When He Was Bad

by Shelly Laurenston, Cynthia Eden

  Cain sprang past him, the thrill of the hunt making him salivate at the prospect of catching the vamp’s throat between his teeth.

  The ground disappeared beneath his feet in a blur. The blood tickled his nose, the scent growing stronger, and his whiskers twitched.

  The land here wasn’t suited to man. The thick brush of the woods would soon give way to the swamp and marsh. The vampire would have a hell of a time finding his way out of the swamp, even with his enhanced vision and smell.

  There was a shift in the wind then. The faintest of moves in the distance that had Cain freezing in mid-crouch.

  The vampire was turning. Cain waited a moment, understanding. The bastard was circling back, probably realizing his mistake in fleeing toward the swamp.

  Oh, but he would catch him. Cain knew his black fur was perfectly camouflaged by the night. His movements were so careful that the vampire wouldn’t be able to hear him until it was too late.

  Such was the fate of all his prey.

  The vampire would regret coming back for another attack.

  He crept forward, head low, back arching. There. To the left, in that thicket, he knew the bastard was waiting.

  His muscles tensed. There was damn good reason the Indians had once given his kind a name that meant “the killer that takes its prey in a single bound.” Most never even had the chance to scream before he took them down.

  Cain launched forward, claws out, jaw open.

  And found the vampire waiting with a gun.

  Dammit. Apparently, the bastard was smarter than most of his brethren. And prepared for him.

  The vamp fired just as Cain jerked away. The bullet blasted across his side, leaving a trail of fire burning into his flesh.

  Not silver, thank God. Though the myths said silver only worked on the wolves, the true fact was that silver could poison most shifters.

  A fact the vampire bastard apparently didn’t know.

  Cain bounded across the bushes, hurrying for cover. The blazing pain combined with his rage, and a snarl burst from his mouth before he could control it.

  The vampire fired his weapon. Once. Twice. Again. Again. Cain dove into a large bush just as one of the bullets grazed his shoulder.

  Heavy footfalls. The vampire running again. Fast.

  Cain threw back his head. His mouth opened wide as he let out the rumbling roar of his kind.

  No mercy.

  His wounds would heal fast. No bullets had lodged in him. The skin and muscles would mend.

  And the vampire would pay.

  Cain sucked in a deep breath, trying to shake off the pain that weighed him down. There was no time for weakness. The asshole was heading back toward the two houses.

  Going back toward Miranda.

  Fuck.

  He snarled. Launched forward. The vampire didn’t get it. He was a damn jaguar shifter, and there were few things on this earth faster than he was.

  He’d take the vamp down, and a few bullets sure as hell wouldn’t stop him.

  Five

  She heard the sharp retort of gunfire, seeming to echo in the distance. “Oh, shit.” Her heart was jackhammering in her chest. Where was Cain? He’d better not be hurt. If he was, she’d kick the guy’s ass.

  Another shot.

  Screw this. She wasn’t going to keep hiding inside while all hell broke loose outside and two men risked their lives for her. She’d find Santiago or Cain, and do whatever she could to help them.

  Miranda’s fingers tightened around the steak knife she’d grabbed moments before. Not much of a weapon, sure as hell not something that could stop a bullet, but better than nothing, which was what Cain currently had.

  Carefully she eased open the door. Her gaze swept over the porch. The winding drive. Santiago’s car was to the left. She could just make out the edge of his trunk.

  That was where she needed to go. One step at a time. Check the car. Find the men. Simple enough plan.

  She used the house for cover as long as she could. Miranda had never had any experience trying to sneak up on a killer, but she’d watched enough spy shows to know to keep her head down and stay to the shadows as much as possible. She bit her lip as she moved, not wanting to make any unnecessary sounds. The hilt of the knife was slick with her sweat, but she tightened her hold.

  Just a few more steps.

  She caught sight of a man. Crouching. Moving alongside the car.

  Santiago.

  She breathed his name.

  His head jerked toward her. His fingers lifted to his lips and she instantly got the message, choking back any additional sound.

