He found what he was looking for three alleys over. The female had obviously tried to fight—the burning tingle in his nostrils told him that pepper spray had been used—but her lifeless body dangled over the shoulder of one of the leeches nonetheless.
Lowering the kickstand with a flick of his heel, he cut the motor and rose from the leather seat. The unencumbered vampire turned while his companion shifted her small body on his shoulder and began walking in the opposite direction.
“This doesn’t concern you, shifter.”
Diskant swung his right leg up, over and dismounted the bike. He took long, deliberate steps, making a steady and unhurried trek down the alley. The vampire in his path wasn’t much of an obstacle but he wasn’t supposed to be. Diskant recognized the game. It was a classic strategy he’d used with his pack on several occasions—the old bait and switch. One distracts the threat while the other gets away with the bounty. No fuss, no muss. Having a discussion with the vampire approaching would see that female long gone and, more than likely, dead.
He waited until he was nearly upon the vampire before he broke into a sprint, his long leather coat forming wispy tails behind him. Issuing a muffled plea for forgiveness, he plowed into the back of the vampire carrying the female and sent her tiny body soaring into the air. She didn’t make a sound when she landed on the unforgiving cushion of concrete and grime and he almost gave in to the temptation to see how badly she was injured.
Almost.
The vampires attacked him as one, delivering blows and kicks that were too fast to counter. A fist caught his chin just as a foot got too damn close to his balls for reproductive comfort. Another fist skimmed the surface of his stomach while another came at his nose. Dodging to the right, he met an unforgiving set of knuckles that made his teeth rattle. That was followed by a blow to his chest.
Goddamn vampire speed. Blood drinkers were superior in that regard but it didn’t really matter.
Shifters were stronger.
Diskant rotated his shoulders, threw the leeches clear of his body and called on the bear within. He smiled as the woodsy scent of grizzly oozed from his skin—fragrant, potent, feral. Lethal claws extended past his fingers while his teeth elongated, becoming cone shaped, the tips as sharp as razors.
While he wouldn’t win any beauty contests, the physical changes had the intended effect. Two swipes of his hands in either direction ravaged skin and drew blood, rending tissue in half as flesh peeled from bone. The stench of fear tickled like wet paint in his nose, burning his nostrils, and the expressions of the vampires when they got hip to who they were fucking with was priceless.
With a throaty roar, he issued challenge.
Supper time, motherfuckers.
It didn’t take a crystal ball to know what would happen next. The blows stopped, speedy footsteps echoed off the ground to the brick walls of the surrounding buildings and the cowards fled like the hardcore pussies and bottom feeders they were. The feral portion of him raged, wanting to track the lost prey but the man countered the desire, forcing his feet to remain exactly where they were.
He willed the grizzly to settle as he approached the small, motionless form facedown on the ground. No need to terrify the poor kid any further. A betting man would put money on a very valuable lesson learned tonight without his assistance. Claws retracted and his teeth returned to normal but the adrenaline remained. Nothing he could do about that. Only time would slow his heart and ice his temper.
At first he thought the dark strands in the short, spiky blonde hair were blood. However, when he took a knee and peered down he realized they were chunks of dark pink. She was smaller than he’d initially perceived, the size of an imp or a pubescent girl.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here.”
Grasping the denim jacket covering her shoulders, he flipped her over carefully and got the shock of his life. Though tiny, she was undeniably a woman and, like her frame, her features were delicate. A small upturned nose, lush berry-hued lips and thin mahogany eyebrows that arched over heavily lashed lids graced her face. Her blonde hair was cropped short in the back but left layered slightly on top. Never one to be attracted to short hair on a woman, he found the style enhanced her beautiful, pixie-like attributes.
He lowered his head and inhaled deeply, until his chest burned. The scent of vanilla bean, milk, cinnamon, sugar and pure female overwhelmed him. Damn if she didn’t smell good. Shifters could detect the alcohol in sprays or the disinfectant used in soaps.
But this…
This was the kind of scent a man could lose himself in—clean, fresh, tantalizing and arousing. His cock swelled and pulsed when he imagined peeling her clothes off, tasting her silken skin and then disappearing between her legs for hours to devour her cunt. He would part her seam, lick from bottom to top, tease her clit and lap her cream up like warm honey until she screamed his name over and over again.
She would taste incredible. He was certain of it.
He shook his head in an attempt to cool the powerful arousal coursing through his body like molten fire. Where the fuck had that come from? Fucking a human was asking for trouble. They were too weak to take what shifters wanted sexually and this one looked to be as fragile as fine china. Not to mention the fangs, claws and domination between the sheets weren’t very appealing to females who didn’t have a beast of their own beneath the skin. Likely she’d run screaming the minute he flashed his cock, told her to get on her knees and instructed her to take him between her plump little lips and suck.
Get a fucking grip.
He assessed her injuries, rotating her head from side to side. Aside from a purple bruise along her jaw and a nasty cut above her left eye, she appeared fine. There were no puncture wounds or signs she’d been bitten.
Odd.
Vampires glamoured, fed and left their victims where they dropped. On a rare occasion they took victims as feeders, forcing them into servitude, but that only happened when they tasted a rare vintage or found a donor impossible to resist. She was beautiful enough to warrant the second notion but his gut told him that wasn’t the reason.
Why would they want to take this female without sampling her first?
A shrill siren sounded in the distance, probably four or five alleys over, bringing things back into focus. First things first, he had to get her out of here. Questions would come after he got her home, cleaned her up, took off her clothes and tucked her into his bed.
Don’t even go there.
No, definitely not home. He would take her to the hospital. They could care for her there and see that she found her way home. Someone had to be searching for her. Parents, siblings. A lover or husband…
A throaty growl of rage crept up his throat.
Oh yeah. He definitely needed to drop her off and walk away. No strings attached. Reacting like this could lead to things he didn’t want to think about, like lifemates and bloodbonding.
He knew he was fucked the minute he lifted her in his arms and all the beasts beneath his skin growled in contentment, each one brushing against the inside of his skin. They came at the same time, fighting for a place to break free and make their own unique mark of claim. The animal forms he possessed had chosen random females they’d appreciated over the years, but never had they voiced approval at the same time.
Holy fucking shit.
The sensation was jolting and set him off balance. He stumbled with her in his arms like a sloppy drunk and struggled to remain in human form. He willed his beasts to back off and growled when they didn’t obey. Cold air caressed the beads of sweat on his forehead, cooling him down until he was in control once more.