Blood Hunt (25 page)

The man balled up his fist. Hope realized he was going to hit her and she tried to fight him. She shoved with her arms and legs, but not fast enough. That beefy fist flew toward her. The impact registered for a split second and then everything went away.

 

Logan was jarred from a deep sleep. Something was wrong.

His hand jerked to the dagger sitting next to him as he prepared to defend himself. He surveyed the back of his van, looking for signs of an intruder, but there were none. He was parked inside a locked, rented storage unit, and there were no signs that sunlight had breached his hiding place.

He felt a flash of fear, followed by a sharp pain. Instantly, he knew the sensations weren’t his, but belonged to someone close to him. Someone with whom he’d shared blood.

Tynan? Alexander?

Logan closed his eyes and concentrated. He sought out the source of that fear, hoping to feel it again now that he was alert enough to study it.

He felt nothing.

Perhaps it was a dream? That seemed unlikely. He rarely dreamed, though he had yesterday. He’d dreamed of Hope, of feeling her body tensing beneath his as she climaxed. He’d dreamed of her pleasure, of the soft sounds she made and the way she’d dug her fingernails into his back. He’d dreamed of her taking his blood, of accepting him and claiming him for her own.

Just the memory of that dream was enough to make him painfully hard. He didn’t have time to be distracted by lust. He had to determine what had woken him.

He closed his eyes, pulling his power around him. He let some of it fly out in a wave, like a ripple on a pond.

The magical disturbance bounced some of that energy back, and with it came the scent of Hope’s fear.

She was being attacked.

Rage detonated deep inside him, giving his weak body strength. The sun was still up, but he refused to let that stop him. Hope needed him. He had to go to her.

He shoved his dagger into his coat pocket and briefly considered the folly of his actions. If even a single ray of sunlight touched his skin, he’d summon one of the Solarc’s Wardens—the powerful, deadly warriors that enforced the Solarc’s curse upon the Sanguinar. Not only would the Warden cut Logan down for allowing the sun to touch his skin, but it would take with it anyone else in sight. The Wardens had no emotion. They felt nothing. They were programmed to kill, and would continue to do so until they were destroyed.

He had to be careful. He had to be sure that did not happen.

Logan found his protective clothing. He covered every inch of his skin, donning a mask and gloves, then sped out of the storage facility where he’d parked his van to sleep away the daylight.

The sun glared at him, as if detesting his presence. It was low on the horizon, but even so, Logan felt it draining his strength.

He concentrated on the part of Hope that was inside him, allowing it to lead him toward her. He couldn’t tell how far away she was, but what he did know was she was alive and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure she stayed that way.

The van’s engine screamed as he sped through the streets. He’d stayed near Hope’s home, unable to make himself go too far away from her. It was a silly notion to want to sleep near her, but one he’d been unwilling to resist.

Her pull on him intensified, telling him he was getting close. He took a turn too fast, his van lurching over the curb as it hit. A horn behind him blared at his mistake. Not that he cared.

He sped down the side street only blocks from the shelter. This part of town was run-down, having been mostly abandoned for the brighter, cleaner parts of town.

Another hard turn brought him to a private drive that had once been delivery access for several of the surrounding buildings. Now it was a dumping ground for old couches and rusted appliances. A toppled water heater barred his path, forcing him to skid to a stop.

He rushed out of the van, following the delicate connection he had to Hope through her blood.

When he rounded the corner and saw a man loading her limp body into the trunk of a car, he realized he hadn’t considered what he’d do once he found her.

Rage gathered like a storm inside him. He felt it crackle along his skin. Even with the sun weakening him, feral power roared through him.

How dare someone hurt Hope? How dare they touch her, dumping her body in a trunk like so much dirty laundry?

He was silent as he approached. The car was running. The man had accessed this area via another street, giving him the ability to escape by car if Logan didn’t stop him.

Logan was definitely going to stop him.

