Authors: Theresa Meyers
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Fantasy, #Romance, #Paranormal
The Slayer (23 page)
“Nope. Even at home.”
She blinked, her long lashes fanning for a moment over her cheeks. “Why is that? You have brothers.”
Winn shrugged. “Don't mean we're all cut from the same cloth.”
“But you're all Hunters.”
He tried to smile, but it ended up a more sad, half-tilting of his lips. “I'm not a Hunter. Not anymore. If I had been, I would have been able to tell that Boris was something unnatural. I would have known how to defeat those werewolves. I may be the Chosen, but I'm a sad specimen of Hunter. Shouldn't be one at all.”
Winn leaned his head back against the cushions and stared up at the diamond pattern of golden threads woven through the red brocade lining the interior of the opulent traveling coach.
“Why is that?” she coaxed softly.
“I've done things I'm not proud of.”
Alexa turned to fully face him and laid her free hand upon him, sending a ripple of awareness up his arm. “We all have.”
Her sensual fragrance was driving him insane. Winn turned his head and looked at her. He'd certainly been wrong about her. Hell, in just a short span of time he'd come to think of her as an equal. He valued her bravery, her judgment, her keen intelligence, and her refined manners. She was beautiful, not in some flowery way, but in a lush, carnal fashion that made him think of what her curves would look like beneath silk sheets.
Beneath him.
She moved in closer, the soft swell of her breast over the edge of her bodice pressing against his arm, making him rock hard.
“Why do you hold yourself back?” she whispered. She caressed his cheek with her smooth, gentle fingers. Winn moved enough to be able to bring the tips of her fingers in contact with his mouth and lightly kissed them.
How could he possibly explain that every time he'd let someone get close to him, he or she eventually paid a terrible price? And while all the situations and people had been different, there'd been just one consistencyâhim. His mother, Colt, his pa. All of them at one time or another had suffered because of him. “Trust me, Tessa, you're better off not linking your train to my engine. We ain't even on the same track.”
He should have known by now she wasn't one for taking suggestions. She leaned into him, her soft breasts pressing against his chest. Alexa's eyes narrowed slightly, her mouth forming an all too kissable pout.
“Your mouth says no, Mr. Jackson, but your eyes say
da
.” His heart beat loudly in his ears as she slowly closed the space between them, her lips touching his in a slow, sensual kiss that burned. Winn put his hands on her shoulders to push her back, but the contact started a warm fizzing sensation in his blood that quickly turned to a heated rush, burning away all sense of what was right and what was wrong.
da
.” His heart beat loudly in his ears as she slowly closed the space between them, her lips touching his in a slow, sensual kiss that burned. Winn put his hands on her shoulders to push her back, but the contact started a warm fizzing sensation in his blood that quickly turned to a heated rush, burning away all sense of what was right and what was wrong.
The instant her slick tongue slid against his in invitation to deepen the kiss, all hell broke loose inside him, opening the gate to temptation. He used his hold on her shoulders to pull her into his lap, then let his hands travel down the arch of her back to knead the soft curve of her hip as pure male need took over.
She wriggled on his lap, but her voluminous skirts, petticoats, and bustle made truly enjoying her assets almost impossible in the confines of the carriage. But between the two of them he thought they could find a way to manage. Her hands fisted in his hair, and her kisses turned demanding. The smell of her, spicy and floral at the same time, filled his senses, making him wonder whether her most secretive places tasted as sweet. The buzzing sensation in his system almost canceled out the sharp, swift nip at his lip. But he didn't miss the slow, lazy lap of her tongue against the cut.
He pulled back from their kiss, his breathing harsh and fast. “You just tasted my blood.”
Winn tore his gaze away from her, looking at the scenery outside the windows as it changed from rural to the outskirts of a city. He tried to gain his bearings while his heart thumped loud and hard against his ribs.
“You have no idea how good you taste.”
He could hardly fault her when he'd been thinking the same damn thing, albeit in a different manner. He turned and stared at her. Her eyes were luminous.
