“Not yet. Our compound isn’t scheduled for our quarterly check for another week. No one knows I’m missing.”
“You’d better hope to hell they don’t,” he ground out, coming even closer.
Craning her head back so that she could hold his stare, she said, “If I am being hunted, it won’t be by your colleagues. It’ll be by the same people who are trying to kill my family!”
A deep, shuddering breath shook his chest as his gaze moved slowly over her face, settling on her parted lips for several heart-pounding seconds before lifting back to her eyes. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. She was trapped, caught in the raw, primitive power of his stare, the force of emotion burning in the stormy depths of his eyes nearly making her gasp.
“I swear to God,” he warned in a tone that was low and dark and uncomfortably delicious. “If you’re lying to me, I’m going to drag your little ass back to that hellhole myself.”
“I’m not lying. Please, just bel—”
“Shut up.” One arm suddenly snaked around her waist like a steel band, crushing her against his body, while his other hand covered her mouth. She had no idea what was happening, but the leather of his jacket was wonderfully soft beneath her hands as they flattened against his chest, the smell of his skin outdoorsy and fresh, sending an unwanted surge of hunger through her veins, desire pooling low and deep in her belly.
Panicked by her reaction, Juliana had shoved his hand away from her mouth and drawn in a deep breath, preparing to tell him to get the hell away from her, when he slapped it over her mouth even harder. “Quiet,” he snapped, staring into the thick shadows that darkened the far end of the narrow lane. “Something’s coming,” he breathed out so softly, she could barely hear him.
Something…not someone.
Within seconds, there was a musky scent in the air, like a primal predator closing in, the cold breeze bringing a stronger whiff of the scent as it surged around them, blowing against her face. Her blood chilled, a different kind of fear quickly spiking through her system, sending her pulse racing.
Ashe’s jaw hardened, and she knew he could detect every shuddering beat of her terror. His eyes drifted closed for a moment as he pulled in a slow breath, his brow furrowed with a deep frown, as if he was carrying on some kind of troubling internal debate. Then he exhaled with a sharp huff, lifted his dark lashes and looked her right in the eye.
Their faces were close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. “Whatever happens, stay behind me.”
She blinked, hope soaring, almost afraid to believe he wasn’t going to leave her to deal with the threat on her own.
“Thank—”
He cut her off before she could finish. “Don’t thank me too soon,” he growled in a low voice, turning so that his back was to her. “We haven’t made it out of here yet.”
“What do you think it is?” Juliana asked, releasing the talons at the tips of her fingers as Ashe did the same, her fangs dropping with a burn of heat as she prepared to do whatever she could to help him.
There was a surge of movement before he could answer, five hulking, fur-covered bodies prowling into the flickering glow of a neon sign. Werewolves. Big, ugly, nasty ones.
And the monsters looked hungry.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS FIVE AGAINST TWO. Actually five against one, since he didn’t plan on letting Juliana get involved in the fight. Not the best of odds, but Ashe had faced worse. Much worse. And he couldn’t discount the connection he felt to this woman. She might be his worst nightmare, but there was no question that he’d fight to the death before he let these bastards get their hands on her.
He was careful to keep Juliana between his back and one of the storefronts as the Lycans surrounded them in a semicircle, each one standing over seven feet tall, with razor-sharp claws and deadly, fang-filled jaws. Ashe spoke to the one who had taken center position. “Who the hell sent you?”
“We have no quarrel with you, vampire.” The beast’s voice was thick and guttural, the words strangely rounded by the muzzled shape of his mouth. “We only want some playtime with the pretty little criminal.”
Rage unlike anything he’d ever known scalded through Ashe’s veins as the Lycan’s intent bled over his face. The wolf planned on killing Juliana, but not until after he’d forced himself on her. “On whose authority?” Ashe demanded. “Did the Council send you?”
“Call it a private contract,” the Lycan replied, his slick black lips lifting on one side in a wolfish smile.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, realization sinking in.
“What?” Juliana whispered, pressing closer against him. Her sexy scent wrapped around him like a warm spill of sunshine, and he could feel the soft pressure of her breasts against his back, even through the layers of their clothing. With a tense, silent laugh, Ashe wondered how sick it made him to be taking in such prurient details when they were in mortal danger. If he were Catholic, there’d no doubt be a confessional with his name on it.
Answering her question, he said, “I’ve heard of these bastards before. They’re a rogue group of shifters who work for a premium price in the Assassin’s League. They specialize in vampire killings.” The details he’d heard were a hell of a lot more gruesome than that, but he didn’t see the point in scaring her.
The Lycan standing in the center spoke again. “If you don’t want to be left headless in the street, vamp, then you need to get moving.”
