Blood Hunt (5 page)

Her blood was weak, but once he’d taken it all, he felt better. Stronger.

Krag shoved her corpse to the floor, then motioned for her to be taken away. Let the lesser Synestryn feast on her flesh and bones. He had no more use for her.

 

Hope opened her eyes, already knowing that Logan was gone. She couldn’t feel his presence or that consuming pleasure he’d given her.

Fear wove through her for a moment, but she wasn’t sure if it was fear of the man, or fear caused by the fact she knew he was gone.

A plump, dark-haired nurse hovered over Hope. She couldn’t remember the woman, but the way she was looking at Hope with tears in her eyes made her wonder if she shouldn’t.

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Hope blinked a few times to make sure that blurry vision wasn’t making her see concern that wasn’t real. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Barb,” she said, her tone of expectation telling Hope she
should
know the woman.

Was her memory getting worse? Was she losing more chunks of time? Hope pushed herself up in a panic and looked around, hoping it would clear her head.

She was surrounded by a striped curtain. Beyond that curtain, she could hear voices and the low moans of a man in pain. Disinfectant laced the stale air. A machine beeped insistently in the background. An IV bag hung above her, feeding fluids into the back of her hand.

A hospital. That’s where she was.

Hope didn’t know how she got here. The last thing she remembered was Logan. He’d grabbed her and . . . bitten her neck.

Her hand flew to the spot, feeling only smooth, whole skin.

“What is it, honey?” asked Barb.

“Do you see anything? Any marks on my neck?”

Barb leaned forward and brushed Hope’s hair away. “It’s a little red. Does it hurt?”

“No.” Her skin tingled, and there was a throbbing warmth, but that was all. “Who brought me in?”

Barb frowned as if trying to remember. “A man. Tall. Dark hair. Do you know him?”

That description could be almost anyone. Or it could have been Logan. Either way the answer was the same. “No.”

“The doctor will be in to see you soon. We couldn’t find any injuries. Do you know what happened?”

Hope shook her head. What she thought had happened couldn’t have. It wasn’t possible. Either the stranger had bitten her and left marks, or he hadn’t bitten her at all. Those were the only options.

Weren’t they?

A wave of dizziness slid over her, and she shut her eyes to let it pass.

The smells of the hospital assaulted her nose, dragging from her memories of the last time she’d been here—the night Sister Olive had found her in the empty Tyler building and brought her here, insisting she get checked out. Hope had no injuries then, either. Nothing that explained her amnesia. She hadn’t known her name or how old she was. Hope still didn’t know. No one had claimed her. The only thing that had been in her possession was a wooden amulet clutched in her fist. The name Hope Serrien was burned into it.

She didn’t even know if that was her real name.

That had been a decade ago and Hope still had no answers. All she had was a nagging sense of duty—that there was some vital task only she could complete. Every day that went by that didn’t reveal her task left her feeling more restless and defeated.

There was something inside her—some forgotten knowledge she could almost put her finger on. It was there, evading her grasp, but she knew it was there. When Logan had been holding her, she’d almost been able to remember why she was here.

“I need to go,” said Hope.

Barb shook her head. “Not until we know what happened. It’s not safe.”

Hope had to find him. She had to find Logan and figure out what he knew. Maybe he knew who she was.
What
she was.

“I’m leaving. Bring me whatever paperwork you need me to sign, but do it fast. I won’t wait.”

Whoever Logan was, Hope didn’t want him to get far. She was going to find him. And then she was going to force him to give her the answers she needed. One way or another.

 

Logan met Steve and Pam in their apartment. They were fine. All three of them. Logan called Joseph—the leader of the Theronai—and asked him to send someone to guard them so they could rest. He then did what he could to remove the memory of tonight from their minds. He didn’t want them to worry—didn’t want the memory to draw more demons to them.

Tomorrow the couple would go to Dabyr, where they’d be safe. After tonight’s attack, living in the city was no longer an option for them. If Logan hadn’t been so close, if the GPS gadget on his cell phone hadn’t made it possible for Steve’s call to go to the closest Sentinel—namely Logan—things would have turned out very different tonight. It served only to display just how fragile their progress truly was.

As Logan got back in his van, the blond woman’s face danced in his head. It was strange to no longer feel weak and hungry. Even walking inside Steve’s formidable mind had been easy. There was no effort. No strain.

The power in that woman’s blood was amazing. Too bad Logan knew he had to share.

Out of habit, he turned on the engine to get some heat before he realized he wasn’t cold. Still.

Normally, the flush of feeding would have faded by now, leaving him chilled to the bone. For some reason, this time was different.

Logan dialed Tynan’s cell phone. “We need to meet.”

“Why?”

“I have blood to share.”

“A new source?” The weariness in Tynan’s voice worried Logan.

“Yes. A young woman. Her blood is strong. It’s possible she may even be a Theronai.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. Her blood is different from theirs—unlike any I’ve had before.”

“We’ll need to find her a suitable mate as soon as possible. Is she currently attached to a male?”

Logan hadn’t even considered that possibility, but as soon as he did, anger stirred inside him. “I don’t know.”

“Find out. If she is, find out if her mate is suitably blooded.”

“And if not?” asked Logan.

“Remove him from her life.”

Her face appeared in Logan’s mind, as vivid and clear as if she were sitting next to him. She had a sweet face. Kind, amber eyes the color of autumn sunset. Not only was she lovely, she was obviously caring as well. Why else would she have stayed to help him at great risk to her own life?

“I won’t do that,” said Logan. “I won’t hurt her.”

