Dead of Night (The Revenant Book 3)

by Kali Argent

  Sure, she’d gained heightened senses, but those newfound abilities extended only so far—usually within her immediate vicinity. She could run faster and farther than she had been able to as a human, but she didn’t blur through the woods in a streak too fast to see. While stronger than a fully grown, human male, she wasn’t going to be powerlifting cars anytime soon.

  Her added strength and agility did, however, get her to the top of the old oak within a matter of seconds. Standing on the uppermost branch she could find that would support her weight, she stared out over the forest, looking for a place a man on the run might stop to take refuge. She spotted a clearing not far from where she stood, and a stream about half a mile north, but she saw nothing that looked promising as a possible hiding place.

  “I wonder,” she called down to her mate, “if we’re going about this all wrong. I mean, no one can catch a scent, and we didn’t find any footprints.”

  Something tickled the fringes of her thoughts, an idea that hadn’t fully formed yet. Kamara dropped from one limb to the next, descending the tree with a confidence that bordered on cocky.

  “We think we’re searching for Duncan, but what if it’s the other way around? What if he’s following us?” She’d reached the halfway mark, but when she glanced down, she saw no sign of her mate or anyone else. “Nik? Nikolai?”

  “Stay there,” he called back, his tone cautious, guarded. “Don’t move, Kamara.”

  Spinning on the ball of her foot, she looked toward her right, following the sound of his voice, but still, she saw nothing. “Nik, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”

  In response, Nikolai roared, the sound filled with an equal blend of rage and pain as it reverberated through the forest.

  “Fuck this.”

  She had no intention of hanging around in a tree while her mate was in danger. Heart hammering, she sucked in a deep breath and held it as she jumped off the branch, falling the last fifteen feet to land on the forest floor. Leaves and twigs crunched beneath her boots, and the impact jarred her knees, but she barely noticed as she cut right and sprinted toward the east.

  Behind her, the last vestiges of day still clung to the trees, but the darkness had already swallowed the woods ahead of her, limiting her visibility. She kept running, dodging the spindly reach of low-hanging branches and hurdling fallen, moss-covered logs. It had been a minute, maybe two, that she’d been up in that tree. Nikolai couldn’t be far.

  “You won’t make it, not in time. Turn back. Save yourself.”

  Kamara stumbled, slowing her momentum, and she gritted her teeth as pressure formed behind her eyes. She didn’t have time for this shit.

  “Go back. Hide. You can’t help him. You can’t help anyone. You can’t even help yourself, my dear.”

  Her hallucination was a dick.

  “Shut up,” she muttered as she trudged onward, trying to concentrate on the sounds around her instead of the one in her head.

  A voice, low and angry. Two heartbeats, one much slower than the other. Steady footsteps that ebbed and flowed—someone pacing.

  Weighing her options, Kamara settled on stealth rather than brute force. Nikolai was alive, but she didn’t know how badly he was hurt, or if he was even conscious. Hopefully, the others had heard Nikolai’s cry as well and would come to investigate. She just had to keep them both alive until backup arrived.

  Slowing to a near crawl, she crept toward a thinning in the forest, a small area that contained only a few pine trees and a cluster of man-sized boulders. Slumped against the biggest rock, Nikolai gripped his right side as he watched Duncan pace back and forth in front of him.

  Kamara couldn’t see the blood that flowed from her mate’s flank, but she could smell it, and the sheer intensity of the scent alarmed her. The tangy fragrance saturated the entire area, and it was a testament to her anxiety for Nikolai that she hadn’t detected it earlier.

  “This is how it has to be. It was always going to end this way.”

  Duncan spoke so quietly that even with her enhanced hearing, Kamara had to hold her breath and strain to hear him. What worried her more than his words was the large stick—one end carved into a jagged point—that he waved back and forth in front of him.

  “You destroy everything. You take what you want, and you don’t care who gets hurt.” Pressing the stick to his temple, Duncan twisted it back and forth. “You’re all the same. All of you.”

