by Cynthia Eden
Always, for her. “And I damn well didn’t let any of those other bastards touch you.”
The understanding was in her eyes, but Dee shook her head.
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Time for some brutal truth. “Do you know how long it’s been since a new Born came into the world?”
Her lips trembled. “Borns are ancient. There haven’t been any for thousands of years. They were some kind of genetic mutation. A messed-up mutation that gave rise to the vamps.”
To us. “What all do you know about Borns?”
The fingers of her right hand rubbed the wrist he’d bitten. Slow, steady strokes that she didn’t even seem to be aware of making. “I hunt vampires. I know everything there is to know—both about the Born and the Taken.”
“Not everything,” he said, voice soft.
Eyes narrowing, she snapped, “They’re young. I mean the Born change young. They’re strong. Stronger physically and psychically than the Taken. They can—they can control other vampires. Summon those in the line they create.”
Points for her. Time for hell. “Those vampires came to your home all those years ago for a reason, Dee. It wasn’t some random attack.”
“No, they wanted blood. They didn’t care who they hurt—”
“They came for you.”
She paled. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that about sixteen years ago, a level-nine demon made a prediction.” She’d been the strongest precognitive alive. Of course, after her prediction, the demon’s body had been found, minus her head.
One less precog demon around.
“The demon said a new Born was in the world, and that one day, she’d change, just like the others had changed so long ago.” Not so subtle emphasis on the she.
Dee’s lips parted. “No.”
No sympathy. No remorse. “The vampires came to your home because you were the predicted Born. They had to kill you while you were young, before you could change.”
“No.”
The air seemed to thicken around him. “They were under orders not to drain you. They were supposed to cut your head off.” No chance of her changing that way. “They weren’t sure when you’d transform, and the bastard leading them didn’t want to take any chances.”
She backed up a step. “Stop this! This is bullshit, I don’t—”
“They killed your family because they wanted you to be alone.
Helpless.”
A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. Blood red. Borns always 113
cried tears of blood. “If what you’re saying is true, why didn’t they come back and kill me? Why let me keep living all these years?”
“At first, because you disappeared.” And because Grim had killed his all-seeing demon. No one had been around to tell him where to find a missing girl. “Then Pak took you in.” Most vamps knew better than to cross him. “Others did come for you, but by then, it was too late. You’d learned to kill, and you were ready for the change.”
“Ready? Ready how? Simon, I don’t—”
Now he did lift his hand. His fingers brushed over her face. The clean, smooth lines of her face. She should have seen this for herself. “You stopped aging.”
She swallowed.
In her thirties, but she looked like she was in her early twenties. The woman hadn’t even realized it. She’d been too busy fighting. He cleared his throat. “You probably began to heal faster from your injuries, too, didn’t you? And killing, I bet it became easier.”
“So much easier.” A bit of sadness.
“You didn’t transform fully because you were still alive.” Tricky part here. “You couldn’t become a vampire until your human self died.” A little rule not everyone knew.
Her lashes fell. “Like I did in that alley.”
No denial now. She just sounded tired. Sick.
“Yes.”
She swiped away the tear and left a smudge of red on her cheek.
“Why should I believe this crap? Why should I believe you? You’ve been lying to me from the beginning.”
“Yes.” Again, a simple response.
She growled at him. He shouldn’t have, really shouldn’t have, but Simon found that small growl sexy.
“This could be some kind of sickass mind game you’re playing with me.”
“Could be, but it isn’t.”
Her hands went to her narrow hips. “Then how do you know all this?
How do you know?”
His gaze drifted over her face. He suspected she knew this, but he’d tell her anyway. If she wanted the words, he’d give them to her, and he’d brace for her attack. “Because I’m blood linked to the Born Master who killed your family. And from the moment I became a vampire, I’ve known there was a bounty on your head.”
The hunter—she didn’t know it, but all along, she’d been the prey.
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Prey who’d taken down every vamp who’d come for her.
And who’d made the Born bastard afraid.
Dee drew back her fist, and Simon knew the punch would be hard. He probably deserved it, though, all things considered.
Before the blow could land, a long, loud whistle split the night.
Dee spun toward the front of the house. “This is not my night—” She froze. “Tell me that’s not gasoline.”
But it was. The scent was thick and heavy in the air, because some bastards were out there, getting ready to torch the house, to torch them.
“They followed you.”
“What?” Her claws were out. Not as long or deadly as a shifter’s, but still able to do a whole lot of damage. “No way, I’m always careful.”
He shoved past her and headed into the small den. The gasoline scent was stronger here. Not much time. “You weren’t careful enough.”
“Simon—”
Something flew through the already broken front window. A Molotov cocktail. Shit. “Dee! Get the hell out!”
More burning bottles. They slammed into the floor. Into the walls.
Into the broken remains of his prized TV.
Then the flames sprang up like greedy bitches, racing across the floor and devouring everything in their path.
Trying to burn us out. No, just trying to burn them. He grabbed Dee and shoved her back into the bedroom. The flames chased them. The smoke thickened the air and he tasted ash on his tongue. He could see flames through the blinds on his window. Tall, dancing, red flames. They’d surrounded the house. Smart assholes. They’d circled the house with a ring of fire before sending the flames inside.
