Blood Hunt (9 page)

“The bullshit just keeps getting deeper.” She tried to jerk out of his grasp, hoping for another burst of strength, but his hold stayed firm.

He stepped forward until his body was pressed against her back. Instantly, she wished for a longer coat—one that would mask the thick press of his erection against her ass and the languid warmth it caused to pool in her belly.

His arm snaked around her, sliding under her sweater until his fingers curled along her ribs. They were so warm. So gentle.

Never before had she allowed a stranger to touch her like this. She had no idea why she was now.

Hope felt his breath flutter across the top of her ear. “Please don’t run. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

A comforting weight descended over her, but she knew it was a trick. Some kind of magic trick he was playing on her screwed-up mind.

“Five minutes. Please give me five minutes.”

“To do what?” She could think of too many things a man like him could do with that amount of time. Her heart pounded hard at the idea, and a burst of need exploded in her chest.

He let go of her and caressed his way up her arm, over her shoulder, and up her throat until his hand settled along the side of her face. “I want to see your memories. Learn who you are.”

“How is that even possible?”

“How was it possible you were able to cast me to the ground with more strength than a man twice your size?”

He had a point. “Why? Why do you want to see my memories?”

“I think we can help each other.”

“How?”

“So many questions. It would take less time to show you than to explain. Aren’t you curious?”

She was. That was the problem. She’d wanted to know the answer to so many questions for so long that even the merest hope of learning the truth called to her. What if he wasn’t lying? What if he could see her memories and tell her once and for all if she was human or something else?

Hope nodded, feeling the heat of his fingers slide along her face. “Okay. Take a peek, but I swear that if you try anything funny, I’ll beat your head in with my flashlight.”

Chapter 6

S
he was a violent thing, but Logan discovered that it aroused him. Like everything else about her.

He truly shouldn’t have allowed himself to get this close, to let the soft swell of her ass cradle his swollen cock. The appendage had a mind of its own, jerking and pulsing against her as if it could get closer.

She was meant for someone else. He had to remember that.

Logan had spent years ignoring hunger. This was simply one more type of hunger he would learn to ignore. Quickly.

Before she changed her mind, Logan pressed his advantage and swooped into her thoughts. She didn’t fight him this time. In fact, he felt himself being pulled in, welcomed as if he belonged here.

He started with her most recent thoughts and memories. Tonight.

She was afraid of him. Attracted to him. He saw himself through her eyes and there was an odd sort of colorful halo surrounding him. He’d never seen anything like it before, but she was so used to it, her easy acceptance made him skim over that detail.

She was looking for someone. A friend. Logan could see the young woman’s face clearly. Pretty. Dark eyes. Blond hair that had once been dyed pink, growing out to hide her face.

Logan tucked that away, and moved back along her memories, seeing a stream of nameless people sliding through her life. Some of them she knew well. Others were strangers. She seemed to care for all of them, worry for them.

He moved back to her memories of last night, knowing he needed to remove all traces of the Synestryn she’d seen. That memory could lure others to her, putting her at risk. It had to be cleaned from her thoughts for her own safety.

Logan found the memories from last night. He saw himself battle the demon, and felt her fear as she’d watched. She’d seen him as courageous and noble. It was such an odd thing to witness that he lingered there for a moment, reveling in her perception of him. To her, he was a hero. He’d saved Steve’s life.

Of course, she didn’t know that he’d done it for his own selfish purposes. He needed Steve to survive. His people needed Steve. There was nothing noble at all about what he’d done last night. It was all cold, practical logic.

And yet, witnessing how she felt about the event gave him pause. He liked how she saw him. He found himself hesitating when he knew he had to rid her of the memory.

But if he did, how would she see him then? Would she remain in his arms, pliant and cooperative? Or would she become mistrustful and bolt the moment she got the opportunity?

That was not something Logan could allow. No matter how much he liked playing the part of a noble hero, her memories of the demon had to be erased.

Like a surgeon extracting a tumor, he found the edges of that memory, preparing to cut it out. The seams between when she showed up and saw the demon, and the time she woke up in the hospital had to be knit together in a way that would not leave her curious. The less he removed, the easier it would be for her, but if he left too much, she might poke at the memory until holes formed and the events came rushing back to her.

He found what he thought was the optimal balance and began to extract those memories to take them into himself.

It didn’t work. No matter how hard he tugged, the memories remained fixed in place. If he tried any harder, he’d hurt her, and that was simply not something he could tolerate.

This kind of thing rarely happened, but he had heard of it. Sadly, that left him with only one option: He had to blur what was there.

His skills with this kind of work were far less advanced. He had to leave the majority of the memory intact, while hazing over that which would draw Synestryn to her.

Slowly, Logan began layering a fog over the creature, covering it in every moment of her memory. It took several iterations, but when he was done, all that was left was a black, shadowy spot in her vision, as if she’d never been able to clearly see the thing that had attacked.

Logan wasn’t sure how well his work would hold. He’d have to check on it again later to ensure that nothing had come unraveled. Which meant he had to stay by her side, at least for a little while.

Time had no meaning while he worked, but they were out in the open and he needed to finish his task before it became dangerous.

He moved back in time, watching her body change and thin with adolescence. He wanted to see her parents so he could help uncover the mystery of her powerful bloodline, but he didn’t get far before his consciousness rammed into something. A wall. A barrier of some kind. He pushed against it, and felt an answering moan of pain coming from the woman he held in his arms.

It was too strong for him to break through without hurting her. Logan wasn’t willing to do that. At least not now. He couldn’t afford to ruin her newborn trust.

