Blood Hunt

He cupped her chin and turned her head until she was looking at him. He needed her to see the truth in his eyes. “This is not your fault.”



“It is. I can feel it.”



“No. The choices these monsters make are theirs alone.”



“How do you know? For all we know, I worked with them. Hell, maybe I even ran the whole damn group.”



“It’s simply not possible. I would have felt their taint upon you, tasted it in your blood. All I taste in you is purity and light. You’re a good person, Hope. Don’t allow yourself to think otherwise.”



“You’re sweet to say it. I really do want to believe you.”



“Then do. I swear I’m being honest.”



She gave a small nod, though he wasn’t sure if she was relenting or simply moving on. “I may not have worked for them, but I’m still the cause of all of this. Somehow. And there’s something else.”



“What?”



“I think I might have allowed someone to take my memories. I might have even done it to myself.”



Logan tried not to let any of his shock show through. He slid his hand down her arm until he was holding her chilly fingers within his own to warm them. “What makes you think that?”



“I don’t know. It just feels . . . right. I don’t think my memory loss was due to trauma. I think it was done on purpose.”



That changed everything. If someone had done this to her, there had to be a reason. And the list of reasons why someone would steal another’s memory wasn’t very long. Either they were protecting her or they were protecting themselves.



Logan was going to find out which one, because if it was the latter, things were much more desperate than even he had thought.



He leaned forward and his fingers settled lightly at her temple. Her skin was so soft and warm, he forgot why he was touching her for a brief moment. He could spend all night touching her, learning the different textures of her skin and the sounds she made as he stroked each one.



No. That was not for him—not outside of dreams. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that. Down that path lay starvation.



“Close your eyes, Hope. I want you to relax and let me inside.”



Chapter 23



Tori tensed as the footsteps grew louder. She dragged herself out from under the bed and scurried under the covers to pretend she’d been there all along.



People looked at her funny when she was under the bed, like she didn’t belong there. It made them come back with more people to help her—something she wanted to avoid. She didn’t need people. All she needed was a plan. A good plan. One that would earn her the sight of Zillah’s blood draining from his body.



Nika walked in with her grumpy boyfriend only a few steps behind her. Tori didn’t like having them visit. She owed them her life for rescuing her, but she wished they’d just leave her alone.



“We need to talk,” said Nika as she sat on the edge of the bed.



Tori had grown to hate that word. Every time someone said they wanted to talk, it meant they wanted her to do something she didn’t want.



“What?” she asked, hoping to get this over with.



“Tynan thought of something we can do to help you.” She pulled in a deep breath. Madoc laid his giant hand on her shoulder, making Tori flinch. Even the thought of a man touching her like that made her want to puke.



Tori shifted away from the pair, moving to the edge of the bed.



“He says that he can put you to sleep while he heals you. That way, you won’t have to hurt. You can go to sleep and when you wake up, you’ll be all better.”



Liar! screamed a voice in her head. She had to fight back the urge to scream it at her sister.



“No. I don’t want to sleep.” Zillah crawled into her dreams when she slept. She could feel his slimy touch on her thoughts, forcing her to remember the things he’d done to her. She didn’t want to remember, and if she was forced to sleep, she’d be trapped there with him with no way to escape.



She’d spent years as his prisoner. He wasn’t stealing another second of her life.



“But you’re hurting so much,” said Nika.



Anger swirled deep inside her, making her muscles clench against the need for violence. Her heart was pounding hard, driving infected blood through her body, readying it for action. She knotted her fingers together to keep from lashing out at her sister. “I don’t need anyone telling me how much I hurt. I know.”



“And so do I. We’re linked, no matter how much you fight to keep me out.”



Tori wrapped her arms around her knees. “You don’t belong in my head. I wish you’d quit trying to put your nose in my business.”



“I can’t help it. You’re my sister. I have to find a way to help you.”



“Then leave me alone. Quit coming here. Quit shoving your thoughts in mine. Just go away.”



Nika rocked back as if Tori had hit her. It made Tori feel bad, but only for a second. Then all she felt was anger. The constant, pulsing anger she’d grown so used to. It was always with her, growing every day. One day, she’d kill Zillah and it would all go away, but until then, she needed that anger to keep her going—to help her fight the pain of the poisonous blood flowing through her veins.



“I won’t leave you,” said Nika. “I promised you that years ago, the night you were stolen. I meant it then and I still mean it now. You can’t make me go away.”



She could. She’d learned lots of ways to kill in the years she’d spent with the Synestryn. And when the rage inside her got bad enough, all she wanted was to lash out at whoever was nearby. She didn’t care who it was or what happened to them. Andra knew it. So did Madoc. That was why they never let Nika come in here alone.