The better to trap them.
Vampires and fire didn’t mix. He’d seen too many of his brethren fall to the flames.
It wouldn’t happen to them. Not to Dee. He grabbed the tangled covers from the bed.
Dee jumped up and kicked the glass from his window. No fresh air came in, just more billowing smoke.
She hurtled through the broken glass and Simon lunged right on her heels.
Couldn’t see the sky. No stars. No moon. Only that hungry circle of flames, burning closer.
“We’re surrounded.” Dee’s tight voice. And they were. The vamps had planned well, and he’d been so distracted by Dee that he’d let them get 115
killing close.
Won’t make that mistake again.
They’d fed the flames, poured so much gas on the area that the air tasted rancid on his tongue.
“Burn, bitch, burn.” The words echoed in the night, crackling above the flames.
Not on his watch. He threw the covers over Dee, heard her grunt as he grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder.
Then he jumped through the flames.
The fire bit his arms and licked across the side of his face. Touching hell. The white-hot pain seared him, singeing skin and lancing flash in the seconds it took to leap through the fire.
They hit the ground. His arms were burning. The cover surrounding Dee blazed with fire. He rolled her, pounding at the fire, and the dirt
flew around them.
The pain—aw, fuck. He sucked in a breath, choked on smoke, and took the hot agony. Used it.
Dee shoved out of the cover. “Simon, what the hell were you—”
“Fucking bitch,” a snarl, too close.
Simon’s head jerked up and he saw the vamps closing in. Four of them. The survivors from the alley.
Shouldn’t have let them live. But his priority had been getting Dee the hell away from that place before any of the vamps had been able to make her death permanent.
Mateo came in first. The big, thick Italian was at least a century old, and he had one serious addiction to pain—giving it and hearing the screams of his prey.
He came at Dee, the claws of his left hand swinging toward her neck even as he brought up his right hand, a hand that Simon knew would be clutching a stake in that bulging fist.
“No! Dee, watch out!”
She twisted, her legs still partially trapped in the smoking covers as she fought to rise.
Simon jumped in front of her, and Mateo’s claws sank into his chest.
Shit. His teeth snapped together. Oh, but the bastard had been begging for a killing for far too long.
He slammed his head into the vamp’s. Handy little trick he’d learned from Dee.
But Mateo just laughed and that stake came up even as the claws twisted in Simon’s chest.
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Okay, a little help would be good right then. “Dee!”
Mateo’s eyes widened. His lips opened, a high keening cry gurgling up in his throat.
Then he slumped forward.
Simon looked over the stiff man’s body. Saw Dee. Saw her jerk the wooden stake from Mateo’s back. “Don’t worry, I got the heart.”
Uh, yeah, he bet she had.
He wrenched the vamp’s hand and the claws ripped from his chest.
Pain blasted through him.
Take it. Use it.
Simon didn’t look down at his body. Couldn’t. Not then. If he saw the damage…
“What are they waiting on?” Dee whispered.
His head shot up. The other three vampires stood less than five feet away. Their claws were out, their fangs glinting in the firelight.
He knew them all, just as he’d known Mateo.
Katya, the Russian vampiress, an ex-mob boss’s lover. She’d gutted the fool who’d loved her.
Vince, the newbie who’d turned less than a year before. So much bloodlust there, burning in his eyes.
And Leo, tall and dark, standing and waiting with that damn twisted grin on his face.
Waiting, all of them, just waiting.
“Who the hell are you assholes?” Dee demanded and damn if the woman didn’t put herself in front of him.
Aw, well, wasn’t that sweet. But, considering the way he was starting to waver on his feet, maybe it was necessary, too.
“We’re the welcome wagon, sweetheart.” From Leo. He crossed his arms, raked his gaze over her, and seemed to ignore the flames.
“Uh, yeah? Well, here’s a tip. Flowers work well. They say, ‘Hi, here’s a present.’ Fire, ummm, not so much.” The stake was in her hand.
Dripping blood.
Leo’s black stare drifted to Simon. “You sure this is the side you want to choose, buddy?”
Before he could speak, Dee growled. “Buddy? Hell, Simon, tell me you don’t know these freaks.”
A laugh from Leo. Should have been a warning. It was. “I’m the one who changed Simon, and Katya—”
Katya smiled. Don’t go there. Don’t!
“She’s the one who gave him his first vampire fuck.”
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Oh, great. Like he needed this shit. “Let’s just kill ’em, okay?” The talk was part of Leo’s technique. The way to distract. To weaken.
Dee glanced at the redhead. “How about that.” She fired Simon a hot stare. “Bad taste. You go for killers? Cause Katya, I’ve heard about you.”
The Russian liked her bloodbaths, so that was no surprise.
“I didn’t screw her, Dee.” The bloodlust had been riding him hard when Leo had brought him in to the pack. But he’d fought the dark temptation and Katya.
Katya wasn’t the kind of vampire he wanted. Dee was. “I’m not like them.” Could she see that?
Her eyes held his a second longer. “I know.”
