by Amelia Elias
With that thought her heart froze. Was the gate open because the hunters had found him?
Sian forgot caution and raced down the twisting drive like the hounds of hell were on her heels, not daring to slow even when she skidded on the loose gravel around a curve and almost lost control of the car. She remembered the nightmare image of Diego lying on the floor in pool of blood that had tormented her as she’d driven away and prayed it hadn’t been a premonition.
Just before she came within sight of the house she made herself stop. If the Templars were inside, she’d be signing her own death warrant—or worse—to run in blindly like this. If these people knew anything about vampires, she’d bet her bottom dollar they’d recognize the mark on her arm and know she was Diego’s bondmate. She killed the engine and took a deep breath, trying to quiet her racing thoughts and think like the cop she’d once been.
Finally she got out of the car and silently closed the door behind her, her gun hidden but easily accessible and her cell phone set to dial 911 at the touch of the send button. She crept through the trees, thankful that Diego had let most of his property run wild since it gave her such excellent cover. She made herself take her time and move silently even as everything in her urged her to hurry. This was too important to mess up with impatience.
Finally she parted the branches and saw the house in front of her. At first glance nothing looked amiss. The front door was closed and a few lights shone through the windows. There were no cars in the driveway or anything to indicate any intruders were there.
She wasn’t fooled. Her instincts were screaming. Someone was in the house, an invading presence in her home. A stranger waited with violence on his mind.
Sian inched forward until she was pressed up against the house right under the study window. Slowly, cautiously, she leaned up, needing to glance inside and see who was in there. She only hoped she’d be able to see the intruders and formulate a plan of attack.
An arm suddenly snaked around her neck and a hand clapped over her mouth before she caught a glimpse of the room. Sian fought like the wildcat Diego called her and cursed herself for letting her guard down for even an instant.
She bit the hand over her mouth hard enough to draw blood and a surge of new strength rocked her as the salty taste filled her mouth. Some wild, animalistic side of her she’d never even known she possessed reared up and took control, and she didn’t try to fight it. She snarled and clamped her fingers around the strangling arm and squeezed with all her might. There was a loud crack as the bone shattered under her hands. Her attacker screamed with pain. Sian took advantage at once, slamming both elbows into his chest. She planted her foot against the wall and kicked back, driving her body hard against his.
They fell together and Sian jumped to her feet, stumbling a little when her body responded to her thought with a speed she’d never before imagined. Her attacker reached out and grabbed for her ankle but she was out of his reach before his hand moved more than an inch. He started to get up but her fist shot out and caught him hard on the temple. He dropped like a stone.
Sian stared down at her attacker for a moment, stunned. He was enormous, a walking mountain of muscle lying unconscious on the ground—and somehow she’d put him there. She’d always been a fighter but there was no way she should have been able to take out a man this size, especially when he’d caught her by surprise.
She wasn’t even out of breath! Where had that burst of strength come from?
Sian didn’t dare question it. She didn’t have time to figure it out right now. Her attacker’s shout when she’d broken his arm would surely have alerted someone in the house and she couldn’t afford to be caught again. The strange strength still surged through her but she didn’t know when it would wear off. Adrenaline didn’t last forever. She darted around the house and did the last thing she thought they would expect her to do.
She walked straight in the front door.
Once inside she didn’t linger, though. She darted into the first door she came to, hiding in Diego’s dark study, and pressed her back against the wall as she listened.
Whatever had happened with her strength and reflexes had apparently also affected her ears because she now heard everything. The refrigerator kicked on in the kitchen. A tree branch tapped the roof. Somewhere upstairs two men were chatting about a woman they were planning to have in ways that made her nauseous.
A man exhaled not two feet from her.
Sian whirled, her gun in her hand at the speed of thought. She had no trouble seeing in the darkness—another strange new development she didn’t dare think about too closely—and the face staring back at her was sickeningly easy to recognize. It had been branded on her brain for all time.
“Decided to join us, have you?” he said, smiling.
Sian was too stunned for words. Enrique Santonyo was the very last person she’d expected to see here. She’d been so worried about Diego and James, she had completely forgotten the danger she was in. His hand moved toward his jacket and she cocked her gun, pulling her thoughts back and focusing every ounce of her attention on the murderer who had made her life a living hell for the last three years.
“Give me any reason to shoot you,” she growled. “Please, I’m begging you.”
He snorted derisively but Sian noticed he pulled his hand back. “You don’t have the nerve,” he said. “You never fired a shot the entire time you were a cop.”
Sian curled her lip. “That’s only because I never had a gun when I was around you,” she snapped back.
Santonyo shrugged. “You’ve got one now and you haven’t shot me yet. Put down the gun, little girl, before you shoot yourself in the foot. You don’t have the guts to kill me.”
Sian knew he was stalling in hopes that one of his goons would come in and take her out. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “I think I’d rather see you serve your jail term than earn one for myself,” she said coldly. “I hear it’s going to be a nice, long one.”
