Blood Hunt

Logan tensed beside her and took a protective step closer, scanning their surroundings.



“What?” she asked.



“I’m so sorry, Hope,” said Nicholas. “The shelter and your studio. They’re both on fire.”



Hope stared in horror at the TV screen. One side showed an image of her studio. Firefighters blasted it with thick jets of water, but it seemed to be doing little good. On the other side of the screen was the homeless shelter where a reporter stood out front.



The reporter’s words slid past her, not sinking in. All she saw were the flames rising up in the background as the fire crews worked to control the blaze. Huge plumes of black smoke billowed from the barred windows.



She scanned the surrounding crowd as the camera panned across the scene. She searched for a glimpse of Sister Olive or any of the regulars who visited. There was a growing group of people outside gawking, but she recognized none of them.



Fear weighed down on her, making it hard to breathe.



Logan’s arm slid around her shoulders. She huddled against his side, waiting for someone to tell her this was all a mistake. “Where are the people who were inside?”



Nicholas sent Logan a meaningful look—one she didn’t understand.



“What?” she asked.



Sympathy filled Nicholas’s gaze. “They don’t know about your studio, but the reporter said the fire at the shelter was obviously arson. The doors were barricaded from the outside.”



The significance of what he said sank in, freezing Hope from the inside out.



It was cold tonight. The shelter would have been full. All those people had been trapped inside. Along with Sister Olive.



Grief choked her. Her knees gave out. Logan’s strong arm held her up, supporting her.



She struggled to regain her balance. She needed to be strong right now and figure out what had happened. She needed to go back and find out how many people had escaped—broken the bars on the windows. Surely some of them had found a way out.



Maybe even Sister Olive.



“I need to leave,” she announced, her voice sounding weak and hollow.



“You can’t,” said Logan. “That fire was set purposefully. We know a powerful Synestryn wants you. And while I tried to plant false memories in that Dorjan’s head, it may have failed. They attacked your home as well as the shelter. I think it’s more than possible that fire was meant to either kill you or force you to come out of hiding.”



His words took longer than normal to sink in. “You’re saying you won’t take me back?”



“No. I won’t.”



“Neither will I,” said Nicholas. “I’m sorry for your loss, but our priority now has to be your safety.”



Hope pulled away from Logan’s hold and sank to the couch. Her knees were still weak. Her body was shaking. Ice coated her insides, numbing her from the pain she knew would hit at any moment.



She had to hold it together long enough to find out if Sister Olive was still alive. The woman had been like a mother to her. Hope couldn’t simply sit around and wait to find out if she was still alive.



What if she was injured? What if she needed Hope at her side, praying for her recovery?



Hope reached for her cell phone, before she remembered it was gone. She needed to call for a cab, but she didn’t even know where she was.



Flashing lights, smoke, and flames filled the TV screen. A bright red banner scrolled across the bottom, mocking her inability to move forward as it did. She didn’t know what to do next.



Sister Olive may be dead.



Grief crashed into her, making her sway. A low sound of mourning filled her ears. Hot tears slid down her cold cheeks, stinging as they passed.



Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Her whole world had gone up in flames and now she had nothing. No family. No home. No job. Everything had been stripped from her, laying her bare.



The air was too thin. She couldn’t seem to get enough of it to fill her lungs. Her chest burned and she held herself as she rocked. The ice inside her had melted, and now she felt everything. All the fear and pain and grief. It slammed down on top of her, over and over, beating the life from her body.



Her mind struggled to make sense of things, to find some course of action that would help. But nothing came to her. There was nothing she could do to fix this. Her life was gone.



Again.



For the second time in less than thirty years, everything had been taken from her. She couldn’t go through it again. She couldn’t start from scratch and rebuild her life. She wasn’t that strong.



If that Synestryn had meant to kill her in that fire, he’d succeeded, because Hope was certain she wasn’t going to survive. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to try.



Hope’s anguish assaulted Logan’s senses. He could hear her heart race and her breath wheezing in and out of her lungs. The heavy scent of mourning flooded his nose, and the sight of her tears made something dark and violent writhe in his chest.



He had to do something.



Logan turned to Nicholas. “Do not try to stop me,” he told the Theronai.



“What are you going to do?”



“Ease her pain.”



“Why would I stop that?”



Logan didn’t answer. Instead he gathered her trembling body in his arms and carried her back to one of the bedrooms. She didn’t fight him. She didn’t even seem to acknowledge his existence.



Nicholas was right on his heels. “Whatever you’re going to do, I’m going to watch.”



“No, you’re not.”



“The hell I’m not. She’s my responsibility.”



Logan whirled around, snarling at Nicholas. He tried to keep his voice quiet, but he managed only to sound more feral. “Hope is mine.”



