What could I say to that? That I didn’t trust the fact a werewolf could stay with one partner for more than a couple of days? That my heart wasn’t willing to give him the chance of proving me wrong, simply because I was afraid of him breaking it? How could I win what I wanted if I wasn’t willing to put anything more than my body on the line? That was a coward’s way, and up until now, I’d never been a coward.
I turned on the coffee machine and looked out the window as I reached for the coffee mugs.
And saw the thin, pale face that was almost the spitting image of the vampire we’d killed.
Felt the sudden thickening in the air, the charge of darkness and evil across my senses.
I barely had time to open my mouth and she was through that window and at me. She was thin and weedy and stinking of blood and sex and grief, and I knew I’d been right before, that it hadn’t been just one vampire who was killing the boys, but two. They were twins of darkness, one a blood vampire, the other an energy vamp.
She hit me in a rush, pushing me back and down. The back of my head cracked against the floorboards and the shock of it left me gasping for air. The vamp snarled, her breath fetid as it washed across my face. I looked up, saw fangs gleaming brightly in the pale kitchen light, saw them slash down toward my neck. I shoved my arms between us, felt her teeth slice into skin. Not to feed, but to mutilate, and maim, and kill. She twisted her head, dragging her teeth through muscle and flesh, slicing through both as cleanly as a knife through butter. Pain rolled through me, and I screamed. She sucked in the sound and an excited gleam flared in the dead, dark depths of her eyes.
This one was the energy vamp, not the other.
And then she was gone, thrown across the room like so much rubbish, and Ethan was hauling me up, thrusting me behind him.
“We have no weapons,” I gasped, cradling my wounded arm. Blood dripped between my fingertips, dropping to the floor, filling the room with its sweet metallic scent.
“Run for the car,” he said, “I’ll keep it occupied.”
He lunged for the vampire, but it moved so fast it literally blurred, swinging and kicking in one fluid movement. Ethan dodged, sucking in his gut, somehow avoiding the blow and landing one of his own. The vamp staggered back, then caught her balance and threw a punch. It landed in Ethan’s side, so hard I heard bone snap. He grunted, but didn’t back away, hitting the vamp a second time, his fist smashing into the vamp’s face and mashing her nose back against his face. Blood spurted, and she snarled in fury.
As much as I didn’t want to, I turned from the fight and ran for the door. We needed weapons and we needed them fast. But suddenly the vampire was there, her fist flying. I ducked, but not fast enough, and the blow hit my chin and sent me reeling backwards. I crashed into the table, felt it give underneath me, and fell to the floor amongst the ruins of wood.
Dimly, I saw Ethan and the vampire struggling, fighting, against the door frame. Saw Ethan being flung back, the vampire coming at me yet again.
I scrambled backwards, desperate to get out of her way. The jagged remains of the table speared into my butt and scattered across the floor.
Wood, I thought, and grabbed the nearest, sharpest bit, gripping it tight and thrusting it with all the force I could muster at the vampire.
The needle-sharp point arrowed through flesh and bone, straight into her heart. Fire flared where wood met flesh, and spread quickly across her body, the heat of it burning me, setting my clothes alight. She screamed, I screamed, and the smell of burning flesh and material rent the air. I struggled against her weight, trying to push her off me, but she wouldn’t move, wouldn’t budge, and I was panicking, burning…
And then she was gone, and Ethan was there yet again, tearing off my shirt and stamping out the flames before dragging me into his arms. He kissed my cheeks, my nose, my lips, and he was shuddering, shaking, as much as I was.
“Next time I ignore your instincts, feel free to knock me over the head with a baseball bat,” he said, after a while.
I laughed shakily, and pulled back. “I need to shift shape to stop the bleeding.”
He nodded and sat back. I shifted to wolf form, healing the wound enough to stop the bleeding, then shifted back to my human shape. “Well, at least that’s over with.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “I only felt one other presence. How long do you think they were living in that house?”
“Probably as long as the house has been around, if the bodies and bones are anything to go by.”
“But how could so many deaths go unreported?”
“I’m betting they mostly snatched tourists, or teenagers who were on their own.”
I guess as towns like this got built up, there were fewer drifters and farmhands that could be taken unnoticed—and that only left the unwary. “But why go after kids with families? Especially if they were trying to avoid notice?”
“Who knows? Maybe the lone tourists have been scarce and they had no other choice. Maybe the boys were simply easy prey.”
He shrugged and reached out, cupping my cheek with his palm, letting his thumb brush my lips. Heat slithered through me, an aching that was mind and body. And as I stared into his bright, watchful eyes, I knew that whatever the consequences to my heart, I had to see this thing through. Had to see where we went.
“Ethan—”
“I’m not asking for commitment, Grace,” he cut in. “I just want you to stop running and give me some time.”
I smiled and kissed his fingertips. “Time I can give.”
“Good,” he said, as that dangerously sexy light came back into his eyes. “So now, we can get back to our report making.”
I grinned. “Is this going to become a standard feature of our working together?”
“Totally.” His breath washed heat across my lips, sending anticipation and desire racing through my limbs. “Can’t think of a better way to get over the tedium of writing a report.”
Neither could I.
CURSE OF THE DRAGON’S TEARS
Heidi Betts
CHAPTER 1
HE WATCHED HER FROM THE SHADOWS, HIS BREATH speeding up, the blood pumping hard through his veins.
It had been years since anyone had set foot inside the walls of his refuge. Anyone other than juveniles up to no good, daring each other to cross the threshold of the eerie and reportedly haunted Castle MacKay.
But this one…this woman…was no adolescent bent on mischief. She was up to something.
He could tell by the way she glanced around, slowly and with great interest. And by the bags she was carrying, one thrown over her shoulder, the other clutched in her hand at knee level.
Long shafts of evening sunlight shone through the tall, thin windows, illuminating the specks of dust in the air and sending wavering slivers of blue and violet through the woman’s otherwise inky black hair.
She wore a loose pink top with some type of picture and writing on it, and a small golden cross that hung to just between her full, rounded breasts. Her legs were covered in denim, a thin black belt at her slim waist and sturdy brown hiking boots on her feet.
With a sigh, she let the duffle in her hand fall to the dirt floor, lowering the bag on her shoulder much more gently.
“This should be fun,” she muttered.
She twisted around, looking for a moment in his direction, and he jerked back, standing even tighter against the wall.
From the corner of his eye, he could still see her, but he didn’t think she’d seen him. If she had, she wouldn’t even now be walking back outside at a leisurely pace.
No, if she’d seen him, she would be running. And screaming in fear.
Only a few minutes after she’d disappeared through the castle’s main, if crumbling, entrance, she returned with a rolled-up sleeping bag, a worn leather satchel, and a large silver thermos.