Santonyo snarled as she hit “send” and waited for the dispatcher to answer. Sian didn’t take her eyes off him for a second, not even to blink, and her gun stayed rock-steady. She didn’t have to be told he would jump her at the first opportunity and she hoped her expression told him she wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in him if he gave her reason. Apparently it did because he didn’t move.
Disappointing.
Sian sensed the man outside the door before she heard him, the strong aura of anger and recent violence reaching through the walls and engulfing her. Sian spun, dropping the phone, and fired as the door swung open.
Eli grunted as the bullet splintered the door before ripping through his shoulder. He shot her a look of such astonishment she could almost have laughed had she not been so horrified at what she’d done. She’d never stopped to think that whoever was coming through the door might be on her side!
“Oh God, Eli, I didn’t mean—”
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Santonyo. Sian jerked the gun back to him, catching him as he reached into his jacket again. Santonyo froze instantly but his eyes jumped from Sian to Eli and back again.
It didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking.
“Don’t bother trying to get your gun again. I’m not going to go help him,” she told Santonyo without looking at Eli. “I don’t even like him. He can bleed to death for all I care.”
Eli chuckled and Sian started to have serious doubts about his sanity. She’d just shot the man and he was laughing about it? “You think it’s funny?”
His chuckle burst into a full-fledged laugh. “You’re something else, Sian,” Eli said a moment later, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Here I take care of all his thugs for you and you shoot me instead of him. This is the thanks I get?”
She shrugged, not taking her eyes off Santonyo. “You shouldn’t have snuck up on me,” she said, too tense to really register what he was saying. Eli unnerved the hell out of her and having him standing out of sigh
t was the opposite of comforting.
Eli stepped forward, putting himself in her line of sight as though reading her thought. “You’re the first person to wound me in several thousand years. You should be impressed with yourself. I take it you called the police for your friend here?” He glanced down at her phone, which had broken when it hit the hardwood floor. “Or maybe not. Actually it works out better for me that you haven’t called them.”
Sian fought not to gape at him in disbelief at his blasé attitude. Santonyo took advantage of her brief inattention and his hand darted into his jacket again. Eli sighed and before she could blink, Eli punched Santonyo hard enough to send him flying back several feet. He’d moved with such speed, she hadn’t even seen a blur. Santonyo slid down the wall in a heap, unconscious.
“You’re much too nice,” Eli told her when she gaped at him. “You should’ve just shot him and been done with it. Besides, we don’t have time to waste waiting for the police to arrive if you want to help Diego.”
All her fears for him came rushing back and Sian closed her eyes, struggling to push past them and think clearly. The force of her longing to see him, to run her hands over him and make sure he was unharmed, staggered her. “Where is he?” she asked, hardly recognizing the strangled sound of her own voice. “Is he all right?”
Eli had whipped the curtain tie down and was trussing Santonyo up like a Thanksgiving turkey. “He’s fine,” he said. “For now.”
Her heart skipped a beat. For now? What the hell did for now mean? She shoved the gun into her waistband and rushed over to Eli. “Tell me where he is,” she begged hoarsely, all thoughts of Santonyo and her unexpected victory over him forgotten. Her fear for Diego was a living, breathing monster inside her, a panicked beast destroying rational thought. “I’m sorry I shot you. I’ll make it up to you somehow, just please tell me where he is!”
Eli finished with his knot and turned to her. Those eerie black eyes were compassionate as he gazed at her. “Breathe, Sian,” he told her gently. “I have every intention of taking you to Diego. Don’t worry, the things you’re feeling are natural. It’s the bond.”
Sian didn’t know about that. She’d never felt such an overwhelming desire to see someone in her life and didn’t really think it was either natural or normal, and she sought for something else to say. She didn’t want to discuss what was between her and Diego, whatever it was, with this man.
Whatever he was.
She shook her head. Eli was her ally, regardless of her fear of him. “You need to let me tend your wound before we go,” she forced herself to say. She dreaded touching him and she hated the delay in getting to Diego, but she knew she owed Eli this much for taking care of the men Santonyo had brought with him. She remembered the conversation she’d overheard of the two men discussing raping a woman, and knew now they’d planned those things for her. “I didn’t mean what I said to Santonyo about not liking you and not caring if you bled to death.”
“No need,” Eli said. He smiled and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. He pushed the material aside to expose his undamaged skin. She shivered again, reminded of how her sunburn had faded to almost nothing as she’d slept today and how Diego’s wound had healed. Still, neither of them had anything on Eli. Not even a pucker marked the place where the bullet had pierced his skin.
“And there’s no need to try to protect my feelings,” Eli added when she didn’t reply. “I appreciate your effort, but I got rid of those long ago—they’re far more trouble than they’re worth.” She couldn’t think of any reply to that. “Ready to go?” he asked, pretending not to notice her gaping at him.
Sian nodded at once. The certainty of seeing Diego soon was the only thing keeping her together right now. Eli stood and walked to the window. “I know you’ve never flown before so you’re going to have to let me do this,” he said as he pushed the window open.
“Do what?” she asked, and then the rest of his words sank in. “Did you say flown?”
