Embrace of the Damned (3 page)

She opened her car door, intending to sit down and fish out her phone to make the call, but the man walked over to her instead.

No. He didn’t walk, he ran … or something. Damn, the guy could move
fast
. One minute he was way over there, now he was right beside her.

She backed away from him, alarmed. Had she imagined that?

“Wait. That will be expensive. Do you mind if I just call my wife? She’s got an extra key.”

He flashed a bland smile at her, a bland smile on a bland face. She looked down and saw the gold wedding band on his left hand wink in the dim light.

She must have imagined it. “Sure.” She dug into her bag and pulled her cell phone out. “Here you—” The cell phone clattered to the cement as bland suddenly turned brutal. The veneer of nice, harmless man peeled away like an aging patina.

Oh, no
.

Jessa stepped backward as the man’s thin lips peeled into a gruesome smile, revealing sharp white teeth and … were those …
fangs
? How could that be?

“Jessamine Amber Hamilton?” Even the man’s voice had
changed. He ripped off the glasses and threw them to the pavement.

She shook her head, unwilling to answer, and took another step back. Her fingers closed around her pepper spray. He was between her and her car. That needed to change. Getting to her car meant she could make it out of here alive.

Rage blossomed inside her.
She just wanted to go home!
Jessa stopped retreating. “Get the hell away from me right now.” Her voice came out a whole lot stronger and more assertive than she felt, but she needed to treat this man like the dog he was—and show him who was alpha. If she didn’t act afraid, maybe he’d back off.

The man tipped his head to the side, looking oddly alien. Then he smiled a waaaay creepy smile and said, “No.”

“Fine. You asked for it, asshole.” She pulled the pepper spray from her pocket, aimed it at the man’s face, and pulled the trigger. The pepper spray hit him straight in the eyes, but he didn’t flinch. All he did was swipe a hand across his face and leer at her. It was as if she’d shot him with a water pistol. Then, if the fangs weren’t weird enough, his eyes bled black …
completely black
. Hell-spawn obsidian
black
.

Okay, that was not normal.

The smell of the pepper spray stung her nose, made her eyes water. It was potent. Any normal human would be writhing in agony on the floor of the parking garage by now. Why wasn’t he?

The man narrowed his creepy black eyes and smiled, revealing—unmistakably this time—two shiny sharp fangs.

It appeared she had her answer; this thing wasn’t human.

A growl issued from the back of his throat that raised the hair along her nape. She dropped her bag, turned, and ran. He tackled her immediately, rolling her over and looming above her. She fought him—punching, biting, scratching—but his strength was as unnatural as his teeth. And his grip was cold,
freezing
. Where his skin touched her, she went numb.

His mouth, with those shiny fangs, descended toward her face, ice-cold saliva dripping from their knifelike points.

She screamed.

He could feel her
.

Her presence burned through every fiber of his body, screaming at him to find her. It had rushed through him the moment Loki had untwisted the cosmic laws that bound him—unlocked Broder’s ability to be with a woman. His chastity belt. That’s what the Brotherhood of the Damned called it, a darkly comedic term for the magick that kept them from intimate contact with any other person.

You could call Loki many things, but not a liar. At least not this time. It was exactly a thousand years since the day Broder had been taken for the Brotherhood. Just as Loki had promised, he was free—at least for a time—to taste the fruits he’d been forbidden.

He could feel her
.

From the moment he’d been freed, she’d pulled him toward her. This was the one woman allowed him in all the world and nothing was going to keep him from her.

He raced his cycle down the rain-slicked streets of Washington, D.C., the reflection of the lights from the intersections he rode through gleaming on the wet pavement and the ends of his long, rune-laced leather coat flapping behind him.

His blood sang hot with the supernatural scent of her. She wasn’t far, just a few blocks away. His body tightened with need, his heart rushing with adrenaline triggered by her nearness. She would be human, that was always how Loki did it. Not Valkyrie, not witch.
Human
. It complicated things for the Brotherhood and amused Loki, the bastard. He never made things easy.

One thousand years he’d been in the Brotherhood of the Damned. One thousand years of offing Blight, one by one, hoping to find that single agent from whom the sliver had
been taken that pierced his soul. If he could find that one agent of the Blight, he would be free to die.

Most humans dreamed about immortality, but most in the Brotherhood dreamed of death—of peace, of rest, of change of any kind. Love was just a dream … death, something to strive for.

Immortality for the Brotherhood was hell.

Kill the agent of the Blight from whom Loki had extracted the sliver lodged in Broder’s soul and the sliver would die, too. The countdown clock of his physical life would resume.

But this.
This was a new goal. This was different from the last thousand years of his life. This woman promised warmth, companionship … pleasure. A respite from the endless cycle of killing and death.

He was close now. He gunned the engine of his cycle, ran a red light. The city was empty, winding down into night. To his left was a parking garage. In it was his woman.

Broder gunned the motorcycle inside, his blood a torpedo headed straight for her.

Fangs scraped Jessa’s throat and the man’s huge body—he’d seemed so harmless a few seconds ago!—anchored her to the parking garage floor. No amount of screaming seemed to help and the only thing going through her head right now was
oh, shit
on repeat.

She’d always wondered what her last thought would be.

Suddenly the man was gone. No, wait, not gone—
launched
.

One moment another drop of freezing-cold saliva dangling on his fang had been about to drip onto her cheek; the next moment … nothing.

Pushing up on her elbows, she watched as the man careened through the air like a wadded-up piece of paper to land near a big black motorcycle, apparently her savior’s mode of transport. A huge guy with dark hair and dressed from head to toe in a long, ancient-looking leather duster strode after the man … thing … whatever it was. And he looked
pissed.