It was common knowledge among the clans that the most effective way to kill a Deschanel vampire was to behead him, and Ashe had no doubt these particular assassins had done their fair share of decapitations.
Flexing his talons at his sides, Ashe centered his body with a deep breath, his muscles loose but ready, knowing exactly what to do when the time came. “I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen,” he said in a low drawl, sensing they wouldn’t wait long to launch their attack.
Because he’d anticipated he’d be patted down before gaining entrance to the club where he’d met Jax, he’d left his weapons back in his hotel room in Kensington. That meant he had to fight with his body, but Ashe had trained for years to handle situations like these.
Of course, he didn’t usually have a female clutching his back, needing protection. And not just any female—but his female. The fact that he had no intention of ever permanently bonding with her made no difference to the more feral, primitive aspects of his nature. His woman was in danger, and no way in hell was he going to allow these furry-skinned fucks to harm her.
“Stay behind me,” he threw over his shoulder, while keeping his attention on the wolves.
“No. I can help,” she said unsteadily, clearly afraid, but brave enough not to cower.
“Just stay the hell back!” he barked, hoping she would listen to him as he engaged the first shifter who reached him, the creature coming in hard and fast. The wolf swiped with his long, curved claws, ripping through the side of Ashe’s leather jacket. Reacting quickly, he slashed his talons across the beast’s face, drawing a spray of blood, then delivered a punishing sidekick to his groin that sent the wolf reeling back, sprawling over the damp asphalt. A second and third Lycan immediately rushed him, while a fourth tried to make his way around the group, to Juliana. With the little vamp shouting for him to be careful, Ashe broke one’s neck as he dodged the other’s claws, then powered a crunching kick to the Lycan’s jaw. Pivoting to keep her behind him, he faced off against the remaining two, while the first shifter started to regain his feet.
“You’re good, pretty boy,” the wolf on his left snarled. “But you can’t take on all of us.”
Before Ashe could knock back the Lycan on his right, the assassin reached out and made a grab for Juliana, catching a fistful of her sweater. She cursed as she struck out at him, catching him on the shoulder with her talons. Spinning, Ashe slammed a kick into the side of the shifter’s knee, sending the bones popping out the other side. The Lycan crumpled to the ground, howling
in pain, as Ashe turned and faced off against the others.
Time to finish this shit, he thought savagely, his fury rising as he scented the sweet spill of Juliana’s blood in the air. The shifter with the mangled knee had sliced her skin with his claws, and molten fury poured through Ashe’s system, so powerful and hot he felt like he could have taken on twenty of these sons of bitches.
Unleashing the full force of his rage, he went on the offensive, fighting more viciously, more brutally, than he ever had before.
As the last Lycan slumped to the ground, Ashe rolled his shoulders and took another deep breath, while retracting his talons. He could hear Juliana panting behind him, but wasn’t ready to turn and face her, too much adrenaline still pumping through his system. Instead, he cast a quick look over the nearby storefronts, spotting a small hardware store and heading toward it. Using his elbow to bust the window, he ignored the blaring alarm that filled the night and quickly grabbed lighter fluid and matches. Normally, he would have called in for a Förmyndare cleanup crew to deal with the bodies, but he couldn’t risk creating any links between himself and the fallen assassins. Not if he intended to help Juliana. And not when he still wasn’t sure exactly what they were dealing with.
Working quickly, Ashe doused the bodies, which had already returned to their human forms, then set them on fire. Using the black powder that he kept in a hidden pocket inside his jacket, he poured some on each body, the compound increasing the heat of the fire to the point the bodies were almost instantly charred.
“I hear sirens,” Juliana murmured behind him.
Satisfied that he’d done all he could, Ashe snatched up her pack and grasped her delicate wrist, dragging her along behind him, while she thanked him several times for saving her life. He moved fast, but she managed to keep up as they snaked their way through the city, putting distance between themselves and the dead Lycans. When they finally reached a quiet, residential square with a tree-filled park in its center, he pulled her into the wooded shelter of the trees.
Releasing his hold on her wrist, Ashe mentally braced himself, working to get a grip on his anger as he turned to face her inside the shadowy bower.
Her gaze darted around the silent park, before locking with his. “Those Lycans weren’t here to take me back. They were here to kill me. It’s already starting.”
He wanted to argue, but the denial burned in his throat, followed quickly by another fiery rush of frustration. He’d fallen into a trap, caught between the past and the present, its jaws biting into his flesh with tearing force, making it impossible to escape.
“Do you believe me now?” she demanded, wetting her lips.
With a feral growl rumbling in his chest, Ashe dropped her pack and turned away from her, reaching out with both arms and bracing his hands on the thick trunk of the nearest towering willow tree, the swaying fall of leaves blocking them from the outside world. Screwing his eyes shut, he ran through every possible scenario in his mind, hating each of them with equal intensity. He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t. No middle ground, no easy way out, and he choked back the urge to punch his fist against the chilled bark.