Nicholas stopped in his tracks, looking stunned. “I’ve never seen you act like this before. What’s gotten into you?”



“A woman I care for is in pain.”



A silent sob shook Hope’s body, making Logan wish she’d turn to him for comfort.



“You care for her? Since when do you care about anyone but yourself?”



Logan restrained his anger long enough to lay Hope down on the bed. She curled into a ball, hugging herself. Every moment Nicholas delayed him was another moment of suffering for Hope.



That was simply unacceptable.



He gathered his power and grabbed Nicholas by the throat. He slammed the beefy man into the door frame. “I care not what your opinion of me is. Hope is the one who matters here. She’s in pain. I intend to ease her suffering. Back. The. Hell. Off.”



Logan let go of Nicholas. The man’s neck was red, but he didn’t even rub away the sting. Instead, he filled the doorway, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “I’m not leaving you alone with her when you’re like this. Not unless you kill me.”



Which he knew Logan would not do. His blood was far too valuable, as was his sword arm.



Logan was going to have to ease Hope with an audience, which was awkward, but necessary. He didn’t want to waste even one more second on Nicholas.



Hope was facing away from them. Quiet sobs of pain shook her shoulders.



Logan sat next to her, shoving all emotion from his mind in preparation for what he was going to do. After several deep breaths, he laid his hand on her forehead and forced his blood to give up its stores of power.



He sought out her grief and gathered it up. It swarmed about him, stinging like a hundred wasps. The pain grew the longer he controlled the emotion, but he needed to accumulate all he could. He wouldn’t have the will to do this twice.



Once he controlled her pain, he shoved it into himself, holding his breath as her emotions became his own.



A sense of loss so deep it would never heal split him open. His soul wept boiling tears of mourning that burned until he was sure the pain would kill him. Every empty part of him was filled with grief and loneliness.



Intellectually, he knew that these emotions were not his, but that made them no less real. Hope felt things deeply. More so than any other human he’d ever known. Her sorrow invaded every part of her until her very cells were drowning in it.



Logan didn’t know how she’d survived feeling like this, even for a moment. He carried only a portion of her anguish and it was enough to drive him mad.



Normally, he would have adapted to the feelings, absorbed them, and transformed them into chemical and electrical signals that would fade in moments. But this was too much. He couldn’t process it all. He didn’t know how she could stand it.



He heard Nicholas’s concerned voice, but couldn’t make out the words. Not that they’d matter. Nothing seemed to matter now except Hope.



Logan gathered her into his arms and held on tight. Her warmth sank into him, anchoring him in place.



He needed just a little more time to fight off these feelings. To let them dissipate. And then, when they had, he’d go back to gather up more, despite the pain it caused him.



He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her to suffer alone.



Chapter 25



Nicholas didn’t like this situation. He didn’t know what Logan was doing to the woman, but whatever it was, it was costing him dearly. The Sanguinar’s skin had gone so pale it was nearly translucent. His body shook, and Nicholas could see Logan’s flesh wasting away before his eyes. Muscles that had been there only moments ago were shrinking and fading, leaving the other man’s clothing hanging on his frame.



He went to Logan’s side and put his hand on his bony shoulder. “You need to stop.”



Logan didn’t seem to hear him. His grip on Hope was tight, his body curled around her almost possessively.



Or maybe not almost. The Sanguinar had claimed her. Backing up that claim was a different story entirely, and modern women tended to be a bit prickly about such things. Their independent streaks were wide and tender. Treading on one was risky.



Not that Nicholas wouldn’t have done the same thing if he’d thought Hope could save him. He would have. He would have done anything in his power to hold on to her. Just the way Logan was doing.



He heard the door to the Gerai house open. He put his hand on his sword and went to see who was there.



Tynan shut the front door behind him, gathering his coat about his lean body to ward off the chill. The Sanguinar was strikingly perfect in his appearance, with the kind of good looks that made women stare in lust-filled awe. Like all the Sanguinar, he had pale skin and eyes that had the ability to shed light when their emotions ran hot or they were using their magical mojo.



A Sanguinar with glowing eyes was a dangerous beast. Of course, even without the glowing eyes, Logan and Tynan’s kind were not to be trusted. Unless it was to trust that they would do whatever benefitted them.



Which made Nicholas wonder what Logan stood to gain by easing Hope’s pain. Perhaps her cooperation?



“What are you doing here?” asked Nicholas.



“I’m looking for Logan. Where is he?”



“In the bedroom. With a woman.”



Only a faint flicker of surprise lifted Tynan’s brow before he controlled his reaction and his face once again became impassive. “I see. Perhaps I shouldn’t disturb them then.”



“Actually, you probably should. I don’t know what he’s doing, but it doesn’t seem to be too healthy for him.”