Suddenly Max blinked hard, confusion crumpling his face. “I know. You’re one of them now.”
“I’m still Talia.”
He began to silently sob, his anger finally giving way to grief.
“Oh, Max.” She bent close, meaning to kiss his cheek, but he reared away, nearly breaking free.
“Don’t bite me! For God’s sake don’t bite me!”
It was an addict’s cry not to send him back to that corrosive hell.
“Don’t bite me, Talia, please!”
She hadn’t meant to, but he shouldn’t have put the idea in her head. Talia felt her mouth going dry, parched as if it were stuffed with dust and ashes. His struggling didn’t help. Fear, struggles, heat, and the scent of blood and sweat added up to only one thing: prey.
Suddenly, Talia was shaking with hunger. She was starving. It had been days since she’d had a proper meal—too long for someone as newly Turned as she was. All she could see was fragile skin, all she could smell was his panic. Older vampires would make a game of seduction. She was too raw for anything but selfish urgency.
She began to salivate.
When she struck, skin would break with a springy resistance that reminded her of grapes. As her fangs breached flesh, there would be the first gush of hot comfort, and the blessed release of the venom. Her teeth ached with it, a pressure that built the hungrier she became. Now it would discharge, flowing from her into his veins and sending him into bliss. Oh, yes, she would give him a rush of pleasure.
In just a moment.
Unless she could hang on. She had to hang on. It was her brother. That would be weird and wrong. The first time, it had been a cruel trick. This time, she was in the driver’s seat. She could resist.
She hoped.
Max fought back, egging on the predator inside her. Talia couldn’t see his face and didn’t want to. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t something she wanted to remember. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she struggled against the urge to take him. She was panting, trying to find enough air to relieve the ache that racked her whole body.
Back away, back away, back away.
She could almost accept the blood-drinking thing. What she really hated was the loss of control.
A clattering of heels broke her hunger trance. The door burst open and Errata nearly smashed into them. Talia looked up, hoping she wasn’t sticking out her fangs like some B-movie Draculette.
The werecougar was staring at her openmouthed. “What are you doing?”
Duh, isn’t it obvious? Sucking on a victim just outside the local morgue. Saves on body fluid cleanup. How’s your night been going?
“Hairballs, something told me I should check on you. Talia, talk to me.” Errata took a slow step forward. “Who is this guy?”
Talia swallowed hard before finding her voice. It came out strained and hoarse. “My brother.”
Errata grabbed Max’s arm, pulling him out of Talia’s clutches. “Then don’t eat him. That would make Thanksgiving really awkward.”
Talia felt an irrational urge to yank him back, but reason was starting to claw its way through the feeding frenzy. Max flattened himself against the wall, glaring at Talia. Errata had her phone out, calling somebody for help.
Talia bent and picked up the semiautomatic, her fingers shaking with need denied. She couldn’t bring herself to look Max in the face.
So much for the movie-of-the-week family reunion.
Errata put away her phone. She looked from Talia to Max curiously, taking in his nondescript black clothes, the gun, and his glare. Her look said she had him pegged as very, very bad news. “What’s going on? What’s he doing here?”
“Is this your friend, Tal?” An unpleasant leer came over Max’s face. “I always wanted to meet a girl who was all pussy.”
His head whipped to the side, smacking against the wall. Errata’s hand had moved faster than Talia’s eyes could follow.
“Next time, the claws are out,” Errata hissed. “I don’t care whose brother you are.”
“Don’t!” Talia automatically stepped forward to defend him.
The malevolence in his eyes froze her where she stood. What’s happened to him? He was never this cruel.
But who was she kidding? Hunters killed monsters. Would they sweat a little rudeness? But he’s not like that. I know him.
Errata gave her a look that was close to pity.
The door slammed open again; this time Baines burst through. He flashed a badge. “Derek Baines, Supernatural Crimes Division. Stay right where you are.”
Lore arrived a moment later, his expression baleful. He looked at Errata. “The detective was standing right next to me when you called.”
When he caught sight of Talia, his expression said his worst fears had been confirmed. Detective Baines didn’t realize it, but he’d just found the elusive Talia Rostova. She slid the gun into her pocket and out of sight.
Baines took a step toward Max, but he looked at Errata. “There was an altercation?”
With her stomach turning hard and heavy, Talia began a slow fade down the hallway one step at a time. Until her name was cleared, she was in trouble if the police figured out who she was. If she was on that frickin’ registry, they’d hand her straight back to Belenos.
But this was Max. Was she going to abandon him? Was she going to sell him out as the gunman who’d shot Perry?
But he’s my brother.
The worst they had on him was nearly being eaten by his vampire sister. Max would be okay. Talia had his gun—they wouldn’t even pick him up on a weapons charge.
He shot Perry. He tried to murder someone.
But that was what Hunters did. That was the family business.
Perry had helped her.
But it’s Max.
Talia quickened her pace, panting from the tug-ofwar inside her. She’d put two doorways between herself and the cop. The harsh overhead lighting showed the lines between each floor tile, making the hallway into a game board of squares. Talia felt like a pawn sneaking out of the path of the rooks and knights.
Max shrugged. “Look around. Obviously you’ve got no reason to hold me.”
“Give me a minute,” Baines said dryly. “You’re already starting to annoy me.”
“Hey, I’m the victim. These chicks are psycho.” He pointed at Errata. “This one hit me and that one bit me.”
For the first time, Baines looked directly at Talia. She saw recognition light in his eyes.
Shit!
“Wait,” said Lore, a considering tone in his voice. “I know this guy.”
Max took that moment to shove past Errata and bolt in Talia’s direction.
Lore stabbed his finger at the running figure. “He’s the gunman from the university!”
“What?” Errata exclaimed, a world of trouble in the one word.
Max moved fast, pumping arms and legs in a desperate rush to freedom. He covered the distance to Talia in a few strides. Instinctively, she grabbed for his arm. She felt her sharp nails dig into the cloth of his jacket, tearing through to the skin beneath, but he kept running, shaking her off as if she were a pesky dog.
Talia stumbled, bouncing off the wall, but lunged after him. “Max! Come back!”
Her boots slid on the polished floor, struggling for a grip. She heard Lore calling her name, but her eyes fixed on the back of Max’s jacket.
She couldn’t leave everything unresolved. He couldn’t get away.
With a thunder of echoing footfalls, the others were coming after them. Baines was human-slow and would be left at the back of the pack. Talia, on the other hand, was a vampire with a head start. There was no way Max could outrun her. She dodged after him as he took a right turn. Signs hung from the ceiling, announcing what lay down each corridor, but they flashed by before she could read them. Smells told her they were places with plenty of chemicals and equipment. These weren’t the places where healing was done.