“We both know she’ll be happier paired with a mate of our choosing.”

“Who’s to say that’s true? It’s not something we can prove, simply something we tell ourselves to relieve the guilt of what we must do.”

Tynan’s voice hardened. “All of our matches are happy ones. We make sure of that.”

“What if we’re wrong, just this one time? I can’t let that happen.”

“Then I’ll send someone who can. Where are you?”

Logan debated not telling him. Only the knowledge that their race couldn’t afford any animosity held his rebellion. “Promise me you’ll be the one to come and see to her. I don’t want to entrust her to anyone else.”

“Why?” asked Tynan, his skepticism clear.

“Her blood is too pure to risk.”

“Are you certain there’s not more to it than that?”

“Like what?” asked Logan.

“Do you have feelings for the woman?”

“Of course not. No more than is reasonable.”

“You can’t become involved with her,” said Tynan. “None of us can. If she’s human, we need her to breed. If she’s Theronai, she’s off-limits.”

“I do not need you to tell me the facts.”

“You’re not detached enough. Without detachment our goals will become confused.”

Anger made Logan’s voice sharp. “I’m perfectly clear about our goals.”

“And what might those be, Logan?”

“The same as yours. Survival of our race. We’ll pair her with an acceptable mate and all will be well.”

“If she’s human, do you want to bed her first? Get her out of your system? That can be arranged.”

Said in such a cold, clinical tone, the idea made Logan sneer. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I don’t.”

“As you wish. I’ll come, sample her blood myself as soon as I can get away, and we’ll see her happily settled.”

The question haunted Logan, putting into his head a possibility that should not exist. He hadn’t wanted a woman in centuries. He’d been too hungry, too weak for his body to respond in any sexual way. Until tonight.

He wasn’t weak now. Thanks to her blood, there was a stirring of something he’d thought long dead—an interest that went beyond survival. Holding her, feeding from her, had aroused him. Made him hard.

He wanted her. There was no denying it, but that didn’t mean he’d act on that desire.

“Come soon,” said Logan. “I don’t know how long they’ll keep her at the hospital. She was too weak for me to remove her memories, so that must still be done.”

“You won’t lose her. Her blood is yours now.”

Which meant he’d be able to find her if he chose to do so. Always.

Already the temptation to do just that was something he had to actively resist. “I have one quick errand to run, and then I’ll be off. I can’t stay and help you.”

“You mean you won’t stay,” said Tynan.

“As you say.”

Logan hung up the phone and drove toward the address that had been written in blood on his bathroom mirror. As he passed through the frozen streets, his mind filled with thoughts of what might await him. Would it be a home filled with people who could feed his race? The location of a gateway into Athanasia they could access? Even a group of humans willing to help them without all the coercion and lies would have been a welcome sight.

When he pulled up in front of the run-down building where he’d fought earlier tonight, and read the address, his excitement died.

This place, this Tyler building, did not house the savior of his race. It was simply an empty structure, void of hope. Worse yet, it was entirely possible that it had been a trap—that the creature he’d fought tonight had been sent here to wait for his arrival and had caught Steve’s and Pam’s scents as they’d passed by earlier.

Logan’s throat burned with anger as he stared at the run-down building. Power raged inside him, tempting him to raze the thing to the ground.

He could do it. He had enough strength now.

But if he did, he’d waste all the power she’d given him. He couldn’t do that, no matter how angry he became. Self-control was as vital to his people’s survival as blood. All the Sanguinar knew that, and those who didn’t had died. Or been killed.

Logan wasn’t always proud of the choices he’d had to make over the years, but he was still standing, as were many of his kind. Without those unpleasant choices, the Sanguinar would have been long extinct. And if that happened, it would be only a matter of time before the Theronai and Slayers fell as well, and the human race was left with no protectors.

The ends justified the means. It had to. After all the things Logan had done, it simply had to.

Chapter 4

H
ope couldn’t sleep. As tired as she was, every time she closed her eyes, she saw Logan’s face. Beautiful. Suffering. Powerful.

She wished she didn’t know his name. Somehow, knowing made him seem more real. Without that scrap of information, it would have been easy to pretend that everything that had happened tonight was a figment of her imagination.

Heaven knew her mind wasn’t exactly a fortress. Whatever had stripped her life’s memories away had left its scars. She saw things that couldn’t possibly exist. Felt things that could not be real.

And right now, she was sure she could feel Logan’s presence nearby, moving about the city. There was a warmth emanating from him, like sunlight on her skin.

Part of her willed him to come closer so she could bask in that warmth, while the saner part of her wished he’d just go away—so far she couldn’t feel a thing.

Hope rolled onto her side, facing him. “You’re not real,” she whispered into the darkness of her bedroom.

Somehow, saying it out loud only made it worse.
Something
had happened tonight that put her in the hospital, and if she couldn’t even trust herself enough to believe what she saw, then she was much worse off than she thought.

Something was wrong with Sibyl. Cain knew it. She hadn’t come out of her room since her parents’ deaths two weeks ago. She’d hardly spoken to him except to tell him she was fine and to ask him to bring her some of her mother’s clothes.

Everyone mourned differently, and the distance that had been between Sibyl and her mother was no doubt adding to the pain of grief now. Perhaps Gilda’s clothes gave Sibyl some kind of comfort. Cain deeply hoped so.

At least she’d been eating. The trays of food he’d left at her door were always returned empty. If not for that, Cain’s fatherly instincts would have kicked in and he’d have removed her from her room by force.