabbed Deke by the throat. Concentrating on his other hand, he felt the claws break free from his human skin. He raised the hand, now covered in dark brown fur, to Deke’s throat and rested one razor-sharp claw against his skin where he could see the pulse hammering below the surface. The scent of fear drifted in the air.
“Who really set up the Aiden Ross job?” Jon asked.
“The Rebel—”
As he started the lie, Jon pressed down with the claw, piercing the skin so blood welled from the wound. Deke struggled, but Jon held him easily as he scraped down along the line of the vein. The blood ran freely now, and Deke whimpered low in his throat.
“I reckon you’ve got a couple of minutes before you bleed out. So I suggest you talk fast.”
“I don’t—”
Jon squeezed, choking off the lies he didn’t want to hear. “I don’t care what you don’t know. Show me what you do. Who made the payments? Where are the original contact comms?”
Deke nodded frantically, and Jon loosened his grip and shoved him toward the console. He tapped in a few words, and information flashed on the screen.
“There, that’s all I know. I swear.”
Jon turned to Rico, who still sat in Deke’s chair. “What do you think?”
Rico studied the readings for a moment and nodded. He entered a code into the console. “I’m transferring this through to the ship. We’ll get Janey working on it. She’s the best there is—she’ll trace it to its source.”
“Good.”
Deke slumped against the desk, his head hanging low. One hand clamped over the wound but blood still dripped, pooling on the polished metal.
Deke had set him up.
He glanced at the vampire and nodded to Deke. “You want him?”
Rico shook his head. “Shit no—I’m full.”
Deke’s eyes wide with fear. “Jon—”
Jon flexed his claws and moved quickly, ripping out Deke’s throat. Deke collapsed over the desk, and Jon shifted his hand back, wiping it clean against Deke’s shirt.
“Messy,” Rico murmured.
“But effective. Let’s get out of here.”
…
They’d all gone and left her. Except for the Trog, and as usual he was down in the engine rooms. Alex had no desire to join him. She wanted to be out in the city, seeing the sights. Instead, she moped around the ship, with Mogg dogging her heels. Normally, the cat was confined to Alex’s cabin, so he was relishing his unexpected freedom.
Alex let him explore but followed closely and eventually found herself down in the docking bay. The exit was closed, but as she stood watching Mogg chase imaginary rodents, the green light flashed, and it slid open. Trog must be checking the systems.
Alex peered out into the dark cavern beyond. Her feet itched with the need to explore, but Rico’s warnings rang in her mind. An image of the vampire, Bastion, as he had looked at her last night, flashed in her head. So hungry. She told herself not to be stupid. To stay put.
But as she turned away, Mogg spotted something interesting on the other side of the opening and headed for freedom.
“Mogg,” she called.
He ignored her and scampered toward the open doorway. Through it, Alex could see the cavernous chamber, almost completely dark now.
“Mogg, come back!”
But Mogg was determined to make his escape, and he was out before she could catch up. Alex hesitated, her eyes adjusting to the dim light as she scanned for Mogg.
The red light on the exit was flashing, indicating it was about to close just as she caught a brief flash of movement. She took a deep breath and ran outside onto the soft black sand. As she stood peering into the gloom, the doors slid shut behind her with an eerie finality.
This place gave her the shivers; she swallowed the lump in her throat and wrapped her arms around herself trying to keep out the chill. Rico had told her not to leave the ship. And really, she hadn’t meant to. But would anyone believe her?
She stepped back, reached out, and pressed her palm to the panel. Nothing happened. Leaning in close, she spoke into the comm unit, but the systems must have been knocked out and nothing was responding. She tried the manual switch but the door remained stubbornly closed. No problem. She’d get Mogg, and they’d sit together until the systems came back online.
Nothing was going to happen.
Peering into the gloom, she searched for the cat, but with his black coat, he blended with the walls and floor. Finally, she caught the flash of his eyes—just as he disappeared down one of the dark tunnels.
“Mogg, no.”
Alex stood for a moment, unsure what to do. But the tunnel ran in the opposite direction from the one where Bastion had vanished only hours before, and Mogg was her friend. Had been her only friend when she’d been lost in the wilds of Trakis Twelve. No way could she abandon him now.
She hurried after him, the sand muffling her footsteps. Pausing at the entrance to the tunnel, she couldn’t make her feet move forward. A meow echoed from somewhere far ahead, and she took a deep breath and stepped inside.
This place was huge. What were the chances of running into the vampire? Really low, she’d bet. All the same, her hand strayed up and slipped inside her shirt, her fingers clutching the silver cross.
The tunnel meandered for what seemed like miles with Mogg always staying out of reach. Finally, it widened into a large chamber, with a bed at one end. The light was brighter in here, a central lamp casting shadows around the room. Her gaze locked onto the bed where a woman lay on the white sheets. Her head hung over the edge so her fall of blond hair spilled onto the stone floor. A crimson ribbon lay curled beside her. She was perfect—apart from a red wound at her throat. It was the woman Bastion had offered to Rico. And she was dead.
Alex swallowed and tried to control the shiver of fear that rippled across her skin. She needed to get out of there.
“Are you looking for me?”
At the softly spoken question, she whirled around. Bastion emerged from the shadows at the edge of the room, his blond hair glowing pale against the dark walls.
Alex froze in place, her muscles locked solid.
The deep blue of his eyes threatened to mesmerize her, and she shook her head, trying to clear the haze from her mind. She took a slow step back, and a smile played across his face.
“Don’t run away. I won’t hurt you…much.”
Fumbling, her fingers refused to obey her, but finally she managed to pull the cross from beneath her shirt.
His eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no other reaction. No running away…and her last hope fled. She was going to die here. Before she had even lived. Briefly, the idea of praying crossed her mind, but she dismissed it. Why would God answer her now when he’d been silent her entire life?
<
br /> Bastion’s eyes trapped hers once more. “Take it off.”
Her mind screamed in denial even while her hands lifted the chain over her head. She wanted to clench it tight, but her fingers opened, and the cross fell to the floor. Bastion laughed softly as he stepped closer, and Alex shuffled back until she came up against the cold stone of the wall.
His hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her upright, so for a moment she hung from his fist. One finger glided over her cheek, and needles of ice prickled her skin.
The finger trailed over her throat, lingering on the pulse point before moving lower to hook into the neck of her shirt then rip the fabric to her waist.
She bit back the small scream, determined not to beg. Besides, she knew instinctively it would do no good. All she could hope was the pain wouldn’t be too bad and she could go with some dignity.
“Pretty,” he murmured. His hand cupped her breast, where no man had ever touched her before. She didn’t want to respond, but jolts of sensation raced down to her belly and settled between her legs. Her nipple hardened under his touch, then he pinched it between his finger and thumb and pain shot through her.
He lowered his head and kissed her there. She looked down at the blond head against her breast and wanted to cry. Bastion scraped a fang down over the creamy flesh and a trail of blood welled up. He lapped at it with his tongue, and his eyes changed from blue to crimson.
She struggled, and he laughed again.
“Go ahead,” he murmured. “I don’t like them too docile.”
Subduing her with ease, he spun her around, and slammed her face-first into the stone wall, pressing his icy cold body against her back.
He leaned in close and kissed the back of her neck. “Please me,” he murmured against her ear, “and I may keep you alive for a while. Would you like to live?”
Not at any price, she realized. Besides, she didn’t know how to please him. She didn’t know how to please anyone.
He positioned her as though she was a rag doll, tugging her head to the side with a hand in her hair. His other hand reached around to squeeze her breast, slick now with blood—the fingers digging in cruelly so she couldn’t prevent the scream from rising up in her throat.
