Hunter's Rise (17 page)

Bending down, she grabbed her bag. When she turned around, he was there. Her breath caught in her throat as he crowded her up against a wall, his body blocking her in, one arm resting by the wall near her head, the other coming up to rest lightly on her hip.

Too intimate—

“Listen, Sylvia…” He dipped his head and once more breathed in her scent. “We need to get something straight. You’re not… aw, hell. You smell so good.”

As he turned his face into her hair, she shuddered. “Okay. I’m glad we got that straight, wolf. I smell good— glad we got that nice and squared away. Now. Can you give me some space?”

“No.” He pushed his thigh between hers.

Shock flooded her.
Heat
flooded her. “What…”

“My name is Toronto,” he whispered against her ear. “Say it.”

“Tor… Toronto?” She tipped her head back, frowning. “That’s a…”
Hated place. I hate that place, I hate that place, I hate that place…
“Weird name.”

“Yeah. So what? Say it again. I want to make sure you remember it. Because sometime very damn soon, I’m going to be inside you, Sylvia.” The last words were spoken in a growl against her lips.

“Toronto.” She opened for him even as she reached up and jerked the band from his hair.

C
HAPTER 11

D

ARK
. Mysterious. That was her taste. Like the night. Something exotic and sweet. Stroking his tongue along her lip, he waited until she’d curled an arm around his neck before he took her mouth in a deeper, rougher kiss.

Her fangs were down. He teased one of them with his tongue. Hot satisfaction burned through him as she shuddered.
Meals on Wheels
—she’d thought she’d been being insulting when she’d said it. She didn’t know much about wolves. Much about Hunters for that matter. He didn’t mind feeding vamps— so long as it was
his
decision.

It could save lives. Beyond that, vamps could make a bite pretty damn pleasant, especially if it was a female partner. And when it was a woman he wanted in bed?

She didn’t know it, but he had every intention of feeding her at some point. He’d wanted it from the first moment he’d seen her, just as he’d wanted to feel that lushly curved body under his own. She’d just moved up the timetable. As she started to rock her hips against his, he eased back, falling on the control she’d taunted him about.

Yeah. He had control. He just didn’t always choose to
use
it.

Tonight, though, and for the next few days, he’d have to.

Lifting his head, he stared down at her, her swollen mouth, her eyes— when she was hungry, they glowed with a strange, silvery light, almost like they were flecked with a hundred tiny stars. Lovely…

Lashes swept down, hiding her eyes. He watched as she took one deep breath, then another.

As she did that, he pulled his hand from her waist, lifted it. She was trying to ease away as he sank his teeth into his wrist.

She froze as the scent of blood flooded the air.

He pulled her back against him, turning her so that her back was against his front. “Feed,” he whispered against her ear. “You need it, I think.”

He’d explain why later.

She hesitated, and he pushed his wrist closer.

It wasn’t until she covered his bleeding wrist with her mouth that he did the other thing he’d been dying to do… he slid his hand down the front of her body and cupped the heat of her in his palm.

She arched against him with a startled cry.

“Feed,” he whispered again, rubbing the heel of his hand against her.

I

T
was a shocking, almost brutal assault on her senses. His blood— she’d never had
anything
like it. It was almost orgasmic, just that.

But then he reached between her thighs, covering the aching heat of her sex, Sylvia came apart. Wave after wave pulsed through her, battering her senses. It was a damn good thing she didn’t
have
to breathe, because she couldn’t. As he stroked her, as his blood flowed into her, he continued to mutter to her, his voice a low, husky rumble in her ear.

Then it was over, another shock to her senses. She clutched at his arm, unable to stand. Her head spun, her body pulsed and she felt…
alive
… almost too alive. Drunk, even. But she couldn’t
get
drunk. God knew she’d tried over the past century, especially those first few years after she’d managed to escape—

No—

A hand stroked her hair, and she forced herself to open her eyes, swallow. The wine-rich taste of his blood lingered on her tongue, an addictive one that she already wished she’d never had. She didn’t think she’d ever want to feed from another for as long as she lived.

She might hate him a little bit for that. Hell, if she was smart, she
should
hate him for what he’d just done… except she wanted to strip off her clothes and beg him to do it again. And then she wanted to strip his clothes away and do it to him, and…

Shit.

Behind her, his body was hot and hard, cradling her with surprising gentleness. His hand continued to stroke her hair as he touched his lips to her shoulder. “I wanted to let you feed from my neck, but I had a feeling if we did it that way, I’d end up on top of you for the rest of the night. We’ve already lost too much of it.”

“Quite possibly. You know… I should hit you for doing that.” Sylvia closed her eyes.

He rubbed his lips over her shoulder. “I’ll let you if you want to take a shot. I can even say I’m sorry… should I?”

“No. Because I’m not sorry you did it, you jerk.” Sighing, she shifted her gaze to the window, staring out into the night. “I never sleep this late.”

“That’s… probably my fault.”

She frowned at the odd note in his voice. Shrugging away from him, she moved to stand on the other side of the room. “Perhaps you should explain that.”

“How old are you?”

