Dying.
“Dee, babe, no—”
She fumbled. The knife slipped from her fingers. “Bastard,” she whispered. “Why…didn’t I…see y-you?” She’d been too weak with him, from the beginning. Needed him, wanted him—
Cared.
So dumb. She should have known better.
“You won’t die. I won’t let you!” His bared fangs came toward her throat.
“No,” a breath, because that was all she had.
“We die tonight!” Ian yelled. “Tonight! Brian, are you waiting for me?”
“We’re getting the hell out of here,” Simon growled and then he grabbed her, jerking her up against his chest.
Vampire. Dee tried to shove against him. Failed. Her hands just weren’t working right now.
“You’re not going any damn place, bastard.”
Dee’s head fell back against Simon’s shoulder as he turned to face the mouth of the alley. The exit that was blocked by easily half a dozen vampires.
Trap.
The human had been the willing bait. Lure. Should have known.
Stupid fucking rookie mistake. But she’d been so busy watching Simon, that she hadn’t seen the threat screaming in the shadows.
Simon.
She tried to speak, but choked on her own blood.
One of the vampires grabbed Ian. “Thanks for the tip, asshole.” The vamp yanked Ian’s neck to the side and sank his teeth deep.
We die tonight.
Ian’s gaze pinned her. “Ready?” His lips moved in a near soundless whisper.
No.
“Give us the bitch!” A vamp spat at Simon. “Hurry, before she—”
“You won’t touch her. You. Won’t. Touch. Her!”
Huh. Sounded like he cared. Lying bastard.
The drumming of her heart didn’t echo in her ears anymore.
No more.
Her neck began to sag. No, I’m still here! I can still think, still—
So very dark.
But she could hear the snarls. The vamps were readying to attack.
And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do.
This is the way it ends.
Hello, Death.
Ian, you bastard, I’d better not see your sorry ass in the afterlife.
Chapter 8
Simon kicked open the main door at Night Watch. His arms curled tightly around Dee’s limp body and blood dripped on the floor around him.
Her blood and his.
He’d had to bite and claw his way through that gang of vampires. He’d taken as many of them down as he could, then he’d run like hell.
Staying and fighting hadn’t been an option. Not with Dee bleeding out all around him.
The shifter must have caught the blood in the air because Jude Donovan came charging down the long corridor, barreling past the guards who had their weapons up, but who stared with wide, shocked eyes at Dee’s prone body.
Donovan shoved one of the guards out of his way. “What the fuck—”
Simon’s hold tightened around Dee. She was so damn still.
Donovan’s hands reached for her. Simon clenched his jaw and let the tiger shifter take her away. No choice. The vamps would be coming for him. He had to leave her someplace safe.
It didn’t get much safer than a hunters’ den.
Her lashes cast dark shadows on her cheeks. Such pale cheeks.
“Pak!” Donovan bellowed.
One of the guards ran behind the shifter, grabbed a phone, and immediately called for an ambulance.
“Won’t do any good,” Simon said, voice grim. “Doctors can’t help her now.”
Donovan looked up, his teeth lengthening, his nostrils flaring. “What did you do?”
Ah, now there was the problem. He reached out and trailed his fingers down Dee’s cheeks. “Not a damn thing.” Her flesh was warm. No longer chilled as she’d been in that alley.
Life, not death.
Why was it so hard for people to understand?
Footsteps thudded down the hallway. More hunters, coming to the aid of their fallen friend.
His thumb brushed over her lips. Those soft lips were stained red with her blood.
Simon dropped his hand. “Tell Dee…tell her I didn’t do a damn thing.”
Pak rounded the corner. Maybe he’d heard the shifter’s bellow or maybe one of the guards had buzzed him. Pak staggered to a stop at the sight of a limp Dee in Donovan’s arms.
Don’t leave her. Stay. The command came from inside, from the soul he’d all but forgotten in the last few years.
Stay. A temptation that almost broke him. She’d wake up. Confused. Angry.
She’d need him. She’d need—
No. The vamps could track him. They couldn’t track her.
This time, it wouldn’t be about what he needed. Simon met Pak’s dark eyes. “You’ll know how to take care of her.”
Pak flinched as understanding hit. “No…Dee?”
His head inclined in the briefest of nods. Then, one last look. Couldn’t help it. He had to see her once more.
Dee.
Donovan had dropped to his knees and spread Dee out on the floor before him. His hands were at her chest, jerking open her shirt and pressing against the wound.
It wasn’t bleeding, not any longer.
Simon swallowed. The game hadn’t gone according to plan. Not at all.
Fuck.
“Good-bye, Dee.” Simon turned away and went back to the darkness.
The darkness always waited for him.
And now, for her.
Dee opened her eyes and sucked in a sharp, hard breath. A fierce pounding filled her ears. Hard, too loud. A dozen scents assaulted her nose. Perfume, too strong. Cigars. Mint. A wild, animal scent and—
Voices buzzed in her ears. Dozens of them. The buzzing grew, louder and louder, turning into a mad roar—
“Dee! Dammit, Dee, look at me!”
She blinked at the thundering voice and her gaze flew to meet Pak’s glittering stare. Pak? How had he found her? She’d been in that alley, bleeding all over the place—
Blood.
Simon.
Vampire.
“Easy, Dee.” Hands were on her shoulders. Holding her in place. Holding her down? She glanced to the right. Saw Jude, his face white, his jaw clenched. There was something in his eyes as he looked at her, something—
Pity?
“I-I-” She sounded like a freaking frog. A really loud frog. “I was…dying.” Her hand fumbled, reached for her chest.
Her shirt had been cut away and she touched skin. Smooth, unmarred flesh right over her heart.
No, no, that wasn’t possible.
“Breathe, hunter. You’ll still need to breathe,” Pak told her softly.
Well, of course she needed to breathe. Everyone did. She took another hard breath and swallowed and realized that she was thirsty.
Very, very thirsty.
Her teeth began to ache.
“Are you in control?” Pak asked.
Dee could only stare blankly at him. Why am I alive? Did the knife miss my heart? Maybe the wound hadn’t been as deep as she’d thought, but there had been so much blood.
Blood.
The drumming in her ears pounded faster, louder. Her hand rose higher, brushing over the edge of her bra, and her fingers circled her throat. So dry. It hurt to swallow.
“Drink this.” Pak shoved a black mug into her left hand.
Pak had never led her wrong. Dee lifted the mug, and the liquid, sweet and rich and oh, God, good, slid over her tongue and down her parched throat.
More.
Greedy, desperate, she drained the mug in three swallows. “More!” The taste lingered on her tongue. Pak had been holding out on her. He’d never given her anything like this before and—