He gathered up some of his power, waiting for that bastard’s hands to be off of Logan’s woman. As soon as he laid her body down and stood straight, Logan struck.

He hurled that power out, slamming the man into the back wall of a brick building. His head hit with an audible thunk; then he crumpled to the dirty ground.

Logan hurried to the back of the car. Hope was curled up so she fit. Blood smeared over her face and neck.

Some of his rage burst free in the form of a bellow. The man who’d done this to his Hope was going to die. If he hadn’t already. But first he had to get her to safety.

Logan gathered her in his arms and lifted her from the trunk. He couldn’t heal her easily here. He needed to touch her skin, and if he bared his, he risked summoning one of the Solarc’s Wardens. If that happened, both he and Hope were dead.

He had to get her into his van where he could tend her.

Hope’s head was limp against his shoulder. He could hear her breathing and heartbeat, but he wasn’t going to be satisfied until she was whole and awake, looking at him with those beautiful golden eyes.

As soon as he knew she was going to be okay, he’d go back for the unconscious man lying in the trash. And drain him dry.

Logan laid Hope in the back of his van, pulled the curtain and door shut, and then removed his gloves and mask. The smell of Hope’s blood caused an odd combination of anger and hunger to roil in his stomach. For now, he couldn’t act on either.

He smoothed her hair away from her face and soaked up the warmth of her skin. While he would have enjoyed stroking her until she woke, he resisted the urge and focused on his task.

He let his power slide inside her, seeking out her injuries and knitting them shut. He closed her skin, being careful not to leave behind a scar. It took more energy to work slowly, but he couldn’t stand the thought of marring her perfect skin.

The small fracture in her jaw was harder to heal. But even that was nothing compared to the bruising inside her skull. He did what he could to heal her, but there was too much damage for him to finish the task as weak as he was. He made sure she was stabilized and retreated from her body.

He was shaking with effort. The sun was setting, but not down all the way. It bore down on him, sucking his strength, making every task ten times as hard.

He covered his skin again and moved to the front of the van. Nearby buildings shaded them from the last rays of sunlight, making it safe for him to open the door.

Logan went back to the human garbage lying on the ground and stared long and hard at the man who dared hurt his woman.

No. Not Logan’s woman. He couldn’t think of her like that. Just because he was drawn to her did not mean he could stake a claim. He had to stay objective. Distance himself.

With her lying in the back of his van, that was an impossible task. The need to tear her attacker apart and drain him dry of blood pounded on Logan, demanding he take repayment for the injustice done to her.

Logan dragged the man deeper into the shadows and lifted his mask over his mouth. He craned the man’s head back at a brutal angle and bit deep.

The taste of rotting filth filled his mouth. Logan jerked back, vomiting the tainted blood onto the ground.

Dorjan. This man was filled with Synestryn blood, protecting him from Logan’s hunger.

Logan’s body fought to purge him of every last bit of that vile blood. He struggled against the nausea that roiled in his stomach and the dizziness that spun his head.

The blood that flowed through that man’s veins was strong. The Synestryn that had infected him was powerful. Even now, Logan could feel the demon stirring, waking. If he didn’t rid himself of every last drop, the demon might be able to sense his presence, or even possibly read his thoughts.

Logan thrust up a mental wall to surround his mind. He kept his thoughts light, inconsequential. He didn’t look at his surroundings or allow any other image that might identify his location to pass by his eyes.

He gathered up the tainted blood that had escaped and forced it up his throat and into his mouth. He spat the rest onto the ground. It oozed toward him, and he scrambled back, avoiding its touch.

The man who’d stolen Hope moved behind Logan, rising to his feet. Dark red blood seeped down his neck where Logan had bitten him. The man’s eyes were wild, but filled with an uncanny intelligence.

“I see you,” said the man, though his voice echoed with an eerie hollowness.

That wasn’t the human who spoke. It was the voice of the Synestryn who controlled him.

Logan wasn’t strong enough for a battle of wills. Not while the sun was still up. Not when Hope needed every bit of his strength to heal her.