  His fingers were wrapped tightly around his gun. He crept forward and—

  Paul charged from the darkness. He grabbed Santiago by the shoulders, wrenched him around. “If you wanted to find me, all you had to do was bleed, like this…”

  Miranda screamed and lurched forward as his fangs shot toward Santiago’s exposed throat.

  Too far. Not enough time.

  The vampire had knocked Santiago’s gun out of the agent’s hands and his fangs were sinking into the man’s flesh, too deep, too—

  A snarl of fury had the hair rising on her arms. Not a human sound. Far too savage.

  A black shape charged from the darkness. For an instant, all Miranda could see were gleaming white teeth, a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth that put the vampire’s to shame, and then the animal sprang forward from the shadows.

  Jaguar. One huge, freaking scary wildcat. She’d seen one of them before, on one of those Discovery Channel shows, but, oh, God, the thing was big. Muscled. With claws that looked far more dangerous than the blade of her knife.

  Then the animal’s body was flexing, moving, attacking in a lethal glide of muscles and power. The jaguar slammed into the vampire. Paul shrieked, dropping his prey. Miranda grabbed Santiago’s arm and jerked him toward her, even as she swung out with her knife, catching the vampire along the right side.

  She felt the jaguar’s hot breath on her skin, and Miranda stumbled back. Santiago was moving now, cursing and wrapping his arms around her and yanking her away from the fray.

  The battle was brutal. The jaguar fought in a blur of movement. Claws. Teeth. Blood.

  The vampire was attacking just as fiercely. Swiping with claws of his own, snapping those fangs at the beast. Grabbing the large cat and tossing the beast onto the roof of the car.

  But the jaguar stood quickly. Launched off the car and caught the vamp in the chest with its front paws.

  The cat’s body vibrated with a fury she’d never seen before. The cat was incredible. Easily over seven feet in length and solid muscle. Its black head was broad, its nose twitching, its ears flat against its head. The jaguar’s powerful jaws were open, dripping with saliva. And its eyes…

  Glowing, golden eyes. Eyes that she knew well.

  Her lover’s eyes.

  Not an it, she realized, her mouth drying. He. Cain.

  Shifter.

  A shifter fighting, spilling his blood, to protect her.

  “Don’t get near him,” Santiago muttered, holding on to her with one hand and using the other to press against the wound on his throat. “He’s in a frenzy, and he might take you down just as easy as the vamp.”

  But he—

  A swirl of sirens. Screaming in the night. Coming closer. Closer.

  The jaguar hesitated. Turned his fierce head toward her.

  He doesn’t want the others to know.

  The vampire slashed out at him, sending the cat jumping back. Then Paul turned and pulled out a gun from the back of his jeans.

  “Cain!” She screamed the warning.

  But the vampire wasn’t trying to shoot her lover.

  He aimed the gun straight at her.

  Smiled his fanged smile.

  And fired.

  Santiago shoved her to the ground, two seconds too late.

  Her breath gasped out at the burning pain in her shoulder. Realization dawned as tears trickled from
the corners of her eyes. Holy shit, that bastard bit me, and he’s shot me, too!

  Snarls. A roar. The sound of claws scraping over metal. Then the jaguar was there, crouching over her, its warm body pressing against her side.

  “Easy.” The word came from Santiago.

  Miranda was still struggling to catch her breath. Speech was sure as hell beyond her.

  He’d shot her.

  A low mewling vibrated up from the big cat’s throat. She blinked, stared up at him, and became trapped in his heated gaze.

  He could kill her with one bite. Rip her throat right out. Or use those claws to cut her open.

  But he just lowered his head. Pushed his nose against her throat.

  “She’s gonna be all right.” Santiago’s voice was gruff.

  The sirens were close now. The sound grated on her ears.

  And the vampire? Where the hell was he? Miranda tried to get up—

  The cat snarled.

  “Stay down!” Santiago snapped.

  “P—Paul…” She was shaking now. And her shoulder was pulsating with pain.

