Blood Lust (7 page)

She wanted to stay wrapped in his warmth forever, but she forced herself to move. He was the face of her death; there were no doubts now. Getting the same dream twice wasn’t something she could ignore. It was prophetic.

Dayne was the one holding the ritual knife that spilled her blood. She twisted and shimmied out from under him. His arm fell with a sharp oomph much louder than it should have been. Was her hearing getting better?

He rolled to his other side with a grunt, and Greta eased out of the bed. She grabbed her duffel bag from the corner, and made her way to the kitchen for her pills.

She didn’t need crazy lust while trying to survive. It had already inconvenienced her twice. Now her heart hurt to leave the man she kept finding herself in bed with. Stupid heat cycle. Her body and heart were convinced he was the guy for her, but her brain knew better

She felt a pang of regret at breaking her agreement, then her brain kicked back in as she remembered his plan had been to get her blood at the full moon. And to kill her doing it. No, she didn’t feel bad leaving. Besides, she’d slept with him. To men of Dayne’s reputation that was probably considered payment in full.

She wondered how he’d struck the deal with her tribe. Jaden wouldn’t send her to a sorcerer if she cared about her. Duh, Greta. And the story he’d concocted about Jaden betraying him? Way to shine the light away. Gullible. It wasn’t a lesson she’d be forgetting anytime soon. Assuming she survived her birth moon.

She crept to the kitchen, wincing when the hardwood floor creaked beneath her feet. She stopped and held her breath as she waited to see if it would wake him. The house remained silent with only the ticking of the clock over the fireplace mantle breaking the stillness.

“Mrarrr.”

She jumped as Mink padded in, weaving her body between Greta’s legs. “Shhh! Do you want him to wake up and come in here?”

“Mrarrr?”

Greta smiled sadly down at the orange tabby. She’d have to leave Mink behind. Covert ops were clearly lost on the talkative cat.

She rummaged in the fridge until she found a slice of ham and dropped it on the floor, hoping it would shut the cat up. She poured herself a glass of water, gulped down a pill, then slipped the bottle into her pocket and took one last look around.

Tears teased the corners of her eyes. She wished Dayne hadn’t turned out to be evil. She could have imagined living here with him in his quiet cottage in the woods. It felt comfortable, like home.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Her hand had been on the knob. So close. “Nowhere. Outside for some air.”

“The garden is protected; the front stoop is not. You know it’s not safe out there.”

She turned toward him, and her mouth went dry. He was dressed in navy silk lounging pants and no shirt. He had the kind of body college students sketched in art classes everywhere. So warm and beautiful. And he and Greta fit together perfectly, in the carnal way. She wanted to run into his arms. Her knowledge of his betrayal wasn’t enough for a body that still trusted him.

“It’s not safe in here either,” she said after a beat.

Dayne incanted something in Latin, and Greta felt the magic swirl up as the deadbolt turned. She pressed herself against the door as if somehow it would bend to her will and unlock. This was normally when she shifted. The edges of wildness intruded on her senses, but even stronger was her own will pressing back, for once choosing not to change.

“Please,” she whispered as he moved closer. “You don’t have to kill me. Whatever you need my blood for, you can have it. You know that.”

His brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

She wondered which would be faster, her enhanced strength, or his magic.

He embraced her, then pulled back to look into her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you. What exactly is going on in that head of yours?”

“Stop lying to me!” She shoved him with all her strength, and he went flying back, confirming her theory that he was only human with a few fancy language upgrades.

He opened his mouth to even the odds, and she flew at him, punching and clawing. With one last burst of energy, Greta slammed his head against the wall. Dayne crumbled to the floor, and the door lock fell open, withdrawing its simple magic now that the spell caster was unconscious.

She ran into the night, her eyes adjusted, and she fought the urge to shift. No fur. No paws. The trees were coming toward her too fast. She’d never run like this on two legs before, but her reflexes came to her rescue, causing her to zigzag through the woods without even a branch snagging her top.

When she’d put a few miles between herself and Dayne, she slowed her pace. Time to strategize. Think. The tribe wouldn’t be looking for her; they’d just expect Dayne had her, keeping her safe until it was time for the sacrifice.

She wasn’t sure how long he’d stay unconscious. She might be able to make it past the border and take shelter with a wizard. Unlike sorcerers, wizards could be trusted. Too bad there weren’t any in Cary Town.

Before, she wouldn’t have considered involving a human; it was too risky. But she’d run out of options. At the main road, she hailed a taxi.

“633 Oak Circle.”

The driver gave her an appreciative once-over. Greta smiled, glad she’d remembered her pill. Though the heat would have to be pretty bad for this guy to inspire her lust. He had a scruffy beard and was wearing flannel, for God’s sake. Mother Nature could only take one so far.

“Here we are,” he said unnecessarily when they pulled up to Charlee’s house.

“Thanks. Could you wait while I go get some money?”

“You tryin’ to stiff me, sweetheart?” His voice held a touch of menace and some darker, violent part of Greta itched to do damage. Instead, she took a breath to steady herself.

“Just. Wait.”

“Fine, but if you aren’t out in five minutes, I’m comin’ after you.”

Greta’s eyes glowed golden, and she hissed. She didn’t have time for this crap.

His hands shot up in surrender. “Take all the time you need, baby.”

Greta knocked for a full two minutes before a bleary-eyed Charlee opened the door, her red curly hair askew.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need money for the cab first.”

Charlee went and got her purse. When the taxi rolled away, she asked again.

“I need you to smuggle me out of the city.”

Confusion marred her friend’s face. “Huh? Just drive away.”

“I can’t. I know this is going to sound weird, but you were on board with the cat thing and the sorcerer thing.”