She had her answer a moment later as Eli transformed into an enormous owl. She barely had time to gasp before a strange shimmering feeling engulfed her body. She screamed as the floor rushed up to meet her and put her hands out to try to protect herself.
Instead of her hands, she saw two tiny paws. “What the hell!” she tried to shout but only a squeak came out.
The owl swooped down and she squeaked again in terror as it snatched her up in its talons. Relax, little mouse, Eli’s amused voice echoed in her head as the owl shot through the window and into the night sky, and Sian was forcefully reminded of her first impression of him. Enjoy the ride. I probably won�t eat you before we get to Diego.
* * *
Diego stopped in the shadows and surveyed the building he’d been directed to with a critical eye. It was little more than a crumbling shell, a beaten down warehouse on the docks, but he was certain the Templars had chosen it for a reason. He didn’t dare burst in until he had a sense of the layout of the place.
He didn’t see a sign of Ronin, not that he expected to. Ronin was less than half Diego’s age but he was a consummate hunter. Rumor had it that he’d been trained in by a true samurai during his mortal life despite his clear European heritage, and everything Diego had ever seen of him backed up the legend. The man was incredible with swords and unstoppable hand-to-hand, and he could hide in plain sight like no one Diego had ever seen. Diego knew he wouldn’t see the warrior unless Ronin wanted to be seen.
Diego slowly circled the building, noting the padlocked loading docks along the sides and the one unlocked door at the front. Every entrance but the front door was blocked, either by chains and bolts or simply welded closed. One way in, one way out. Diego narrowed his eyes, disliking the layout intensely. All advantage to his enemies, and none to him but his natural abilities.
Finally Diego sighed and stepped out of the shadows, walking in plain sight up to the door and bracing for attack. It wasn’t how he wanted to do it, but he had no choice. There wasn’t any other way and he couldn’t transform into anything small enough to get through any of the little breaks in the wall. He was truly grateful for Ronin for clearing the roof because he had no doubt if Ronin hadn’t, he’d have a crossbow bolt in his chest right now. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, ready to duck or shape-shift at the first hint of movement.
Besides, if they knew he was here, maybe they’d stop hurting James.
A splash of cold water doused him as soon as he stepped through the door. Diego blinked, taken off-guard. “Thanks for the bath, but I already had one this morning,” he called into the darkness.
“That was holy water, demon, blessed by Pope Alexander IV,” snarled a voice in reply. The warehouse echoed too badly for Diego to pin down its source.
He made the sign of the cross, knowing it would infuriate any who were watching him. Anger made people foolish. “Well, I certainly thank you,” he replied. “Such a blessing, five hundred year old holy water from one of the most corrupt popes in history. Maybe it’ll grant me long life, eh?”
He heard the click of a crossbow and rolled to the side as the bolt flew. It was relatively easy to trace its path back to the source and his thrown dagger was in flight before the bolt clattered to the floor. The wet gurgle, which followed a moment later, was highly satisfying.
“Well, then again maybe not,” he added. “It certainly didn’t help that guy.”
He was already twenty feet away by the time the crossbow bolts flew through the spot where he’d been. He rolled his eyes even as he rushed silently along the wall. How the hell had these morons hunted vampires for eight hundred years without learning how fast a vampire could move when he wanted to?
They hadn’t.
Diego dropped down behind a crate as floodlights pierced the darkness, illuminating every inch of the warehouse and temporarily blinding him. They knew damn well he’d be on the move, and a moving target was easy to spot. He’d almost fallen for it.
He couldn’t afford
to underestimate his enemy again.
The lights swiveled inward when they failed to reveal his position and Diego sucked in a silent breath at the sight of James tied to a chair in the bare center of the room. He literally saw red at the evidence of what they’d done to his friend.
James’s face was battered and bloody, every inch of exposed skin purple with bruises. One eye was completely swollen shut. His ankles and hands were bound to the chair legs. The ropes around his wrists were tight enough to cut off his circulation. There was a puddle of blood under his right hand and Diego barely restrained himself from rushing straight to James to aid him. This he couldn’t heal.
In the center of the blood lay a finger.
“Your power must be great, vampire,” the voice taunted again. “Your thrall didn’t make a sound as we punished him for his little trick on the phone, not even when we extracted the required flesh sacrifice from him to free him from your bondage. Don’t you feel any remorse for using a living being so cruelly?”
The hypocrisy was almost more than Diego could bear in silence, but he didn’t make a sound or move a muscle. He knew they were doing just what he’d tried to do to them only moments earlier, make him angry enough to make a foolish mistake. Instead of giving in to his fury, he concentrated on James. He just made out the rise and fall of his Steward’s chest and relief flooded him. They’d beaten him severely—and oh, they would pay for it—but they hadn’t killed him.
They’d tied him too well for Diego to rush out and grab him, though, and he saw they’d sunk the chair legs deep into the concrete to prevent him from dragging his friend away, chair and all. He ground his teeth and searched the shadows for targets but the bright lights were playing hell with his vision. Closing his eyes, forcing all the distractions of his anger at what they’d done to James and his worry about where Sian was to the back of his mind, Diego sent his senses winging through the cavernous building again, searching for prey.