Blood Hunt (Sentinel Wars Book 5) Page 3

  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 w
ent 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.

  And he liked it.

  That alone was warning enough for Logan to back away. He couldn’t become personally entangled in the life of a human woman. Their roles were set. Immovable.

  She would be paired with a human male who would make her happy—one who would complement the power flowing in her veins, rather than dilute it. They’d bring children into the world who could save Logan’s race from starvation. She was a source of power. Food. It was as simple as that.

  It wasn’t nearly enough.

  Logan fought the urge to slip back into the emergency room to check on her. The less time he spent with her, the better. He couldn’t grow any more attached than he already was. It was time to hand her off to Tynan and get back to the mystery that had brought him here.

  He still had yet to find the address that had been written in blood on his bathroom mirror a few days ago, along with the message You have not been forgotten. You are not alone.

  Between the women and children who’d been rescued from the Synestryn, and the deaths of Angus and Gilda, Dabyr had been in an uproar. His presence there had been necessary to help people stay calm and positive. Grief and fear were enemies Project Lullaby could scarcely afford.

  Tonight had been his first chance to seek out the address. He’d gotten close, but the frantic call for help from Steve had distracted him. And then the woman had distracted him even more.

  It was time for Logan to get back to the job at hand. He needed to find the reason for the mysterious message on his mirror and make sure it posed no threat to his race.

  With any luck at all, he’d find a man with the same vibrant power in his blood that Logan’s lovely rescuer possessed. Tynan would pair her up and in a few years, her children would help save his people.

  A pang of longing stabbed at him as he left the hospital and went back out into the cold. There were so many things he wanted that could never be. The woman who’d saved him tonight had served only to remind him of the things he could never have.

  As he dialed Tynan’s cell phone, he realized that he didn’t even know her name.

  And it was best that way.

  Chapter 3

  The flare of power that Krag had felt for a brief instant was gone now. All that was left was a faint ghost of energy fading as the seconds passed. Usually when he felt the presence of a blooded human, it was a gradual thing that grew as they came closer to him.

  But not tonight. That flash of power had roared into his senses as if it had been plunked down out of nowhere. And it had vanished just as quickly.

  The flash had come from downtown, several miles away. Perhaps a plane had landed and taken off with a blooded passenger aboard. If so, the human was already gone and out of his reach. Time to move on. Unless it happened again.

  Krag settled back in his throne, surveying his worshippers. Both human and Synestryn alike, they gathered around him, eager to do his bidding.

  Except for one.

  “Bring her out,” he ordered, his voice booming off the cement walls of his home.

  This defunct manufacturing facility had been easy to convert into a fortress. What few windows there were high in the walls had been blacked out with paint, keeping out the deadly light of the sun. The main space was large, with several smaller rooms that had once been offices. Krag had those converted into his sleeping quarters, leaving room for his women on the floor surrounding his bed.

  It was truly too bad that one of those women had defied him so openly. She was pretty. Young. Full of life, her blood more powerful than most.

  But like a cancer, she had to be cut out before she could spread her rebellion to the others.

  Two burly human men dragged her before him. Her clothing was torn and dirty. Her dyed hair hung in wild tangles around her face. The glaring pink of her shoes seemed to mock him, declaring to all that she held no respect for his position.

  Her hands were bound in front of her. No doubt a consequence of the angry red claw marks she’d left on one of the men’s cheeks. She was gagged, but there were no tears in her eyes as he would have hoped. No remorse. Only the glowing anger of her rebellious nature and promised retribution.

  He was going to enjoy breaking her.

  “Remove the gag,” he ordered.

  The men hastened to obey. As soon as the dirty fabric cleared her mouth, she spat on the ground at Krag’s feet.

  “Kneel.”

  Her guards shoved her down so hard he could hear her bones hit the concrete.

  Krag smiled. “Have you considered my offer?”

  “I’d rather fuck a rotting pig corpse than let you touch me.”

  Anger flared for an instant before he controlled it. He smoothed his features to regal stillness. “Throw her down below. I’m certain there is at least one rotting pig down there for her amusement.”

  She screamed, but it wasn’t a cry of fear. Not this woman. Her scream was of feral outrage. Of angry defiance.

  The men picked her up by her arms and hauled her out of his sight. The flooded section below housed some of the less advanced members of his race. They would make quick work of her. And when they were done, he’d mount her skull on the wall as a reminder to the others not to question his authority.

  Before her screams faded, Krag beckoned one of the obedient women forward. She shivered in ecstasy at being chosen, as was proper, before crawling to his feet.

  He patted his lap, inviting her to jump up like a pampered pet. As soon as he had her settled there, her naked body trembling, he jerked her head to the side and bit deep.

  Her blood was weak, but once he’d taken it all, he felt better. Stronger.

  Krag shoved her corpse to the floor, then motioned for her to be taken away. Let the lesser Synestryn feast on her flesh and bones. He had no more use for her.

  Hope opened her eyes, already knowing that Logan was gone. She couldn’t feel his presence or that consuming pleasure he’d given her.

  Fear wove through her for a moment, but she wasn’t sure if it was fear of the man, or fear caused by the fact she knew he was gone.

  A plump, dark-haired nurse hovered over Hope. She c
ouldn’t remember the woman, but the way she was looking at Hope with tears in her eyes made her wonder if she shouldn’t.

  “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

  Hope blinked a few times to make sure that blurry vision wasn’t making her see concern that wasn’t real. “Do I know you?”

  “I’m Barb,” she said, her tone of expectation telling Hope she should know the woman.

  Was her memory getting worse? Was she losing more chunks of time? Hope pushed herself up in a panic and looked around, hoping it would clear her head.

  She was surrounded by a striped curtain. Beyond that curtain, she could hear voices and the low moans of a man in pain. Disinfectant laced the stale air. A machine beeped insistently in the background. An IV bag hung above her, feeding fluids into the back of her hand.

  A hospital. That’s where she was.

  Hope didn’t know how she got here. The last thing she remembered was Logan. He’d grabbed her and . . . bitten her neck.

  Her hand flew to the spot, feeling only smooth, whole skin.

  “What is it, honey?” asked Barb.

  “Do you see anything? Any marks on my neck?”

  Barb leaned forward and brushed Hope’s hair away. “It’s a little red. Does it hurt?”

  “No.” Her skin tingled, and there was a throbbing warmth, but that was all. “Who brought me in?”

  Barb frowned as if trying to remember. “A man. Tall. Dark hair. Do you know him?”

  That description could be almost anyone. Or it could have been Logan. Either way the answer was the same. “No.”

  “The doctor will be in to see you soon. We couldn’t find any injuries. Do you know what happened?”

  Hope shook her head. What she thought had happened couldn’t have. It wasn’t possible. Either the stranger had bitten her and left marks, or he hadn’t bitten her at all. Those were the only options.

  Weren’t they?

  A wave of dizziness slid over her, and she shut her eyes to let it pass.

  The smells of the hospital assaulted her nose, dragging from her memories of the last time she’d been here—the night Sister Olive had found her in the empty Tyler building and brought her here, insisting she get checked out. Hope had no injuries then, either. Nothing that explained her amnesia. She hadn’t known her name or how old she was. Hope still didn’t know. No one had claimed her. The only thing that had been in her possession was a wooden amulet clutched in her fist. The name Hope Serrien was burned into it.