  “Bastard’s gone.” Santiago’s hands were on her shoulder, and he was clamping down, hard. “Shot you because he knew Lawson would get distracted. Made a break for it the second you hit the ground.”

  Dammit.

  More sirens. The swirl of lights above her head.

  “Get the hell out of here, Lawson. You know they can’t see you.”

  But the jaguar wasn’t moving. Miranda lifted her right hand. The fingers were trembling as she reached for him. Her hand brushed over his fur. So soft. And wet. Her hand lifted.

  Blood.

  The jaguar was hurt too. And judging by that fight, probably even worse than she was.

  Santiago grabbed her hand, swearing. “Dammit, be careful! A few swipes of that cat’s tongue could peel the flesh right off your hand.”

  Miranda swallowed. Found she couldn’t look away from those golden eyes.

  Santiago was still muttering, telling her to stay on guard, but she just wasn’t afraid of the jaguar. Of Cain.

  Because in those eyes, she didn’t see an animal. She only saw Cain.

  But the cops were so close. If they saw him—“Go!” The word was ripped from her throat. “Dammit, don’t w-worry…about m-me.” Patrol cars roared onto the graveled drive. “R-run!”

  His body was tense.

  “R-run,” she whispered now.

  His gaze held hers.

  Then he turned and ran away, heading toward the woods.

  Her eyes closed. A tear trickled down her cheek.

  Fucking shot. What a damn bad night.

  “Shit! Miranda! God, cuz, what have you done to yourself?”

  To herself? Hell! At the clearly insane question, her lashes lifted and she glared up at Sam’s frowning face.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. Cain bounded through Miranda’s house, once more in human form. Maintaining the male body was hard, though, with the rage spewing from his every pore.

  The bastard had shot her.

  To vamps, even the normally vicious degenerates, blood was life. Precious. To be taken with teeth and mouth and tongue.

  It was never wasted. Not human blood, anyway.

  But Paul hadn’t cared about spilling Miranda’s blood. He’d been intent only on causing pain. To her.

  To Cain.

  And his plan had worked perfectly.

  Cain grabbed his pair of jeans, jerked them on, and shoved on his shoes. Screw a shirt, he didn’t have time to waste finding one somewhere in the couch cushions.

  He rushed toward the door, aware of the pounding in his temples from the shrieking sirens.

  She’s all right. The wound had been shallow. The vampire had wanted to kill her, but he’d missed her heart. Caught only the edge of her shoulder. Thanks to Santiago. Now he’d owe the human a new debt.

  Her blood had been on the ground. Her face had been too pale, but she was all right.

  Cain’s hand slapped against the screen door, sending it flying back as he ran outside. He’d had to trek back around the house, shift in the woods, then run, naked, into the rear entrance of her house to avoid detection when the cruisers had blared onto the scene.

  The humans were everywhere. Searching with flashlights. Guns drawn. Voices muttering.

  He’d barely escaped being caught in his animal form.

  And as for the vampire, well, it had sure as hell been his lucky night.

  But his luck wouldn’t last forever.

  His gaze scanned the yard, looking for the one human who mattered.

  He found her almost instantly. Miranda had been strapped to a stretcher.

  “This is crazy!” she was saying, voice furious, but a little weak. “It’s a scratch, okay? I don’t need to go to the hospital for some—”

  He pushed through the gathered deputies and EMTs. Caught her hand. So soft. “You’re going.” A white bandage covered her shoulder. It was soaked red with her blood.

  “Bullet’s out, but it cut her up like hell,” Santiago told him.

  Cain shot him a fast glance. Saw that someone had already bandaged his throat. Cain’s fingers tightened around hers. “You’re definitely going.”

  Her head shook frantically, the inky black strands of hair fluttering around her face. “N-no, I-I can’t leave. Paul—”

  “Is gone for tonight.” And now that the vampire knew they were hunting him, it was doubtful he’d be back.

  They’d have to try a new plan.

  Her eyes were so wide. “Y-you were hurt.” Voice softer now. An attendant began pushing her toward the back of the open ambulance.