  The scent of his blood mingled with Nikolai’s, and the embers that had been burning in her throat erupted into a raging firestorm. Her muscles tensed, her nostrils flared, and her gums throbbed around her canines.

  “You could kill him.”

  Her hallucination spoke so calmly of murdering a friend that Kamara found herself nodding along for a second.

  If it came to it, she’d do what had to be done, but she wasn’t going to kill Duncan if she could find another way. He clearly wasn’t in his right mind. Maybe he was hearing voices in his head as well.

  “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen what you do.” Duncan banged the stick against the side of his face. “I can’t get it out of my head. I’m afraid of you.” Pausing, he stared down at the ground and laughed a little wildly. “You know what they say about overcoming your fears.”

  Nikolai lifted his head, his dark eyes reflecting the moonlight. “You have to face them,” he answered, his voice weak. “Face what scares you to overcome it.”

  Stomping forward, Duncan pressed the sharp end of the stick against Nikolai’s throat, just under his jaw. “You have to die. All of you have to die.”

  Unable to wait any longer for backup, Kamara pushed away from the tree she’d been hiding behind and charged toward Duncan. Lost in his hate, his fears, or maybe just his own nightmare, he didn’t look up until she’d almost reached him, but by then, it was too late.

  Pushing off with her right foot, she dove at her friend, winding her arms around his midsection as she tackled him to the ground. The impact jarred her shoulder, but Kamara held on, rolling with Duncan through the mud, clinging to him as he tried to break free.

  “Stop it,” she yelled. “Duncan, stop. It’s me. It’s Kamara.”

  That did the trick. He paused just long enough for Kamara to flip their positions and straddle his chest, using her knees to pin his shoulders to the ground.

  “Kamara?” His eyes went straight to her mouth, likely to the tips of her fangs that protruded below her upper lip. “No.” He shook his head. “Not you. Not you.”

  “It’s okay. I’m still me.” She grabbed his hands when he reached for her and fell forward, using her weight to anchor them to the ground. “I’m not going to hurt you, Duncan. No one here is going to hurt you. We want to help you.”

  “You can’t help me.” An expression of pure loathing slid over his face, and he roared as he bucked wildly, trying to dislodge her. “You’re evil! You’re one of them!”

  She’d liked him better when he’d been whispering.

  His screaming hurt her ears and made it impossible to focus. Fire coursed through her veins and engulfed the delicate tissue of her throat as a ravenous hunger consumed her. The more he struggled, the harder it became to control herself, especially with the sweet, succulent scent of his blood wafting toward her.

  Just a sip. She wouldn’t take much, only enough to soothe the ache and satiate her thirst.

  “Just a sip,” the voice in her head whispered. “You’re in control. Only a little.”

  “You’re one of them,” Duncan repeated before spitting in her face. “You’re all evil. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill all of you!”

  Not knowing what else to do, Kamara released one of his wrists, cocked her arm back, and punched him right in the mouth. Duncan’s head snapped back, thudding off the soggy ground. He didn’t move, didn’t try to escape. He just looked up at her and laughed.

  “What happened to you?” she whispered, dragging her sleeve across her face to wipe away the spittle.

  Logically, she knew som
ething terrible had happened to all of them, and they each had their way of coping. Hell, she heard voices in her head. Like Cade, she could only remember flashes of her time with the Abraxas coven, but other than being attacked and converted, what she did remember had been mostly a crushing sense of isolation. They hadn’t tortured her, not that she could recall, and she felt like that was something for which they’d want her to be lucid.

  Evidently, that hadn’t been the case for Duncan, because he wasn’t merely traumatized. He’d become unhinged.

  His laughter morphed into deep, trembling sobs, but before Kamara could do more than blink at the sudden change, he reared up from the ground and snapped his teeth at her. Scrambling to remain atop him, she pulled her arm back, intending to hit him again, but the blood coating her knuckles commanded her full attention. Her fight forgotten, she brought her hand to her mouth, turning her head one way, then the other as she studied it.

  “Kamara, no!” Nikolai yelled.

