Blood Hunt

Hope was still staring in shock as the poisoned man came toward her. His movements were a bit shaky, but purpose filled his every stride. “You have to help him. He needs your blood.”



A spike of fear struck her as she realized she knew nothing about these men or what they wanted. The mention of blood had her mind reeling, going through all the ritualistic killings she’d heard of over the years, the whispers of what might have befallen those who’d gone missing. The things humans would do to one another were sickening.



Hope backed away, but the stranger caught her arm. “Please help him. He’s dying and needs blood. I have to find my wife.”



“I’ll call for an ambulance.”



“I know this is a lot to accept, but look over there.” He pointed to the sagging corpse of the monster. “That thing is real, as are a lot of other things in this world. Right now, you need to accept that fact and save a dying man.”



“I don’t understand.”



The man’s mouth tightened in anxious frustration. “Go to him. Tell him you offer to help him. He’ll do the rest.”



That made no sense. “Stop it,” she said, jerking her arm out of his grasp.



Love brighter than any she’d ever seen coursed through his aura, twining with fear. “I need to find my wife. She’s out there alone, pregnant and scared out of her mind.”



His wife was a lucky woman. Hope had never known a man who loved as deeply as this one did.



He stared down at her, worry twisting his face. “If I could help Logan myself, I would, but I was poisoned. He saved my life. Please. Please save his.”



With that, the man turned and left to find his wife, disappearing through the opening in the metal door in an awkward, hurried sprint.



Hope looked down at Logan. His aura had shrunk. The colors dimmed. He had only a few minutes left to live.



She glanced over at the dead monster. He’d killed it. He’d apparently saved that man from poison somehow.



There were a lot of holes in Hope’s memories—things she would never know about herself. But there was one thing she knew for a fact: People who would willingly sacrifice themselves for another were rare in this world. She could not stand by and do nothing while one of them died.



She fell to her knees beside his body, ripping the gloves from her fingers so she could check for a pulse and make sure he was still breathing.



His leather coat hung open along his front, letting the cold sink into his body. If she didn’t do something, she feared he wouldn’t survive until an ambulance arrived.



Hope stripped out of her coat and covered his torso with it, praying the heat clinging to the quilted fabric would be enough to see him through. Immediately, the frigid air slid through her sweatshirt, its icy fingers stealing away her warmth.



She ignored the chill and jerked a blanket from her bag, sending a stack of sandwiches flying. She tucked that around him as well to keep him warm while help arrived.



With one hand, she pulled her cell phone from her back pocket, while feeling for his pulse with the other hand. It was faint, but there.



“Hold on,” she whispered to the stranger. “Help is on the way.”



She’d just dialed 9 when the man’s eyes fluttered open. They were a pale, silvery gray—so light that they seemed to almost glow in the darkness. She’d never seen eyes like his before. The color was mesmerizing, luring her to stare and keep staring.



Hope was sucked in by his gaze for a moment before she remembered what she was doing. “You need to hold on. I’m calling for an ambulance now. I’m going to help you.”



She moved to finish dialing. The phone was knocked from her hand and went flying across the concrete.



He’d moved so fast she hadn’t seen his hand strike out until it was too late. Shock streaked through her, and by the time she’d processed what he’d done, he’d grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her head to the side.



His eyes fixed on her throat, and she was sure she saw light spilling from them.



Fear cut off her scream. Her body seized up. All she could do was stare at him and wait for him to release her.



“I’m sorry,” he growled, letting out a rough, animal sound.



He became a blur of movement and enveloped her body in a crushing hug. He smelled of snow and desperation. His aura changed, pulsing with surges of bright blue victory. She felt the chill of his lips; then a sharp pain stabbed her neck. A moment later, a heavy, languid feeling fell over her, pinning her in place.



She couldn’t move. She couldn’t fight. And somewhere, a whispering presence in her mind told her she didn’t even want to try.



As his grip on her tightened and the ravenous tugging at her throat intensified, Hope just let go and drifted within his grasp.



He grew warmer. Or maybe she was getting colder. She couldn’t tell.



Pain that had been with her only moments ago turned to pleasure. Her body swelled with it, expanding with light and color. Tingling waves of warmth shivered through her limbs and pooled in her belly. A giggle bubbled within her, but she was too weak to let it out.



That pleasure grew until even the memory of pain was distant and inconsequential. All that mattered was drifting inside this cushion of comfort and purpose.



Whoever he was, whatever he was doing to her, Hope knew in her soul that he’d awakened something within her that would never again be lulled to sleep.



Power roared in the woman’s blood, stronger than any he’d ever tasted. Including the blood of the powerful Theronai Helen. Logan drank it down as survival instincts took over. He was heedless of his prey, gripping her tight so she couldn’t fight or flee.



He needed her, and he wasn’t going to let her go.



