Tempting Evil (Riley Jenson Guardian #3)(51)

Or maybe it wasn’t an echo we heard, because suddenly there was another one skidding to a stop beside the first one, this one slightly smaller.
Fuck, Quinn said. Chameleons.
Chameleons were a rare breed of nonhumans who could take on any background, and literally become part of that background. Charmingly, they were also flesh eaters. We’d come across a pack of them once before, and in the end, had only survived because Rhoan, Jack, and Kade had raced to the rescue.
There’d be no such rescue this time.
I pushed away from Quinn, ducked the night-dark paw the second creature flung my way, and backpedaled through the door. The room beyond at least felt bigger than the tunnel and would provide more fighting room. Which I needed, even if Quinn didn’t.
The ones we met at the breeding center didn’t smell this bad. I ducked another blow, then dived in close for a quick one-two punch to the creature’s gut. It felt like I was hitting iron. I danced out of the way of the creature’s swipe and watched it warily. This one didn’t seem as fast as the first, but that didn’t mean it was slow. Just that I had more of a chance against it.
No, these ones rot. Quinn was moving so fast he appeared little more than a blurring rush of flame. It means they are very old.
As old as these tunnels?
Older.
I ducked another blow but missed the follow-up. It hit with the force of a hammer, flinging me off my feet and deep into the darkness of the room.
I grunted as my back hit the floor beyond, and couldn’t stop myself sliding along the slick tiles. Not until I hit something hard and metallic, anyway. Pain slithered up my spine, but the rush of air suggested I had more than a bruise to worry about. I scrambled upright and quickly felt behind me. A table. A metal table. No chance of breaking off a leg and using it as a stake, unfortunately. Not that I knew if a stake killed these things, but it would have been worth the try. That table also meant we’d reached the lab areas—but obviously a disused section, because I couldn’t imagine anyone willingly working in the presence of cannibals.The creature lunged at me again. I spun and lashed out with a heel, my kick landing high and hard. It staggered back several steps, but managed to swipe one big paw across my shin. Needle-sharp nails tore into flesh and blood welled, the sweet scent overriding the foulness of the creatures. Even as I cursed, the darkness stirred.
There were more of them hiding here.
Great. Just fucking great.
I caught my balance and backed away again. Away from the creature, away from the stirring shadows. Luckily, the room was rectangular, leaving plenty of retreat room before I got into trouble.
Quinn, there’s something else in this room.
I know. He was still near the entrance, but the creature he fought seemed to be slipping into death, the deep red of its life force barely visible, almost entirely swamped by night.
They don’t feel as big, but just as nasty.
They are young.
Young?
As in, a nest of young.
Oh shit. No wonder mama and papa were so pissed. They were determined to protect their kits, not the labs. We need to get out of here before those youngsters decide to help out.
It would be a better idea than fighting them all right now.
I continued to retreat, watching the creature as I groped behind me in an effort to find each table before I ran into it. Though I couldn’t see an exit through the blackness, logic said there had to be one. I had an odd feeling that if we got out of the lab, the creatures might leave us alone.
Which, considering these creatures were flesh eaters, didn’t exactly make a whole lot of sense. I mean, surely it wasn’t an everyday occurrence that dinner walked so willingly into their lair?
My fingers touched the cold surface of another table. As I edged around it, the creature leapt. Once again I spun and kicked, spraying blood through the air in the process. Claws skittered against the tiles, drawing closer. The young were drawn by the scent of blood more than the need to help their parents.
My blow caught the creature in the gut, the force of it reverberating up my leg. It sent the creature crashing into another table and had to have left a huge dent in the surface. It shook its head and rose to its feet, then launched itself through the air again. I quickly sidestepped. The creature tried to twist around, but its claws found no purchase against the tiled surface and it slid right on by. Giving me the chance I needed to look quickly around.
The young were muted flecks of red huddled in the far left corner of the room. Beyond them was what appeared to be a large fissure in the concrete walls. The exit stood to my right and, thankfully, didn’t appear print- or key-coded. As the creature picked itself up and twisted around, I ran like hell for the door and hauled it open.