  But it was too late. Slowly, methodically, she laved her tongue across her knuckles, shuddering from the taste as everything around her faded into nothing. She wanted more. She needed it. Her gaze locked on Duncan’s bleeding lip, and she screeched madly before lunging at him with her fangs bared.

  Before she found her mark, strong arms surrounded her waist and jerked her backward so that she tumbled and rolled through the mud. On the next roll, she shoved to her feet, growling at the intruder who had dared to interrupt her.

  “Kamara! Calm the fuck down!”

  Luca. She recognized the voice, the face, but it didn’t matter. His blood—though dampened by the fact that it was still inside his body—smelled just as amazing, and she wanted it. She wanted to bite and rip, to drink from him until the throbbing in her temples lessened, and the burn in her throat vanished.

  More people arrived, some aiding Nikolai, others trying to restrain Duncan, each with their own unique scent. They weren’t the ones standing in her way, though. With a fierce snarl, she sprinted at Luca, intending to take him down the same way she had the first male.

  “Fuck,” Luca cursed, but he didn’t move. He waited, feet planted, shoulders back, eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me do this.”

  Even if she wanted to, Kamara couldn’t stop herself. Lips back, nostrils flared, she flung herself at the human, but came to an abrupt stop when he caught her around the throat and lifted her into the air. She hung there, suspended for half a heartbeat, then plummeted to the ground where she landed with a sick squelch in the mud.

  “Don’t. Fucking. Move.” Kneeling beside her, Luca kept his hand around her throat in a loose grip, a warning more than a restraint.

  He needn’t have worried. The impact had jarred her back to reality, and all she wanted was to crawl under one of the boulders and die.

  “I’m okay,” she managed through her trembling lips. “I’m not going to go crazy again.”

  Luca eyed her for a long time before he finally nodded and released her. Standing, he offered his hand, shaking it at her when she hesitated to take it. Once she did, he yanked her to her feet and roughly brushed the mud off her back.

  “Luca, I’m so—”

  “We’re good,” he interrupted. “Go calm Nik down. I’ve got Duncan.”

  Despite his blood loss, Nikolai was basically losing his fucking mind. Snarling and growling, he struggled against Deidra and Miles as the pair fought to hold him down. His eyes flashed with murder as he tracked Luca’s movements, and it didn’t take a genius to understand what had triggered his anger.

  “Nik, I’m okay.” Hurrying up to him, she grabbed his face in both hands, forcing him to look at her. “Hey, I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me.” She stroked his cheeks, his jaw, his temples. “I’m okay. Look at me. I’m okay.”

  His movements stilled, and after blinking several times, his eyes finally lost the haze that had clouded them. Tilting his head, he leaned into her touch, nuzzling his cheek against her palm.

  “You can let go now.”

  The moment Deidra and Miles released him, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumpled forward. Grunting, Kamara caught him under the arms before he could hit the ground, holding him semi-upright until Miles and Deidra could grab him again.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood,” Deidra commented as if discussing nothing more intriguing than the weather. “That sucks.”

  Kamara glared at her.

  “He’ll be okay,” Miles interjected, recalling Kamara’s attention. “He’s already healing. He just needs to feed, and he’ll be as good as new.”

  Footsteps shuffled toward them, the crackle of dead leaves accompanied by muffled conversation.

  She didn’t know what Luca had said to snap Duncan out of his fugue—or maybe it had been the shifter twins—but he sounded lucid, rational, and repentant. Kamara hoped he’d be okay, that he could find some sense of normalcy and cling to it while he healed.

  She hoped for these things, but at the same time, if something happened to Nikolai because of what the human had done, she’d kill Duncan herself.

  “That’s sweet,” Nikolai slurred, looking at her through heavy-lidded eyes. “Don’t kill anyone on my account. I’m right as a daisy.”

  Kamara snorted. “Yeah, you sound great.”

  “Just tired.”

  “I know, sweetheart. We’re going to get you back to the cabin and fix you up.” Slipping between her mate and Miles, she wrapped an arm around Nikolai’s waist to help support him.

  Blood soaked his long-sleeved shirt, and she cringed when her hand encountered the gaping hole in the fabric. Looking over her shoulder, she found Miles watching her, and she shook her head.