She made a face at him. “You know, vampire or not, some might still consider it rude to ask a woman how old she is.”

“How old are you? Our research puts you at over a hundred. Your skill level seems to go with that. But I don’t think you’re particularly strong.” He paused, waiting. When she didn’t say anything, he sighed and glanced at the closet. “I opened the door while you were sleeping. It was only for about two seconds and sunlight hit you. You burned. That’s probably…”

Why I’m so tired.
She’d used resources healing the damned burn. Damn him. “Look, I just don’t take sunlight as well as others.” With a brittle-edged smile, she added, “You should have seen me as a mortal.”

“You don’t take sunlight well.” He lifted a brow. “You’re not newly turned. But you can’t take two seconds of day? Again, how old are you?”

Sylvia set her jaw. She’d be damned if she answered. “You know, how old I am is hardly any of
your
business. Now, while I appreciate the delivery service, I need to get to work.”

She kept him in her line of sight as she edged around the room to get her bag. He seemed like he was going to push the issue. Apparently he decided on pushing another issue instead.

“Look, sweetheart. I’ve already told you… we’re doing this together.” He caught her arm, his thumb stroking along the sensitive skin inside her elbow. “You probably know as well as I do, you can’t exactly beat me. So how are you going to stop me?”

“You always this overbearing, Toronto?”

He grimaced and shoved a hand through his hair. “Usually, I’m about ten times worse. Consider yourself lucky I’m trying to be nice to you.” After a glance around the floor, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a band, tying his hair back once again.

“So. Do we do this the easy way or not?” He stared at her, eyes watching her closely.

She was tempted to tell him to shove off. But Sylvia had worked pretty damn hard to build her self-worth back up. If she pushed him, they’d end up doing this the hard way. She couldn’t win against him, not without a lot of dirty tricks.

“I have to finish this job,” she said quietly. How could she make him understand that? She
finished
jobs. Especially jobs like this. It wasn’t just a matter of pride. It was… it was part of her. She had to finish the job. And even aside from the fact that she didn’t leave jobs unfinished, she couldn’t walk away from the memories of this one.

She closed her eyes, and she saw Toby, and she thought of another boy. One from so long ago— another who’d died
because of a monster. She
had
to find Pulaski. Had to stop him. If he didn’t die, if she didn’t know he would stop, the nightmares wouldn’t stop.

In a low voice, he said, “If we find him alive, once I get what I need from him, he’s yours.”

Sylvia averted her face— she couldn’t keep looking at him. For some reason, she
wanted
to trust him, even though that was the absolute last thing she should do. She didn’t trust anybody. Ever. It was a rule of hers. She’d stopped trusting people after the last one had screwed her over and landed her in this living nightmare that was life as a vampire.

A weak vampire— one who burned with even two seconds of sunlight—

“Why should I trust you? How can I trust you to hold up your end of the bargain?”

“Because I said I would,” he said, his voice flat. “I’m giving you my word.”

“And just
why
should that mean jack to me?” She planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “I realize half of the freaks in this world think you guys are saints and the other half is terrified, but I don’t fall into either camp. I trust somebody after they’ve
earned
it. Why
should
I trust you?”

He reached out and snagged the front of her shirt, moving so fast she barely had time to evade his grasp. Judging by the glint in his blue eyes, she decided it would be better to not bother just then. Besides, being pressed against that body wasn’t a hardship. “How about we put it this way, sweetheart… I’m telling you that you can have him, and you can either just take a chance on that… or I’ll haul you to the Enclave and just lock you in one of the isolation chambers. You’ll get out when I decide you can come out.”

Even though the thought of being locked up was enough to send fear ripping through her, she’d be damned if she showed that. Sylvia rose up on her toes and put her face in his. Baring her fangs at him, she snarled, “Just try it.”

“Oh, you know I can do it.” His voice was low, menacing and soft, but his hand oddly gentle as he stroked it back through her hair. “You’ll bloody me. I’ll hate having to do it. But you know I can. So why push it?”

*  *  *

S

OMETHING
dark and painful moved through her eyes before she hid it. Toronto hated himself for putting it there. He knew what had done it, too. Up until he’d mentioned the isolation chambers, she’d been fine. Pissed off, but fine. Not afraid. Oh, there had been some fear, but nothing like that screaming, silent hell.

She clamped it down, got it under control— it barely even had time to change her scent. He wondered at that. A fear that wild, that strong… it usually showed, and lingered. Unless a person had learned in painful, painful ways
not
to let it show.

I won’t do that again
, he promised her silently. Reaching up, he toyed with a lock of her hair, wondering how to undo the damage he’d just caused. “We can do this working together. I don’t want him— I just need that information. And I imagine you’re a clever woman. You can probably figure out a way to kill him, leave the body so he’s found… without it being tracked back to you. That way the families of his victims get that final closure.”

Her lashes flickered.

He tugged lightly on her hair. “Don’t act like you don’t feel pity for them.” He continued to toy with her hair, not looking into her eyes, giving her a few minutes to steady, to think. To decide. “If you didn’t feel pity, you wouldn’t take jobs like this for free.”