Yeah, he could fob her off on one of his friends. But could he really stomach sending her off alone with another man? And then there was her accusation that it was quite possibly his investigation into her family’s banishment that had triggered the assassination orders in the first place, if someone was honestly trying to keep the case from being looked at too closely.
If she was telling him the truth, her story about the Delacourts made sense. There weren’t many families wealthy enough to fund assassination orders on a family the size of the Sabins, especially when that family was banished to the Wasteland—a dangerous place even for a deadly assassin to travel—but the Delacourts were one of the few. He could buy that part of it.
But what bothered him was Juliana’s version of events, as if she were merely a two-bit player in a larger family drama. It didn’t feel right in his gut. She was too…involved. Too much a part of it. And he hadn’t missed that catch to her voice when she’d said Raphe Delacourt’s name.
Then there was the pack and the letters. Something about the whole setup made his instincts scream caution.
There were a lot of unknowns, and he had no idea about how it was all gonna play out. The only thing he was sure of was that he would pay for getting involved. It would no doubt cost him in blood, sweat and his God-given sanity.
Which means I’m an idiot if I go through with this.
Behind him, Juliana’s voice was sharp with impatience. “I’m assuming that was the proof you needed. Those weren’t Förmyndares charged with returning me to the Wasteland. Those bastards intended to kill me. You’re going to help me, Ashe. You have to.”
He didn’t bother to argue with her assertion, though he wanted to. Badly. The alternative was a bitter pill to swallow, because he was about to agree to work with the one woman on earth he’d vowed to avoid. It was going to be worse than hell for his mind…and far too close to torture for his body.
What am I doing? Can’t turn my back on her, but can’t be near her and not touch her.
That wasn’t some kind of melodramatic bullshit. It was just pure, simple fact. Which meant he needed a new bloody plan, and he needed it fast.
The first time Ashe had ever set eyes on Juliana Sabin, the hairs on his arms stood on end from the shock that jittered through his system. The blast of warmth from the Burning hadn’t even hit him yet, but he’d been floored. There was just something about the way she moved…the way she looked at him that had caught his attention. And once caught, he hadn’t been able to shake loose of the hold.
And the more time he spent with her, his list of questions about the mysterious vamp just continued to grow.
Raine McConnell, a friend and psychic who was married to a human friend of Ashe’s, had refused to “psychically” spy on Juliana for him when he’d asked for any information she could give him, claiming it was a matter of principle. Considering the current situation, Ashe wondered what the psychic would say now. He’d have called and asked her for some help—begged for it even—but the couple had taken off to some remote island in the Pacific for a luxury vacation and couldn’t be reached by phone.
Some guys just had all the luck. His buddy Seth was going to be wallowing the days away in sexual bliss with his woman, while Ashe dealt with this mess. And no matter what he did, he wouldn’t be able to shake the Burning with a simple cure or reversal anytime soon. He was juicing up with a concoction meant to ease the symptoms, but the results had been minimal. And as for a way to put an end to it…nothing, so far.
He’d keep looking, just like the others who had searched before him. As time moved on and their numbers dwindled, more males of his race committed to women without Burning for them, but it was a risky move. If you never found the woman who set you on fire, then you had a shot at happiness. But once you Burned, you were caught…trapped…and driven to possess. The instinct could push you to do painful, gut-wrenching things, like breaking the heart of a woman you loved, and more than a few families had been shattered as a result.
But Ashe wasn’t going to let the failure of others stop him. He would keep searching until he finally found what he needed and broke the Burning. Then he’d be able to get back to the life he’d had before.
Yeah, that’ll be great. Running back to an existence full of one-night stands that was getting old…and boring. Like watching the same sitcom episode over and over, until you knew it by heart. No laughter. No surprises. Just the same old scenes droning on…and on.
Choking the words off with a thick curse, Ashe rubbed a hand over his gritty eyes. He refused to acknowledge that niggling voice whispering mundane bullshit in the back of his mind. Nothing good could come from it. He had to get his life back, because a life with Juliana Sabin was not something he could live with.
Not now. Not ever.
It infuriated him that he was being manip
ulated by the supernatural phenomenon, as if fate itself were plucking the strings of his life for a laugh. But even worse was the fact that he’d always found Juliana—a woman who, given his past, should have made him cold—too fascinating to ignore. Instead, he’d found himself watching her, thinking about her, working to puzzle out her contradictions too many times to count. She was so strong, and yet vulnerable. Brave, but with big gray eyes that burned with fear.
Deadly Is the Kiss Page 4