“Didn’t that work out?” Charlee tied the belt around her bathrobe and led Greta inside.

“It was just a way to keep me in a holding cell, so no one in the tribe against this could warn me or help me escape.”

“So tell me again why you can’t just drive out of the city.”

“You know the toll booths on all the major exit roads?”

Charlee nodded.

“Preternatural border guards.”

“Why not just take the back roads? There aren’t any tolls there.”

“There are wards to keep therians from crossing. The toll roads exist because there are exemptions. And some species can pass at will, like vampires. Therians have to have permission to leave and when they do, they go through the toll roads and present paperwork.”

“Why therians?”

Greta sighed. “I can appreciate your curiosity, but I don’t have time to get into therian politics right now.”

***

Ten minutes later she was in the trunk, blankets wrapped tightly around her, with an opening in the top to breathe through. The blankets served to dampen her magical signature. With any luck, the guards wouldn’t sense it.

Charlee’s gray Honda Civic rolled to a stop.

The tollbooth guy’s voice rumbled just outside, asking to see ID. Greta tried to remain calm. It could be a routine check. Though she had no idea why the preternatural border patrol would do something so obviously sinister if they weren’t sure they had someone trying to cross the border. If it was a false alarm they’d have to call in a vampire to do a memory wipe, and vamps hated being bothered during their prime hunting hours.

“Charlotte Devlin?” The guard asked.

“Y . . . yes?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, we’d like you to open the trunk.”

Shit. Greta began frantically clawing through the layers of fabric.

“You aren’t authorized to search this vehicle.” Love her heart, Charlee thought she was still operating in a human world with democratic rules.

“You won’t remember your rights being ignored in the morning,” he said. “Now open the trunk before this has to get ugly.”

Greta heard the key turn in the lock, and the trunk was flung open. She was poised, ready to jump. Her claws dug into the guard’s cheek as she leaped off him. He yelped and cursed into his walkie-talkie for backup.

She was panting as she ran, desperate to put as much distance between herself and whoever the guard was calling, unsure which road might lead her to some temporary haven of safety. Finally, she spotted an open window. Someone without air conditioning had left their window open a few inches, only a screen protecting them from burglars. She wondered how such people didn’t end up in ditches and on the six o’clock news.

Greta ripped the screen with her claws and hopped inside. She crept into a bedroom to search through the closet, careful not to wake the middle-aged woman snoring loudly in the bed. Greta’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the clothes she had to choose from. The woman was twice her size and had a large collection of dresses with big flowers printed on them. The colors were bright and spanned the entire spectrum of the rainbow. She sighed and put one on.

Sticking to the shadows, she crept outside and paused in an alley behind a dumpster to catch her breath. A gloved hand covered her mouth. She struggled, but it was one of the tribe, someone stronger than her.

“Don’t scream,” Simon whispered. Her eyes widened as they caught something bright and silvery reflected in the streetlight. A hypodermic needle was poised over the vein in her throat. Then the world went away.

Dayne woke to a pounding he was sure was coming from the inside of his skull until he opened his eyes and realized it was the door. His fingertips skimmed over the bump Greta had left. Jesus Christ, she’d gone insane on him. He couldn’t figure out why she’d thought he planned to kill her. Surely, the last activity they’d been engaged in together wouldn’t lead her to that conclusion.

He crossed the room in three strides and threw the door open. His expression changed from hope to anger. “You’re taking your life in your own hands by being here. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you that night.”

The ward on the door dissolved, and Jaden glided past him into the house. She was dressed for a night on the town in a long backless black gown with a slit up one side, and strappy black heels that in another time and place would have made his mouth water in anticipation.

“You never could have killed me.”

Dayne wrapped his hand around her throat. “Care to make a wager?”

Jaden pushed him off her with ease and rolled her eyes. “As fun as this is, I’m not here to rekindle our old affair. Greta got captured.”

This is so unbelievably transparent. My IQ might have dropped several points the first time you rolled in playing the temptress, but I’ve grown as a person since then.”

Jaden smirked. “I’m sure.”

“I think she’s perfectly safe. And if she isn’t, what do I care?”

“What, indeed.” She shrugged and stretched out on the couch. “It’s your call. But she’ll be sacrificed as soon as the sun sets.”

Dayne was momentarily stunned by the sunlight streaming through the windows. He shook his head and pointed at the door.

“Leave.”

“I know you care for her. Help me.”

He was annoyed by how well she could still read him. “Why would you give her my address in the first place?”

Jaden looked at the ground, the confident facade falling around her feet. “Because I knew you could keep her safe.”

“You didn’t think sending her here might endanger her?”

“It’s not in your nature to harm an innocent. You know you never felt that way about me.”

One side of Dayne’s mouth inched up in a grin. “Because you weren’t, in fact, an innocent.”

“True enough.” Jaden withdrew a thin lady’s cigarette out of a red leather pouch and placed it between her lips. Her eyes remained on his as she lit the tip and inhaled the nicotine.

Playing the seductress had become her full-time role, Dayne mused. She didn’t seem aware she was doing it. Or if she was, she was barking up the wrong tree. She’d folded her legs underneath her, and now she unfolded them, crossing them primly to allow one thigh to peek out of the dress.

Goddammit. He was going to let Jaden lead him into a trap again. This time he was killing her. The shapeshifter was far too dangerous to be left alive.

“Very well,” he said, finally. “I’m sure Greta shed some fur around the house.” He’d need it for the spell to find her. “And Jaden, if this is a double-cross like the last time, you die. Don’t expect old sentiments to keep you safe. If you’re fucking with me this is your last chance to leave quietly.”