FALL (The Senses) (47 page)

Maybe Waleron was, but coming
from a vamp’s mouth it pissed her off. “God, Blood, way to ruin good sex.” She
threw back the sheet and coldness sank into her bones. “And turn up the heat
next time I come over.”

He grabbed her hand before she
could vault out of bed. Strength impeded her from going anywhere, a benefit of
the vamps. Rough handling she was accustomed to, but it didn’t mean she took to
it well. “Hands off, Blood.”

The corner of his lips curved
upwards, and the flash of battle flared in his eyes. Crap, he was itching for a
fight, and she didn’t have time for his bull. “He has you wrapped around his
little finger. A whisper of a word from him and you come running. I beg you to
come to me more often, and you fluff me off like a pesky fly.”

“He’s our Taldeburu, Blood. Don’t
put pressure on what’s between us. Sex. No strings. That’s all I will ever
give. You knew this in the beginning.”

“But I didn’t know how much I’d
like you,” he said, and with a sharp tug pulled her beneath him and trapped her
with his arms on either side of her head, his weight on her midsection.

She sighed. She liked him too . .
. in a round-about-sort-of way. Sexy. Hot. Dangerous. Bonus was she didn’t need
condoms, as vamps didn’t carry diseases or impregnate, something she didn’t
need happening ever again. And, well . . . he was against the rules. “Jedrik
will be wondering why I never checked in.”

“Since when do you check in with
anyone? And Jedrik’s a pansy.”

“Sharpshooter with an arrow and
has a hate-on for vamps."

“He also went out of the city
tonight,” Liam said with a smile.

Shit, he knew everything that
went on in this city, and it pissed her off. His contacts stretched further
than the Senses’. “Got me,” Delara said.

“Not yet, my sweetness. Perhaps
one day I will.”

Yeah, right. That would be the
same day she and Waleron tied the knot.

Time to get him off and her out
the door. It wasn’t a chore; he was great in bed and looked after her needs
more than his own. She raised her arm and hooked the back of his neck, dragging
him downward. “You drive me crazy.” Well, he did with his body, and yeah he had
the charisma—sexy, alluring and charming all rolled into one big package.
Problem was she always hated herself after she left his place, hated that she
did this to ease another kind of suffering.

“Do I?” he drawled as he kept his
lips inches from her own.

“Hmmm.” She attempted to pull him
closer, but he resisted. Typical play for him. Games were his forte. She
reached between them and found the heated length, curling her fingers around
the hardness. “And I need you right now.” She raised her hips and placed him
inside her.

He threw his head back and
groaned a low animalistic sound. “Sweetness. Christ,” he moaned.

Delara smiled at the control she
had over him. She pulled his head down and took his lips for her own.

****

Kilter’s guess was that the
Neanderthal wouldn’t kill her. She was too precious to her husband. Still,
watching her being held in the bastard’s grip was sending his wrath into
overdrive, which meant acting irrational regardless of the risk.

Her frightened eyes widened at
something behind him. Shit, he’d lost his concentration and wasn’t paying
attention to what his senses were telling him. Woman behind with the smell of
cold metal in her hand. Risk or not, he had to act fast.

He leapt forward, slamming his
full weight into Ben and Rayne just as the sound of a gun exploded.

Kilter felt the recognizable
searing pain in the back of his shoulder. Christ, he didn’t need this shit.

The slight body beneath him
shifted, and he thanked God he hadn’t broken every bone in her body landing on
top of her as he did. The waif of a girl was like a pick-up-stick, but bone
instead of wood.

Kilter pushed Rayne aside and
then plowed his fist into the guy’s throat. He heard the sharp gasp of pain and
took the opportunity to fire his gun at whoever had put the lead in his
shoulder.

A female’s voice erupted from
around the corner of the corridor and he scented that it wasn’t the same woman
who’d shot him. “Let her go, and I will consider letting you live.”

Kilter wanted to laugh at the
preposterous notion. “Like hell,” he said, and to make his point clear he shot
off a round in her direction.

The air shifted and he
immediately knew what the woman was—a Lilac. He tried to raise the Scar on his
lower back, but being shot deterred him from using it. It was a kind of
self-preservation, considering his Scar took an abundance of energy from his
body.

A fuckin’ Lilac. They needed to
vacate ASAP, or they’d be trapped in her nasty webs and be praying for death.