  His wounds were nearly closed now. Shifters healed very quickly as a rule, but when they transformed, the healing process sped up about five times the normal rate. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Dammit, her blood was everywhere. He was going to make the vamp pay. Blood for blood.

  Cain stepped back when the attendant loaded her into the ambulance.

  Time to go. Santiago could handle the scene while he—

  A hand landed hard on his shoulder. “Just what the hell is going on here, Lawson?” Sam’s furious voice. “Why the hell was my cousin attacked? Why’d I get a dozen reports of gunshots tonight?” The questions fired one after the other. “And just why the hell are the Bureau folks acting like you’re the man in charge of this mess?”

  Glancing back over his shoulder at the other man, Cain bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile. “Because I am.” The attendant was trying to close the doors of the ambulance.

  Cain’s hand flew out, catching the edge of the metal. “I’m coming.” He wasn’t about to take a chance that Paul would get another shot at her.

  “No, Lawson, you’re staying right here and—”

  He shrugged, breaking the deputy’s hold. “Straighten him out,” he ordered a watchful Santiago and saw the man’s nearly imperceptible nod. Cain jumped into the ambulance, and the young blond woman checking Miranda’s pulse looked up. Her gaze dropped momentarily to his bare chest.

  The driver started the engine. The lights began to flash. Right before the doors closed, Cain told Sam, “This isn’t your game anymore, Deputy. So stay out of my way, and let me track Roberts on my own.”

  Sam’s mouth dropped open. “Paul Roberts is dead!”

  Cain threw a hard glance to Santiago. “Straighten him out,” he repeated, just before another attendant slammed the doors.

  At the hospital, a too-friendly doctor—Dr. Ben Abrams—stitched up the jagged wound on her shoulder, after ruling it as nothing more than a flesh wound. Then the doc discovered she had a mild concussion—courtesy of Santiago’s nice hurling of her to the ground—so Dr. Abrams sent Miranda to a sterile white room with not-so-friendly instructions to stay overnight.

  Dammit.

  When she went to sleep, Cain was sitting in the chair beside her.

  And when Miranda woke the next day, Cain was still there, but now he was wear
ing a shirt. One of the scrub tops that the doctors wore. Dark green. And he was sleeping.

  She stared at him, noting the shadows beneath his eyes. The tension that still lined his mouth.

  So much more than a man.

  Shifter.

  Power. Strength. He was—

  His lashes lifted. When he caught her stare, a little of that tension disappeared from his mouth as he smiled and said, “Hello, gorgeous.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, right.” Oh, jeez, but she sounded like some poor frog that had nearly been choked to death. What the hell was the deal with that? The paltry dose of pain meds? She cleared her throat and tried again, “I-I probably look like hell.” Better. Not perfectly normal yet, but a definite improvement.

  She’d been bitten, mauled, shot—no way was she going to win any beauty prizes.

  “You look beautiful.”

  For a creature with supposedly superior senses, he seemed to be missing a few things.

  Miranda tried to sit up and winced at the sting in her arm. Glancing down, she saw the thick bandage that circled her shoulder. “How bad is it?” It hurt, ached more than anything, but she really hoped Paul hadn’t screwed up her arm permanently.

  The smile stretched a bit more. “Don’t worry, in a few days, you’ll be as good as new.” A pause. “You just bleed like crazy, baby. You had everyone on the scene worried.”

  And Paul had probably been in the woods somewhere, salivating.

  “The doctor was in here earlier. He gave orders that you’re to do no major lifting or”—now his eyes heated—“any other too strenuous activity.”

  Oh, damn.

  He leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “So I guess we’ll just have to make certain I do all the work, you know, so things don’t get too strenuous for you.”

  Now, she sure liked the sound of that.

  “But first, we need to get you the hell out of here.”

  Her breath caught. “Can we?” She hated hospitals. Hated. Them. Had ever since she’d been a kid and her mom had been brought in to St. Vincent’s. Her mom had been sick, much sicker than a child could ever understand, and once she’d been wheeled past the sliding doors of the hospital, she hadn’t come back out alive.

  And Miranda’s life with Grandma Belle had begun.