Blood Hunt

The Warden’s fall sped as Hope’s slowed. He gritted his teeth and pushed harder, commanding the wind to obey.



A few feet away, the Warden smashed into the concrete, shattering into countless pieces. Its dying scream was deafening, smashing several windows nearby.



Hope flailed high above. Logan shoved the last dregs of his power at the wind. It pushed her up and over the ledge of the building. His vision failed and he fell to his knees. He didn’t know if his aim was good, or if he’d merely sent her flying over the far side of the building.



All he knew was that what he’d done would cost him his life.



His heart stuttered, then stopped. His body toppled and cold consumed him.



Hope landed hard on the rooftop. The wind was knocked from her lungs. Her head spun. She had no idea how she was alive, but she’d seen Logan standing below, reaching for her.



He’d saved her.



She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled to the edge of the building. Below she saw the remains of the Warden sparkling on the pavement. Next to it was Logan, lying too still.



Panic gripped her hard and she scrambled for the door. She went back the way she’d come, but the elevator ride seemed to take half a year. By the time she shoved through the doors and out to Logan’s side, she’d had time to build up hope that he was alive.



As soon as she saw him, shriveled and still, that hope died.



He was only a shell of the man he’d been before. He looked old and dried up, as if the life had literally been wrung from him.



She fell to her knees at his side. He wasn’t breathing. She felt no pulse.



Tears blurred her vision as the weight of grief tumbled down on her.



She couldn’t let him die. Not like this.



Hope grabbed up a shard of crystal and sliced her wrist open. Blood splashed across his cheek before she managed to press the wound to his mouth.



“Don’t you dare die,” she warned him.



Blood leaked from the side of his mouth. He wasn’t swallowing it.



Hope stroked his throat, trying to make it work, trying to get her blood into him.



He jerked as if a current had been sent through his body. He pulled in a deep breath. His eyes opened and he grabbed her arm, holding it to his mouth.



He drank down her blood, gulping audibly. Hope rejoiced in the sound, knowing her blood had saved him.



Weakness descended on her, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to fight him. He could take whatever he needed so long as he lived.



Her body melted, but Logan caught her before she could fall. He gathered her against his hard body and kept her warm.



Hope let go and drifted down into sleep. She didn’t know if she’d wake again, but she hardly cared. If she died like this, she’d do so feeling good.



Krag felt the presence of the blooded woman flare into existence again. She was near Hacksaw and the Warden Krag had instructed him how to summon. Any Sanguinar foolish enough to risk daylight deserved to die.



Krag, however, was glad to know that the woman had survived. At least for now. There was no way to know if the Warden would find her and slay her, which made him impatient.



“You failed,” Krag shouted into the mind of his servant, who had run in fear at the sight of the Warden.



Hope was protected. He came for her.



The Sanguinar. Of course he did. The leech would want her blood for himself.



That simply could not stand. She and her powerful blood were Krag’s.



“Find a way to draw her out. Find a lever that will force her to leave the side of her protector.”



A lever?



The idiot human had done too many drugs and mangled his brain. “Family. Friends. Some mangy beast she lets pee on her rug. Someone or something you can use against her.”



Right. A lever. I know just the one to use.



It took every scrap of willpower built over the centuries for Logan to release Hope. Her blood spread through him, renewing his strength and waking his senses. He held her close, curling his body around hers while he waited for his light-headedness to ease.



He’d been only moments from death. Hope had saved him. Again.



Shards of the Warden glistened against the dirty pavement. None of them moved, proving the Solarc’s servant was truly dead.



Logan lifted Hope in his arms. Her limp body felt almost insubstantial. How could something so delicate carry such strength and selflessness?



His van was destroyed, but her home was not far. He took her there, shielding her from sight of the passersby on the street. He carried her upstairs to her room, stripped her dirty clothing from her limbs, wiped away all traces of her blood, and tucked her into her bed. The sight of her in only her bra and panties sent waves of need crashing through him. He should have been too weak to even consider the carnal delights she could offer, but when it came to Hope, Logan seemed to have the boundless ability to torture himself.



There was no fireplace, so he set the bloodied cloth in a metal trash can, put it on the fire escape, and lit a fire. Sure that there were no traces of blood around to draw any Synestryn to her, he fetched a cup of water and compelled her to drink.



Perhaps he should have taken her to a human hospital, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that, knowing how much she detested the idea. Besides, there was no way he would allow himself to be parted from her. Not now, so soon after nearly losing her.



Logan pulled the covers up to her chin to hide her lush body from sight. With that barrier in place, he allowed himself the pleasure of holding her, of knowing she was alive.