He kicked out at Ben’s arm as the
Neanderthal raised his gun. It went flying across the corridor and hit the
wall. He rolled to the side, grabbed the back of Rayne’s sweatshirt and hauled
her to her feet.

“A blast about now would come
in handy,”
Kilter said to Quill using telepathy.

“Location?
” Quill asked.

“Ground floor. Foyer doors. We
are five feet away, so don’t blow us up for fuck sake.”

“Righty oh,
” Quill replied.

Within seconds, a loud blast
sounded, throwing Ben off balance and giving Kilter the opportunity he needed.
He changed his aim from the she-bastard, who had disappeared at the end of the
corridor, and hit the baldheaded Neanderthal in the chest. He went crashing
into the opposite wall. Wouldn’t kill him instantly, but he deserved a slow
agonizing death. Besides, this place was laced with Quill’s explosives.

The foyer doors suddenly
exploded, metal frame and glass shattering in all directions. Nice timing,
Quill, he thought.

“Go. Door. Now,” Kilter shouted
as another blast shook the ground. He pushed her ahead of him as he turned to
cover their backs. His ability was recuperating from all the code boxes he’d
tampered with, so he shot off three rounds in the direction of the stairwell,
but the Lilac was nowhere in sight.

Time to go.

He dove for the door and burst
out into the daylight.

His feet skidded to a halt.

Mr. Pompous-ass husband stood
with his hands in a chokehold around Rayne’s neck. Her lips quivered and were
turning blue as she struggled for breath.
Give me a break
. Her eyes bulged,
and her feet dangled inches off the ground. Slim fingers tore at Anton’s
vicious death hold, but her husband ignored the scratches.

It was the trickle of blood
slipping from the corner of her mouth that sent his fury into final overdrive.
White-hot flashes ignited as he struggled to contain the instinct to leap on
her husband. He felt Quill’s voice inside him trying to soothe the rage, but he
ignored him as he went into destructive mode.

There was one choice.

In a single flash, he reached in
his boot for his backup knife and threw it without a second thought. It hit its
mark, directly in the upper arm that was holding Rayne’s throat, inches away
from her ear. Pompous-butt screamed in pain at the same time as waif-girl
sucked in gasps of air and fell to her knees.

“Quill, get your butt over
here and get this chick out of this hellhole,
”
Kilter said.

“You won’t get away with this,”
Anton shouted, holding his arm. “She will come after—”

He ran at Anton, jumping over
Rayne and then pounding his fist into Anton’s face. He smiled hearing the crack
of bone as it made contact with his nose. A human was no match for him, even
one as muscular as Pompous Ass Piranha King. Hand to hand, a Senses was ten
times stronger.

He homed in on any movement
around them, but oddly, it was quiet except for Quill’s explosions going off.
He shoved his fist repeatedly into Piranha’s face. Blood splattered his chest
and knuckles. A blind rage tore through his insides at the image of Rayne
dangling, eyes wide with horror, lips trembling. What the hell had she been
living through here? What had her husband done to her? He wanted to destroy the
bastard and tear him limb from limb.

“Kilter, out now!” Quill grabbed
his arm and pulled him off the wheezing husband. “We have two minutes before
this place turns into an erupting volcano.”

Kilter roared at the
interruption. He wanted to finish him off. The sick bastard deserved to die by
his hand for what he did to the girl.

“Kilter, let’s go. If he’s not
already dead, he will be.” Quill slammed his hand into his back, pushing him
away from the huddled body on the ground.

Kilter growled low and deadly and
took a step towards the motionless form when he heard the soft shuffling of
feet behind him. He turned his wild eyes on the girl who was ready to dash from
him at any second. She met his crazed murderous eyes and began to back away. It
took him four strides to seize her arm and jolt her to a dead stop.

“Kilter,” Quill warned.

He ignored the objection and
grabbed her hand, placing the knife in it. “Finish him.”

Her eyes shifted to her husband
lying in a pool of blood. “I . . . I can’t.”

“He deserves to die,” Kilter
said.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He gave a curt nod and took the
knife, walked over to her husband and in one swoop swept it across his throat.

“You want to be on a BBQ?
Let’s get out of here, man,
” Quill said.

Kilter locked his arm around her
waist, and they hauled ass to the wall.