Biker Guy grabbed Fanged Thing by the front of his shirt and hefted him. They struggled and she wasn’t sure who was going to win. Fanged Thing was stronger than he seemed. Alarmed, she crab-walked backward until she hit the tire of a nearby car. Fanged Thing growled and snapped at Biker Guy, but he wasn’t taking any guff. Then Fanged Thing punched Biker Guy in the side and wiggled out of his grasp.

Okay. Time to go. Wrong guy winning.

Her breathing came out harsh, panicked. After taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she scrambled up, going for her tote bag, her fingers scrabbling on the filthy pavement to collect her car keys.

Good etiquette might dictate that she remain and thank her liberator, but she’d had a good look at Biker Guy and, frankly, even if he were victorious in this battle, the cure looked just as threatening as the illness.

Hands shaking, she scooped her cell phone up and opened her car door. Portions of her arms and shoulders burned with cold. Where Fanged Thing had touched her or dropped saliva, her skin had turned a light gray.
Whatever.
She’d deal with it later. Right now, she had to get out of there.

A distance away, she saw that Biker Guy had cornered Fanged Thing. Fanged Thing cowered in Biker Guy’s presence, raising his hands to shield his face and yelling,
“No, no!
”

Biker Guy pulled a huge gleaming silver dagger from somewhere on his person; it had been hidden by his long coat. The blade flashed in the light, swooped … and was knocked away as Fanged Thing completed a tricky move by sweeping Biker Guy’s legs out from under him. Biker Guy went down hard and Fanged Thing was on him, inhuman growls issuing from his throat and dangerous jaw snapping.

It didn’t look good for her leather-clad savior.

Okay,
really
time to go.

Jessamine sank into the driver’s seat and started her car engine with shaking hands. The sound made Fanged Thing’s head snap up. In that same moment, the silver dagger flashed upward and sank into Fanged Thing’s chest. Fanged Thing exploded into … glass? Or was that ice? Were those
ice
pellets? Could it really be … she squinted, watching the ice, or whatever it was, settle onto the biker dude and the floor around him in glimmering shards and tiny chunks.

Biker Guy looked up at her, the blade he’d used to explode Fanged Thing dripping with water … or melted ice.

Eyes wide, hands shaking, mind blown, Jessa gunned the engine of her car. Tires squealing, she was out of there.

She raced around the levels of the parking garage, hands white on the steering wheel, going as fast as she could without careening into parked vehicles. The sound of her tires squealing on the pavement echoed throughout the parking structure. Just as she’d nearly reached the exit ramp, the rough sound of an engine reached her ears and a black motorcycle appeared in front of her car … and stopped, blocking her path.

Jessa slammed on the brakes, sliding on the pavement, hot rubber scenting the air, and stopped the car a breath’s space from Biker Guy’s leg—he looked completely unworried.

Her breath shuddered out of her. She gripped the steering wheel and stared through the windshield at the man, taking stock. A chunk of her long hair had come free from her ponytail and lay over her face. It rose and fell with her panicked breaths.

Her savior was good-looking. Intimidating, for sure. Dangerous seeming, no doubt. Not
GQ
handsome like Dmitri. This guy looked like he’d just been sprung from prison with that heated scowl on his face.

He was tall and he was ripped. The roll of his muscles could be seen easily underneath his clothes. What was worse,
and completely inappropriate
, was how he made her respond—like a woman to a man. It was instant, primal, and wholly unwelcome. This man made her whole body sit up and take notice.

Even so, he was definitely not someone she’d want to encounter in an empty parking garage late at night.

Yet, she’d thought Fanged Thing had looked completely harmless before he’d vamped out on her, and this man had probably saved her life. She thought about that Dmitri guy and his creepy warning—which had turned out to be true. Could it be that this was Opposite Night, when all the decent-looking men were dangerous and all dangerous-looking men were decent?

Biker Guy swung off the cycle, leaving the admittedly beautiful thing blocking her way, and stalked toward her, long worn leather coat trailing behind him like the wings of a fallen angel. He walked with anger set into his shoulders and a hint of menace and easy arrogance in his swagger. That anger made his body seem like it would be hot to the touch, as if he identified so strongly with rage that it affected him physically.

She hoped his eyes didn’t bleed black. She’d have a heart attack and save everyone the trouble of having to kill her.

“You!”
he bellowed through the window. She jumped at the commanding sound of his voice.

“I don’t know you,” she said in a shaky voice, glancing at him, then moving her gaze to fix on the cycle blocking her path. “Move your bike. I gotta go.”

“No.” He paused. “Roll down the window.” Absently, she noticed he spoke with an odd accent she couldn’t place.

Jessa took a deep breath and tried her mojo—funneling all of it she possibly could at the man. She didn’t know exactly how it worked, why she could do it, or really
how
she was even able to do it, but if she concentrated hard enough, she could make people bend to her will. Sort of like a Jedi mind trick—
This is not the woman you’re interested in. Move away from the vehicle.

The man lifted his brows. “Roll down the window,” he repeated, slower this time, as if she were an idiot.

Damn it! Why wasn’t it working?

When she remained still and unresponsive, completely freaked out and unmoving, he tapped the glass. With effort, she peeled her fingers off the steering wheel and rolled down her window a crack. She glanced up at him. God, he was stunning. Sculpted, strong jaw; full lips that compelled a girl to want to suck on them; deep, oddly expressive brown eyes.

“Uh, thanks … for your help. I appreciate it.” She looked at his motorcycle. “Really. I have to go now. Can you move that, please?”

“Why was he targeting you?” The man’s voice was deep
and rough, like he didn’t use it very much—like honey and gravel.