He moved within the stream of her memories, weaving through them until right before he hit that barrier. She was young. Cold. Afraid. Naked and shivering in an alley as she hugged herself. The world around her was strange, the building looming over her larger than anything she’d ever seen before. Through her eyes he saw her staring down at a chunk of wood. It had been rounded and sanded until it was as smooth as a river pebble. A thin leather strip woven through a roughly drilled hole. Burned into the wood was the name Hope Serrien.

Her name.

Why would that be? Why would someone strip her of her belongings and memories and leave her this one token of her identity?

Logan had no idea. What he did know was that it was no coincidence that the address scrawled in blood across his mirror was the same one where Hope’s memories ceased. The same one where the demon he’d killed last night had emerged. The same one where they stood now, pressed together, their minds connected.

This place held some kind of significance. Logan didn’t know what it was, but he was going to find out. And in the meantime, he had something to occupy his thoughts: finding Hope a suitable mate.

He removed himself from her mind, but couldn’t bring himself to ease away from her body. He held her, sharing warmth as the cold wind whipped around them.

“Hope Serrien,” he said, feeling her name roll from his tongue.

“What did you see?”

“Your life. Your memories. Where they began. Here, in this place.”

She turned inside his arms, facing him. Her eyes were filled with a shame he couldn’t understand. “Do you know who I am?”

“I know no more than you do.”

“You must. The things you can do . . .”

The desperation in her voice called to him. He ached to wipe it away and replace it with pleasure. A woman like her deserved nothing less. The way she cared for others was rare—a gift to be treasured.

“I may be able to help. Given enough time.”

“Time?” She sounded distant, almost distracted, as she stared at his mouth. She licked her lips.

The urge to bend down and kiss her was almost more than he could fight. Logan’s body tensed with the effort, his muscles clamping down to hold him in check. “Come with me. I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

He wasn’t sure who that man would be yet, but he’d figure that out once he’d secured her agreement. Perhaps putting a name to the man who would belong to her would help him remember his place.

He was a matchmaker—a tool. Nothing more. Certainly not someone who should be thinking about how well Hope fit in his arms, or how her scent went to his head, driving away all rational thought.

Before things got out of hand and he did something irrevocable, Logan gently separated them and took a long step back. Cold air sucked her heat from his skin and he mourned the loss.

Hope blinked a couple of times as if the move had helped clear her head. “I can’t go anywhere with you.”

“Why not?”

“People are missing. And even if they weren’t, I have a job to do.”

“I’ll help you find your friends. I’m quite good at hunting people.” Her face paled, and he realized his wording had been indelicate. “I mean
finding
people.”

She had the loveliest amber-colored eyes. They reminded him of sunlight streaming through autumn leaves—sunlight he could see but never feel against his skin. In the moonlight, her hair was a paler gold, the color of honey. Shadows lay against her cheek like a lover’s caress, and the uncertainty in her gaze made him want to hold her close.

But what she needed right now was not his touch. She needed reassurance that he could help. That he was harmless.

Logan knew without a doubt the latter was a lie. He was more predator than man, scheming to get his way whenever necessary. And if he had to do so again now to gain her cooperation, so be it.

He forced a kind smile to curve his lips. “We’ll find your friends, and then you can come with me as repayment.”

“Is that how you live your life?” she asked. “Counting the cost of your service to others so the debt can be repaid? I’m not sure I can accept the help of someone like that.”

He looked at her in confusion, unsure of what he’d said to upset her. “It only seems fair that if I help you, you would offer me something in return.”

“Fair. I see.” She bent and picked up her flashlight from where it had fallen out of her grasp. The beam fell across his eyes, ruining his vision for a moment. “Thanks for your offer, but no thanks. I’ll find Rory and the others on my own.”

It took Logan a moment to regain his mental balance. Usually when he offered his aid, people accepted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been turned down. “What?”

“You heard me. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

“But . . . why? I’m offering to help.”

“For a price.”

“So?”

She shone her flashlight along the brick wall and began to walk. Away from him. “So, I’m not the kind of person who is willing to strike a deal with an asshole. I lived on the streets long enough to know that it will only get me in trouble.”

She’d lived on the streets? He’d sped through her memories so fast, he must have missed that part of her life. The news that she’d suffered like that made something fierce and dangerous rise up inside Logan. His claws began to extend, and he had to take several deep breaths through his nose to keep his fangs from showing.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his trench coat and followed her. “Where do you live now?”

“None of your business.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

She stopped and turned to face him. Her feet were braced apart, and her grip on the sturdy Maglite tightened. “Should I be?”

Logan truly didn’t know what to say. He meant her no harm, but the lengths he was willing to go to ensure her participation in Project Lullaby would frighten most humans.

He settled for the ever-present lie. “No. Of course not.”

She stared at him, her amber gaze unwavering. “I saw what you did to that . . . monster. Didn’t I?”

The fact that she remembered enough of it to know it had been a monster proved just how inept he’d been at masking the memory. “I have no idea what you saw.”

“Are you saying you didn’t kill it?”

“No.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“Perceptions are tricky things. People see the same thing differently.”

“And how do you see me?” she asked. “As some sort of gullible girl to be sucked in by a hot, mysterious guy?”

The idea that she found him “hot” held more than a little appeal to him. But that wasn’t what he needed from her, and it wasn’t what she’d asked.

He studied her, enjoying the path from the snow boots on her feet, up her slim legs, over the curve of her hips, past the puffy jacket that hid too much, and on to her lovely face. Every inch of the journey delighted him, and made him think of how she might look divested of all her trappings. Including her angry glare. “You’re alone. Vulnerable. Afraid.”