Quinn, I found the exit. Get your butt over here. 
He didn’t answer, but I’d barely taken a breath when his hand hit my shoulder, sending me flying as he slammed the door shut behind us. There was a thump on the other side, as if a body had hit it. Hard. But the handle didn’t slide downward. Maybe creatures who held no real substance couldn’t open doors—though they sure as hell could cause real enough damage to flesh.
Claws might be good against flesh, concrete, and rock, but they are of little use against steel. His hand wrapped warmly against my upper arm. Your leg bleeds profusely.
It’s not deep, and we can’t afford any more delays. The words were absent as I climbed to my feet and looked around. We were in a corridor lined with doors. Given there were no aromas other than age riding the air, it was pretty safe to guess they were empty. At the end of a corridor was another containment door, but this wasn’t like the others we’d passed so far. It was more the type seen in movies about ships and subs. It had a wheel lock in the center that had to be turned to open or close. As far as I knew, doors like those had been phased out decades ago, which lent weight to Quinn’s earlier statement that this area was far older than the cartel’s usage of it.
I am a vampire. Though Quinn’s mind-voice was soft, it held a note of censure. I blinked, taking a moment to realize he was answering my earlier statement. I control my base needs, but I am not made of steel, and I cannot forever ignore such a delicious odor.
Call me a dolt, but I’d actually forgotten the blood would call him. I shifted shape immediately, then motioned him forward. And here I was thinking you only took blood while making love.
For blood as sweetly addictive as yours, I would make an exception. His gaze briefly met mine. I have done so in the past, remember.
Images of him licking the wound on my wrist came to mind, and desire skittered across my skin. Who’d have thought the touch of a vampire’s tongue on a nonintimate place such as a wrist had the power to make a woman orgasm like that?
Not me. And it was an experience I wouldn’t mind repeating—just not here, not now.
No. He grasped the wheel and spun it. There was a soft click and the door opened, smooth as butter. But later, most certainly.
You’re awfully certain there is going to be a “later.”
If there’s one thing I know about werewolves, it’s that they are easily addicted to good sex. The fact of the matter is, I give good sex.
I gave a mental snort. And a whole lot of arrogance.
After over a thousand years of refining my technique, I have a right to the arrogance.
It’s just a shame that a thousand years of living didn’t also teach you tolerance of other races’ beliefs and practices.
Amusement ran through my mind, as warm as a summer breeze and just as enticing. I left the door wide open for that gibe.
Yeah, he had. So why was he amused rather than annoyed? That didn’t run with what I’d seen of him so far—though, I guess I hadn’t seen a whole lot of the real Quinn. Just the “gotta avenge my friend at all costs” Quinn.
And that one was hard enough to resist. I’d be putty in his hands if he actually turned on the charm for a change.
Somehow, I’m doubting that.
His voice was wry and I grinned as I edged around the corner. More darkness, corridors, and labs. Only this time, the air was warm, and heavily layered with scents that were either human, organic, or chemical in origin. And accompanying the scents, voices—men and women chatting softly. There appeared to be no concern that the darkness was anything more than a simple blackout, which was good. It meant they wouldn’t be as watchful as they should be.
A soft noise caught my attention. I looked at the left-hand corridor, zoning out the drone of conversation and concentrating on the noise coming only from that corridor. Again I heard it, clearer this time—the whimper of a child.Dia’s kid. Had to be.
I padded into the darkness, my bare feet making little noise on the cold white tiles.
How many hearts beat in the lab directly in front?
He paused, then said, Three, not including the child.
Can you hold the adults, make them see nothing, while I rescue the kid?
Doing so as I speak. Amusement filled his voice as he added, Not that I think they’d be taking much notice of anything else but each other at the moment anyway.
I opened the lab door and saw what he meant. The three adults—two men and one female—had obviously decided to put the darkness to good use, because they had a little ménage à trois happening. The expression on the woman’s face said she was enjoying every minute, and why wouldn’t she? Having every need attended to so thoroughly by several willing men was bliss—though for me, personally, the whole bum entry thing just didn’t work.