“Maybe this ain't the time and place for us to try that out right now, seeing how it's only fair if I get to taste you in return.”
Her skin flushed with pleasure. “Is that a promise I can hold you to?”
“Yes, ma'am,” he said, his tone husky with need. He pulled her in for one more kiss and broke it reluctantly.
“We must be getting close to Paris,” she murmured.
More carriages, and carts, horses, people, and steam cars began to crowd the road, a mess of noise and dust. The acrid stench of smoke and refuse blended with the good scents of roasting meat and fresh laundry being dried outside. Paris was a contradiction, just like him. Just like the contessa. A compassionate vampire. He never would have believed it if he hadn't met her himself. “We ought to focus on interpreting the clues Mama Zinka gave us.”
Alexa sighed, sliding from his lap and settling back into the carriage seat beside him. “Very well.”
“Tell me again where Mama Zinka claims the Book is.”
“She said the Book was deep with the bones and guarded by an empire of the dead,” Alexa muttered. She stared at the stone walls that formed the boundaries around Paris. “What does it mean?”
“Don't like it. Sounds to me like we're going to be battling the living dead. And she did mention them.”
Alexa nibbled at the fingernail on her index finger. “It can't be that. The Hunters would have wiped out a large contingent of zombies ages ago. Parisian Hunters are most vigilant about hunting down Darkin within the city.”
“What about a cemetery? Plenty of bones there,” Winn grumbled. A full-body chill threaded through him at the idea of even going close to a graveyard again after having gotten so personal with Yakov in his casket. The next time he saw a damn cemetery he wanted to be good and dead.
Her face lit with clarity. “The catacombs! Of course.”
“Catacombs?” Winn's neck itched with agitation, and he tugged at the end of his mustache, making the waxed tip of it stick out sharply.
“Since Roman times the limestone used to build the city has been cut from its heart. Beneath Paris there run miles of quarry tunnels turned ossuary for the overflowing cemeteries of the city. It is an empire of the dead.”
Winn ground his teeth. The last place he wanted to go was back under the earth with even more dead people, reduced to bones or not. Their carriage slowed, caught up by the snarl of traffic into the city.
“What we need to do is lose Frobisher's men,” Winn muttered.
Alexa turned to him, a saucy smile on her lips. “I think I may have a way.” Her eyes rolled to white, before her lashes fluttered shut and she slumped to the seat.
Winn shook her lightly. “Alexa?”
No response. Was she unconscious? Hell, he couldn't exactly feel her pulse to tell. “Alexa?”
One eye opened a crack.
Call the guards
, her voice echoed in his head. Her eye shut again. Winchester smiled to himself. She was certainly a clever little minx.
Call the guards
, her voice echoed in his head. Her eye shut again. Winchester smiled to himself. She was certainly a clever little minx.
He leaned over, pressing his face against the carriage window, and motioned furiously to the guard. He slammed his fist on the roof to alert the driver in the box above them. The carriage veered out of traffic to the edge of the cobblestone street and slowed to a stop. The heavy padlocks on the door were unlocked, and the chain made a chinking sound as metal links slid through the handles on the outside of the carriage.
Simpsonâor was it Wexler?âopened the door and poked his head into the carriage. “Oy, what's the problem?”
“She passed out cold. Just slumped over. You idiots haven't carried any wolfsbane in here, have you?”
The guard's brow furrowed. “No. Well, least not that I know. Now the governor, he might use that kind of thing. Has a host of stuff what he uses to control them nasty Darkin.”
Winn stared hard at the guard. “Focus, man. She needs help.”
“Oh no. Can't have you leave the carriage until we reach what place you've got the Book. Frobisher's orders.”
“She's the only one who knows where the Book is located. If we don't revive her, then I'm not going to be able to locate the Book, and I think that's probably a bigger priority for your lieutenant than keepin' us in some carriage, don't you?”
The guard licked his nearly nonexistent lips, his gaze darting from Winn to Alexa a few times as he considered his options. Finally he gave a reluctant jerk of his head. “Right enough, captain. What we gonna' do? Don't know nothing about helping Darkin.”