He held one hand over her heart, trying to ignore the swell of her breast so he could keep track of her pulse and breathing. Both seemed normal, which was impossible. He’d taken too much blood from her, and on the heels of the other times he’d fed from her, there was no way that what he’d done tonight shouldn’t have caused some damage.



He could find none.



Logan slid into her mind to make sure he hadn’t missed some sign of distress.



She was sleeping. Dreaming.



Her consciousness reached for him as if detecting his presence. It wrapped around him, pulling him into her. He didn’t fight it. If she wanted his company, it was the least he could do.



The idea that she did want his company—that he could somehow ease her—was a powerful feeling. It filled him with purpose and gave him hope that her sacrifice would not be a lasting one.



She let out a soft sigh of contentment, her body melting into his. Her mind shifted to a dream state, taking him along for the ride.



The chaotic swell of images made little sense, but then dreams rarely did. He glided along, skimming the surface but not allowing himself to be tugged in. As much as he’d enjoy sharing dreams with her, he had work to do tonight. Hope’s safety was foremost on that list, but there were other things that needed his attention. His devotion to Project Lullaby had to be absolute.



Hope’s mental images morphed until she was on a beach at high noon. Logan could feel the warmth of the sun and a cool breeze on their skin. The sound of waves blocked out all others. She lounged there on the sand in her cheery yellow bathing suit, the picture of contentment and womanly perfection.



She lifted a hand to block out the light and turned to look at him. “Join me?”



He wasn’t supposed to be participating, but he’d gone too far and allowed himself to slip deep inside her where her dreams resided.



He opened his mouth to refuse her invitation, but in the next moment, he was stripped of his clothing, lying next to her on a towel. He could almost feel what it would be like to soak up sunlight through her. It gave her strength, made her cells swell with power as if she was somehow feeding on the sun’s energy.



It was such an odd feeling, Logan’s mind nearly retreated from hers to figure out the puzzle. But he didn’t want to leave yet. He wanted to be right here with her, where things were not real and his actions had fewer consequences.



She turned to her side and her slim fingers settled against his bare chest. The heat of them made him suck in a shocked breath. He longed to feel more of her skin on his—to feel her run her hands over him as a lover might.



“You’re afraid of me,” she said.



“I’m afraid of what you make me feel. My duty—”



She covered his mouth with her hand. “Shh. We’re on vacation. There’s no duty here.”



Against his will, he kissed her fingers, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. It was warmer here than he remembered, scented with coconut, and completely intoxicating.



She shuddered and a wicked smile curved her mouth. “You’re not running from me now.”



He should. He knew he should, but what harm could come of indulging within her dreams? None of this was real. It was simply a complex string of chemical and electrical signals in her mind she was allowing him to witness—a sort of shared hallucination. One he knew could never become reality.



Hope leaned over him, blocking out the sun. Her eyes seemed to glow with a golden light amidst the shadows of her face. He could stare into them for hours and never become bored.



But she had other ideas. She leaned down and kissed him. It was a soft kiss. Tentative. Chaste.



Logan’s body did not translate it properly, and the animalistic side of him took it as a challenge. His blood heated and pounded through his veins. His heart sped and sweat broke out along his back.



He wanted more, and she was going to give it to him. Here, now, where no one would ever know.



Logan flipped her over, tucking her slim body beneath his. He liked her here, safe from harm and unable to escape. It appeased his predatory nature even as it fed it, making him want more.



Hope’s fingers slid into his hair and she tugged him to her. He let her have her way, kissing her open mouth to claim the space for his own.



Ravenous need that had nothing to do with blood swelled inside him. His cock throbbed against her belly, demanding entrance into the slick heat of her body. The rub of her swimsuit angered him, so he took control of the dream long enough to rid them both of their clothing.



Her hot, naked skin against his felt better than any he’d ever touched. Her nipples rubbed over his chest until she was arching into him for more. The smooth skin of her stomach, made slick by his need, stroked his erection, teasing it with a promise of more. She set his nerve endings alight, sending shivers of desire coursing through him.



“I want you,” she whispered, breaking their kiss. Her thighs opened, giving him room to settle between.



A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he tried to resist her invitation. It was too soon. He hadn’t loved her enough yet for her to be ready.



Her hips thrust up, trying to mate them together. She grabbed his hair and forced his mouth to her throat. “Here,” she said.



She was asking for his bite? The idea made his entire body clench in need. He’d never fed on a woman while he took her. The risk of losing control was too great.



But not here. Not in this dream where nothing was real.



Her fervent request couldn’t be right, and his immediate reaction was to seek out the truth. He dove deeper into her mind, searching for some sign that he’d misinterpreted.



All he found was an image of him through her eyes—one too beautiful to be real—and her writhing desire to be with him and feel him take her body and her blood.