  “He’s not going to make it back to the cabin, not on foot.”

  “I’m right here,” Nikolai said, his voice thick and slow, but no less indignant. “My hearing is working good.”

  “Nik, stop talking.” His deteriorating speech concerned her, but not nearly as much as the iciness of his skin. “You need to feed.”

  “Can’t.” He shook his head, and that simple movement made his steps falter and sent them both crashing to the ground.

  “Shit.” He needed to feed, and he couldn’t wait until they made it back to the cabin. Theoretically, she knew she could grow her fingernails into jagged claws, but unfortunately, no one had taught her how to do that yet. “Deidra, a little help?”

  When the she-wolf blinked at her, Kamara tilted her head to the side, baring her neck. Realization dawned, and Deidra took a step back, shaking her head.

  “Sorry, baby vamp, but I’m thinking that’s not such a good idea.”

  “Fine.” She turned to Miles. “Please. He needs to feed.”

  Miles shook his head as well. “Deidra’s right. You’re barely holding it together as it is. Letting him drain you isn’t just trading one bad situation for another.”

  “He will die right there, and nothing you can do will save him.”

  “He’s not going to die!” Kamara shouted. “He’s going to be fine.”

  Brow furrowed, Miles knelt beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Kamara, he’s going to be okay. I wouldn’t lie to you. If he was in any danger of dying, I’d tell you.”

  “He’s so cold, though.”

  “You would be, too, if you’d lost that much blood, but I promise, it’s not as bad as it looks. Please, trust me.”

  “You could do it.” Snapping her head up, she twisted around to look the vampire in the eyes. “You could give him blood.”

  His gaze softened as he shook his head. “Same deal, darlin’. I’m already running on half a tank, same as you.”

  “Then Deidra.” The idea of Nikolai feeding on someone else turned her stomach, but this wasn’t about her or some ingrained sense of possessiveness. This was about saving his life. “Sean? Nathan?” Frustrated when no one stepped forward to volunteer, Kamara hovered over her mate and growled. “Someone fucking help him!”

  “I’ll do it.” Stomping out of
the nearest row of trees, his white hair gleaming in the moonlight, Lynk Foster glanced at Duncan with a mix of pity and disgust. He crossed the distance in three long strides and crouched in the mud beside her. “How do you want to do this?”

  “Thank you.” She lifted Nikolai’s head and settled it into her lap so that his matted hair fanned over her thighs. “The wrist is fine. Don’t let him take too much.”

  “Lynk,” Miles said warningly, “be careful. I doubt he’ll be gentle.”

  Lynk arched a pale eyebrow at him. “He doesn’t even have fangs.”

  “Shit, right.” Threading his fingers through his auburn hair, Miles kicked a clump of mud, sending it splattering against the boulder. “Doesn’t mean he can’t still be dangerous.”

  “He’s not dangerous,” Kamara responded coldly. “He’s hurt.”

  “We’re all dangerous,” Miles snapped. “Given the right circumstances, any of us can snap, myself included.”

  Shuffling to his side, Deidra clapped the vampire on the back hard. “Mate, you’re not helping. Maybe…”

  “Maybe what?” Miles demanded.

  The she-wolf smiled sweetly. “Maybe you should shut the fuck up before I break my foot on in your arse.”

  “Come on,” the twins muttered in unison, leading Duncan deeper into the forest.

  “You don’t need to see…” Nathan began.

  “…what’s about to happen,” Sean finished.

  “Let’s do this,” Lynk muttered, scoring his wrist on his own canines. He held it to Nikolai’s mouth, but paused just a breath from his lips to look up at Kamara. “Don’t attack me, okay?”

  Her throat still felt tight and scratchy, but for the first time since waking up, Kamara was in no danger of losing control. “I’m good. Please, help him.”

  Exhaling in a rush, Lynk lowered his wrist to Nikolai’s mouth, pressing the appendage to his slack lips.

  “Come on,” Kamara urged as she stroked her mate’s hair. “Drink, sweetheart. Wake up and drink.”