Weakness fell away as power seethed inside him, stretching his cells. Her blood was rich, purer than any he’d ever tasted. He couldn’t get enough. Each sucking gulp filled him more, driving away the pain of hunger and biting cold.



Warmth suffused him, making him giddy with relief. His cock stirred for the first time in centuries, shocking him. But even that shock could not penetrate the joyous feeling of no longer being hungry.



Her heart fluttered, struggling to pump blood that was not there. Her breathing faltered, and her hands fell limp at her sides. A quiet sound of pleasure spilled from her mouth.



It was that sound that saved her life.



Logan finally overcame the drunken high her blood gave him enough to realize he was killing her.



Anger at his carelessness swept through him as he willed the puncture wounds on her neck to close and ripped his mouth away from her skin. She lay limp and helpless in his grasp. Too pale. Too weak.



Her honey-colored hair splayed across the sleeve of his black coat. Her eyes slid open, and in them he saw betrayal.



Logan didn’t understand why she’d look at him that way until he realized what she’d tried to do here tonight. She wore no coat against the cold, but there was one her size draped over his lap. A blanket lay crumpled between them. Individually wrapped sandwiches sat a few feet away, discarded on the floor.



He suddenly remembered her words, her sweet voice reassuring him that an ambulance was on the way.



She’d come to him, offering help, and he’d nearly killed her.



Guilt bore down on Logan, driving away the intoxicating haze of finally being full after so many years of hunger. Only seconds had passed, but even those had pushed her closer to death.



She needed fluids. Human blood. He didn’t dare risk giving her his own for fear the shock to her system would kill her, or that some trace of poison lingered there. And even if his blood didn’t kill her, he couldn’t risk leaving her drugged by the narcotic effects his blood could cause.



She needed her memories of tonight purged so they could not draw Synestryn to her, but she was too weak for that. He’d have to find her later, after the humans had restored her health. After he had checked and made sure that Steve, Pam, and their child were safe.



Logan gathered up her body and rose to his feet. Muscles that had been withered for decades flexed, strong and solid in his limbs. The leather of his coat creaked against the stretch of his biceps. He reveled in that power—in feeling whole and strong, as he was meant to be.



There was a hospital not far from here. He ran toward it, his body gliding smoothly over the frozen ground. Buildings blurred past him as he moved. Wind tore at his face, but could not penetrate the warmth she’d given him.



Buoyant elation rose inside him, celebrating his survival. The woman in his arms was responsible for that, and he was not going to let her gift cause her death.



Logan would save her, and then when he did, he was going to find a way to repay her. He’d see to it that she was protected and cared for for the rest of her life.



The fact that she was heavily blooded, and therefore a perfect candidate for Project Lullaby, was only going to make that easier.



Logan cleared the emergency room doors and spotted the nurse behind the desk. She was young and plump, with a harried expression on her face and a name tag that read BARB. In one single instant, Barb’s gaze moved over Logan’s rescuer and dismissed her as unimportant. Beneath her notice.



“What drugs is she on?” asked the nurse as Logan approached.



Annoyance rose to the surface, tightening Logan’s mouth. He refused to waste time arguing with Barb. Instead, he stared into her eyes and grabbed a hold of her mind.



Her face went slack and she swayed on her feet for a moment. Logan stilled her thoughts of disdain for Hope and replaced them with something else. He wove within her mind a series of emotional responses to events that never happened, implanting fleeting memories of Barb and Hope laughing and crying together. He borrowed from thoughts of Barb’s sister, and connected them to Hope, creating a temporary, artificial connection.



“You love this woman like a sister, don’t you?” asked Logan.



Pain creased Barb’s face and tears filled her eyes as Logan let go of her mind. “Oh God. What happened to her?”



Logan filled his voice with compulsion, refusing to leave Hope’s care to chance. “She needs a blood transfusion. Fluids. Immediately. Move!”



“Get a gurney!” shouted Barb.



Behind the desk, people scurried to obey.



Logan laid the woman on the clean white sheets. In the bright fluorescent lighting, he could see how beautiful she was. Her features were elegant, with high arching eyebrows and smooth, flawless skin. Her bone structure was model perfect, exquisite in its symmetry. Even now, with death hovering nearby, she had a regal beauty few humans possessed.



It was going to be a long time before he stopped seeing her face every time he closed his eyes. Even longer before he stopped seeing that look of betrayal shining in her gaze.



Logan turned and left her in the capable hands of her own people.



He’d done what he could. It was time to go and plan her place within Project Lullaby. His brother Tynan would help him decide where she would best belong—where she’d be happiest. They’d decide which man would be strong enough to ensure the continuation of her amazing bloodline.



The thought of putting her into the hands of another man gave him pause, but he assured himself it was only an aftereffect of taking so much of her blood. He felt connected. As if she were now part of him.

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