“First of all, help me get her out. Perhaps she just needs some fresh air. It was hot as hell in this box.”
He looked puzzled. “But vampires don't breathe.”
“It's not for the oxygen, you idgit. It's to cool her off. With as many layers as she's wearing it's a miracle she didn't pass out sooner than this.”
The guard blushed slightly. He took hold of her booted ankles, and Winn hooked his hands beneath her arms at the shoulder joint. Before they were even down the first step, Alexa sprang into action.
She slipped from Winn's light grasp and kicked the guard square on the chin. His head snapped back, and he slipped to the ground with a thud, unconscious. There was just enough time for Winn to grab the man's sidearms and Alexa to pull out the small cyanide gun from her skirts before they darted into traffic. The city became a blur of sound and color as they dodged the carts and a rearing horse, startled as they made a beeline into the alley. The other two guards were off their horses, abandoning the carriage and yelling and chasing after them.
“This way!” Alexa barreled down the alley, which stank of urine and refuse at full speed, and Winn had to pump his arms and legs hard to keep up with her. Vampires could flat-out move. A trapping net, created from heavy hemp ropes and weighted with three small metal balls, went sailing past Winn's shoulder and thumped against a brick wall. He glanced back to see the guards discard their net launcher and pull out their guns.
“Go. Go. Go!” he yelled. Bullets pinged against a nearby wall, sending stinging bits of brick flying. Winn raised up his arm, trying to protect her from the worst of the shrapnel, pushing her around the corner ahead of him.
They circled the city block, zigzagging across traffic three times into different alleys. There was no time to gaze at the trees that lined the cobblestone streets in their gay, spring green, or to admire the sparkle of early evening sun on the ripples of the Seine, both things that he should have been doing in Paris with a beautiful woman.
Instead, sweat trickled down his neck, and his heart was beating so hard, he could barely hear over his own pulse. They pressed their backs against the cool bricks, and Winn glanced at her. Dark curls had dampened and curled, framing the edges of her face, and her eyes were bright.
“This ain't exactly how I'd envisioned sightseeing in Paris,” he said with a touch of humor. He gently brushed a few chips of brick off of her smooth skin, the familiar tingling when he touched her zipping up his arm, straight to his chest, then lower.
Her glorious mouth broadened into a smile, and she laughed, the sound of it easing the raw tension that coiled in his gut, helping him to focus. “Life with you is never boring, is it?” she teased.
Winn bit down on his tongue and held back his response. Since giving up hunting his life had become as dull as the sandstone that surrounded Bodie. He'd convinced himself that safe was better than dead, but maybe that wasn't the case. While the thought of having two trained Hunters after him and the contessa didn't make him happy, it certainly did make him feel alive.
“We need to get back toward the edge of the city. That's where the entrance to the catacombs will be,” she said. The little tinge of excitement in her voice was infectious.
Winn nodded.
“Have we lost them yet?” she asked.
He peered around the corner and saw a flash of red. He wasn't sure if it was a lady's fancy walking dress or a split-second glimpse of the uniform Frobisher's men wore, but he sure as hell wasn't taking chances. They needed to find a better place to hide. Fast.
“If we get out of this alive, remind me never to trust another Hunter,” he muttered.
She gave him a sad smile. “I told you Hunters here were not like you. They are more a military group, obeying only one leader who is tenacious, like an English bulldog.”
Scanning the tops of the buildings, Winn spotted a spire about one block over. Perhaps they had a good place to hide after all. “I've got an idea.”
Alexa slipped her small hand in his, and they hurried toward the church. Winn tried hard not to look at her. It hurt to. Once they found the Book, she'd go back to Transylvania and become Vladimir's bride, and he'd go back and try to help his brothers save the world. Noble, but hardly a happy ending. Hell, maybe he didn't deserve a happy ending after everything he'd done. He gave her hand a squeeze to reassure himself she was there, even though he felt her slipping further and further away from him emotionally the closer they came to getting the Book.
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