“Bitch.” Katya pulled two knives from the sheaths on her hips. “I’m going to cut your head off.” Fifty years and the woman’s accent still rolled Russian.
A sigh from Dee. “Bring it.”
Katya lunged forward, knives up, fangs bared, she went in quick for a brutal attack and—
Dee drove her stake into the vampiress’s heart.
Katya fell to the ground.
“Next.”
He blinked. No, she hadn’t just said—
Vince screamed and barreled toward her. Oh, right, rumors said Vince and Katya had been an item since his change.
Dee scooped up Katya’s knives. Sliced fast and deep.
Another body hit the ground. This one, um, minus a head.
“You ready?” Dee asked a no-longer grinning Leo. “Or do you want to make things interesting and try to run?”
Yes. He’d been right about her. She’d be more than strong enough to kick Grim’s ass. The Born Master would go down.
This nightmare could end. Finally.
Sirens wailed in the distance. The cops were coming. So someone had finally noticed the giant ball of fire that was eating its way into the night?
“More will come for you.” Leo spat on the ground.
One shoulder lifted. “Let them.”
“You and the traitor—you’ll both die, screaming.”
“Uh, wait, let me guess.” A pause as she held up her hand. “Begging for death? For mercy?” A hard shake of her head. “Not my style. Didn’t do it the first time, won’t be doing it the second.”
Bright red lights filtered through the smoke. The loud blare of a fire truck’s horn had Leo jerking. “It’s not over.”
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“For you, it is.”
Simon’s knees hit the dirt. “Dee…” Too much pain. Too much.
Mateo’s claws had dug too deeply into his chest. He glanced down now, finally, and—bastard almost took my heart.
This wasn’t good. “D-Dee…” He tried to call her again.
But Dee, with her slightly scorched hair, shot forward and slammed her fist into Leo’s face.
Then Simon slammed face first into the ground.
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Chapter 10
He woke on a gurney. A mask covered half of his face and some crazy woman had her hand pressed hard to his heart. Simon’s hands jerked, snapping through the binds that held his wrists in place.
“Wow, easy!” That hand pressed harder. The woman stared at him, hazel eyes steady. “You go jumping up, you’ll ruin all my fine work.”
He heaved up anyway, and winced at the pull of—stitches? Yeah, she’d sewn up his chest.
“I didn’t do anything for the burns.” No, he didn’t want to look at those, but the woman, an EMT, trailed her fingers down his arm.
Pain pulsed through him and Simon sucked in a hard breath.
“Easy.” She glanced over her shoulder at the swarming cops and the firefighters with their blasting hoses. Then her eyes came back to him. “I stitched you up to stop the blood loss. I figured the burns would heal either before or on your next rising.”
Rising. A vampire term. So the lady with the curly brown hair knew what he was.
“I gave you blood,” she said, leaning in close and pointing to a bag that dangled near his head. “It took four bags to wake you up.”
“You mind giving him some room, Samuels?” Dee’s annoyed voice.
Simon almost smiled. Almost.
The EMT did.
“Jeez, I swear, if I didn’t know you were screwing that charmer, I’d think you were hitting on my vamp.”
Her vamp? Since w
hen?
Serious progress.
Samuels eased back and Simon got a good look at his Born.
Soot marked the right side of her face. The ends of her hair had been scorched, so the cut was even more screwed than normal. Her lips were red.
Her eyes big and dark. And when those eyes landed on him, horror filled them.
“Oh, hell, Simon, I didn’t know it was this bad.” She jumped into the back of the ambulance and hurried to his side. “What the hell were you thinking? Vamps can’t jump through fire. You know the skin of a vamp burns too fast.”
A weakness. One of only a few his kind possessed.
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Her breath came out in a long hiss. Her fingers hovered over the red, raw flesh.
He caught her hand. “Don’t look at it.”
Her gaze rose. “Your face…”
Then he remembered the flash of agony along his cheek.
But her eyes only flickered for a moment, then held his. “Tough guy, aren’t you?”
Like this was the worst that had ever happened to him.
Not even close.
“You’ve got to stop trying to protect me.” Her fingers lifted and brushed back his hair. Simon knew his hair had to be singed like hers. That, too, would vanish with the next rising. “You know I’m stronger than I look,”
she said.
A hell of a lot stronger. “You killed them all?” A guy could hope, because those assholes were trouble.
Her hand fell away. “No, your sire’s still breathing. Kinda, anyway.”
He flinched. This was the last thing he wanted. “What? Why? And where the hell is he? Humans are here!”
“Easy.” Why was everyone telling him that?
She glanced back over her shoulder. “Tony has him. He’s taking him to a private holding cell.” Her eyes returned to his. “Can’t really have him blending with the general population in jail, now, can we?”
Not unless they wanted a slaughter.
Someone slammed the ambulance doors. The siren shrieked on, wailing over his head. “I can’t go to a hospital! You know what will happen once they get a good look at me.”
She crouched and locked her fingers with his as the ambulance took off. “We’re not going to the hospital.” Her eyes didn’t waver. Didn’t look at the skin on his face that he knew had to look like it had been touched by hell.