Tori looked at Madoc, fighting down that rage. She remembered the gift he’d given her while she was still imprisoned—the gift of sunshine. Because of that gift, she offered him one now. “I don’t want to see her again. If you love her, don’t let her come back here.”



Hope was as beautiful inside as she was out. Being inside her mind was like Logan imagined bathing in sunshine would be. Warm. Soft. Gentle. He could live here forever and never grow bored.



He slid along her thoughts with ease, but it was different from being inside a human. The connection he felt to her was stronger and took less effort to sustain. There were no convoluted paths of logic he had to overcome, or flittering distractions that led him in the wrong direction. With Hope, sharing the same mental space was easy.



Perhaps this was what it felt like when mated Theronai connected.



Before that thought could bloom into something dangerous, Logan pushed forward, heading right to where her amnesia began.



“Show me this soft spot,” he whispered to her, though whether his mouth moved, he wasn’t sure.



Hope wrapped around his consciousness to guide him, and the instant she did, everything else ceased to exist. He was surrounded by light and joy, bathed in it. Time no longer mattered. His body could have shriveled and died and he would not have mourned the loss. This place or feeling—whatever it was—was magic, pure, perfect magic.



“Did you feel that?” she asked him. Her voice swept through him, shimmering along his nerve endings as it passed.



“Yes,” was all he could manage.



“What is it?”



“I don’t know. I’ve never felt it before with anyone.”



“Stay close. It could be some kind of trick, like a booby trap.”



Confusion flittered across him for a brief second. “What makes you say that?”



“Because nothing that feels that good can be real. It must be some kind of trick.”



Logan questioned her logic, but kept it to himself. “I’ll be careful. Show me.”



Hope guided him along her thoughts, taking him with her on the chain of logic that had led her to the soft spot.



There. He sensed what she’d felt earlier—a kind of dent in an otherwise pristine plane of do-not-pass.



“This wasn’t there before,” he said.



“It happened when I thought about how I might have allowed someone to take my memories. I can’t imagine ever letting that happen, but this seems to be proof that I might have.”



Logan prodded the spot and instantly felt a stab of pain vibrate through Hope. He pulled back, fighting against an instant flare of anger at himself. “Are you hurt?”



He was still connected to her mind, but his eyes opened so he could scan her body as well. She’d pulled her knees up as if someone had punched her in the stomach.



“That’s just a tender spot, I guess.”



“I won’t touch it again.”



“No. I want you to. I want you to see if this is a way into my memories.”



The idea of causing her more pain repulsed him. She must have felt it, because in the next instant, she was stroking over his consciousness as if to comfort him.



“Please, Logan. I don’t care if it hurts. I need to know what I did to cause these people harm.”



“You did nothing.”



“You don’t know that. Maybe I didn’t do it on purpose. Maybe this is all about someone I know who’s holding a grudge—someone I can’t remember.”



She could be right. If she recognized Krag, it could create another soft spot, or perhaps break through the one she’d found.



He took the image from Leonard’s mind—the one of the Synestryn lord with scaly, hairless skin and lips that did not cover his pointed teeth—and showed it to Hope.



She recoiled in revulsion, but there was no flash of recognition he could sense. “Have you seen him before?”



“No. What is he?”



“Synestryn. He’s the beast who ordered Leonard to hurt you, to abduct Jodi.”



He felt her take the image deeper, dragging it inside her mind where she turned it over and ran it along the barrier to her past. There was no reaction, no dent formed.



Her sense of defeat hit him hard. His immediate reaction was to wipe it away—to blunt the emotion artificially, but he doubted she’d appreciate his help. Instead, he wrapped himself around her and offered her what reassurance he could.



“We’ll find a way to get back what you’ve lost. I promise.” The weight that settled over him as he gave his vow wasn’t heavy. It was comforting. Given freely, without any thought of repayment, it reminded him of the man he used to be—the one he wished he could be again.



That man would have been good enough for a woman like Hope.



“I like the man you are now,” she told him, her words fervent and heartfelt. “The fact that you wish you could do more counts for a lot.”



“Not nearly enough. My weakness is shameful.”



He felt her hand on his skin and pulled back into his body enough to revel in her touch. Until now, he hadn’t realized he’d draped his body over hers at some point in his effort to comfort her. His arms were wrapped around her tightly, and her legs were hanging from the sides of the lounge chair to allow room for his body between her thighs.



Instantly, his cock swelled and hardened, painful in its haste to be ready for her. Pressed against her belly like this, there was no way to mask her effect on him—no way to hide his desire for her.