The human lurched forward, his legs moving awkwardly as if controlled by a puppeteer.

Logan scrambled to his feet and backed away. He needed to get back to Hope and get both of them out of here.

The human moved faster than should have been possible. He dropped to a crouch and sprang at Logan, teeth bared.

Logan tried to dodge, but his body was heavy with fatigue. Both the poisoned blood and the last bit of daylight served to weaken him until he was barely able to stand upright, much less combat an attack.

The man’s weight plowed into him, knocking him to the ground. Logan’s head hit the pavement, and he was stunned for a second. Something cold and hard slid over his back, and it took him a moment to realize that he was being dragged across the ground.

Toward the last, dying rays of sunlight streaming between the buildings.

Logan tried to clear his head enough to figure out a way to stop his slow, deadly progress toward the light. His hands were clumsy. His mind was clouded and slow.

He remembered his spare dagger, which he’d slid into his coat pocket earlier. He pulled it out and swiped at the man’s arm, slicing him deep. Dark blood poured from the wound, but the man didn’t slow or even show signs that he’d been hit.

The human was no longer controlling his body. His master was behind the wheel.

Dirty concrete slid under Logan as he was dragged closer to the sunlight.

He stabbed again. This time his blade hit bone and stuck.

The man lifted him up with his other hand and shoved him the last few inches into the light. Sunlight hit his chin, which was bare from his earlier attempt to feed.

The air around them shuddered and groaned as a portal was ripped open. Searing light burned Logan’s eyes. The ground shook and a horrible tearing sound deafened him.

The human turned and fled. Logan’s dagger clattered to the ground. He scooped it up, even though he knew it would likely do no good against a Warden.

The light died down just as Logan regained his footing. He didn’t dare waste even a second looking to see if one of the Solarc’s enforcers had appeared. He knew one had.

And if he didn’t get back to his van and drive her away, Hope would be slain.

Chapter 18

J
oseph rubbed his eyes. The headache that had become his nearly constant companion was back with a vengeance. Ever since that meeting with Andreas, it had been getting worse.

The stress of leadership was getting to him. He wasn’t cut out for this job. He’d never asked for it. It was just pure, dumb luck that had his people thinking he was the right choice to lead them.

It hadn’t exactly worked out well.

Gilda and Angus were dead. Jackie refused to choose one of his men despite the fact that she seemed to be compatible with all of them. Whatever had happened to her in those caves had left deep scars, and Joseph had no idea if or when they would heal enough for her to take her rightful place in the war against the Synestryn.

Joseph couldn’t even bring himself to ask Tori to search for her partner among the Theronai. She was still a kid, and the things she’d suffered were not the kinds of things that led a woman to trust a man. Ever. She needed time to heal—years of time they didn’t have.

Torr’s paralysis was gone, but the man refused to go out and fight. He was glued to Grace’s side, watching her die slowly. There was nothing any of the Sanguinar could do to save her, and they’d wasted precious resources trying.

The human women and children they’d rescued from a Synestryn nest a couple of weeks ago were not adjusting well to their freedom. The kids had nightmares. One of the women had killed herself three days ago, and Tynan had suggested that more may follow in her footsteps. He’d put all of them on suicide watch.

Demons were closing in around them. Some of them had human faces—something Joseph knew would cause even the coldest Theronai to hesitate in battle. Their vows to protect humans ran deep and the Synestryn were using it against them.

Things were falling apart. Even with the discovery of Theronai women in the world, they’d only found a few—not enough to turn the tide of war. His men lost more leaves every day, putting each of them closer to death. He’d had to sentence Chris to death only days ago, and he spent too much time wondering who would be next.

He had to do something—anything—to give his people hope.

Perhaps Andreas’s offer was the key to that hope.

Joseph had talked to several of his most trusted men, along with Tynan, who spoke for all the Sanguinar. They all agreed that ending the stagnant war with the Slayers—believing it wasn’t a trick—was a risk they had to take.