But I knew they were behind me. I could smell the thick scent of sulfur getting ever closer. It seemed the blackness wasn't quite the hindrance to them that it was to me, and sweat broke out across my brow as I realized that I wasn't going to get out of this before they were on me.
Then a hand came out of nowhere, wrapped itself around my arm, and hauled me none too gently upward.s I landed on a metal walkway that groaned under my weight, the hand released me. I spun around, ready to fight, not sure whether I'd been rescued or drawn into deeper danger.
The raw scent of wolf swirled around me, rich with a musk that was all man and totally delicious.
It was also a scent I recognized, even if I'd only smelled it once, and then only briefly.
Kye—the man who'd played bodyguard to Patrin, the son of our pack's alpha, Blake, and one mean bastard.
I couldn't see him in the gluey blackness, but I really didn't need to. Not given how close he was. Not when the heat of his body rolled across mine, sending warm prickles of desire skating across my skin.
Not a good reaction. Not when the moon bloomed near fullness, and especially not when we were in such a dangerous situation. Danger is an aphrodisiac to a wolf, and my hormones didn't need that sort of prompting right now.
I tried to step back and put some distance between us, but his hand grabbed mine again, pulling me closer, until the heat of him was pressed against me and all I could smell was the tangy aroma of sweat and man and desire.
God, he smelled good.
Don't speak, he said quickly. The witch can hear through the black shield.
Shock rolled through me, battering away the desire. How the fuck could his thoughts breach my shields so easily?
My shields were vampire tight—I knew, because I'd tested them recently against Quinn and Jack, both of whom were extremely powerful telepaths. If they couldn't breach my shields, then this man certainly shouldn't be able to. Hell, according to his records—which we'd checked after our brief run-in when he'd been Patrin's watchdog—neither he nor any of his pack had ever shown any evidence of psychic skills.
Yet here he was, succeeding in doing the one thing two powerful vampires could not. Come to think of it, he'd been extraordinarily fast that day I'd cornered him and Patrin in my apartment. That might not have been a psychic skill, as such, but it proved there was something going on with this man. Something out of the ordinary for someone who supposedly was just another werewolf.
Your records say you're not telepathic, I said, mind voice tart. So how the fuck are you conversing with me that way ?
Records often don't contain all the facts. His words ran with warmth, and it spun through my body like a summer storm, heating and electrifying. And I'm not telepathic.
So, this conversation we re having is just a figment of my imagination?
His amusement danced through my thoughts, and my hormones tripped along to its tune. My heart was beating so fast I swear it was about to go into a meltdown, and I wasn't entirely sure whether it was desire for the man who was holding me altogether too close, or fear of him.
An odd reaction given some of the things I'd faced over the last few years.
Like the zombie, the witch, and those yellow-eyed dogs are figments? he said, mind voice wry. I think, you know better than that.
Those dogs are hellhounds, and unless you have some holy water on you, we don't stand much of a chance against them.
I have no intention of fighting them. That's why I'm up here and they're down there.
So why else are you up here, exactly? And why the hell did the press of his body against mine have to feel so good?
This closeness had to stop, otherwise I might not be able to.
I stepped back, breaking his grip on my arm and forcing some distance between us. His scent clung to my skin and clothes, teasing my nostrils and sending my pulse rate into another merry dance. But with the heat of his body no longer pressed so invitingly against me, it felt like I could breathe again. Concentrate again.
I'm tracking a killer, he said. What are you doing here?
Same. Only I'm legal.
His smile felt like sunshine through rain. All warm and sparkly as it spun through my thoughts.
Bounty hunters are legal.
Not in this state, buddy boy. I paused. Why are you hunting the zombie?
Who said I was hunting the zombie?
The metal platform swayed a little as he moved and I grabbed sideways, wrapping a hand around the railing to steady myself. A stupid reaction really, given I could now achieve seagull form and fly with some semblance of proficiency, but it seemed my stupid fear of heights just wouldn't entirely go away.
The dogs are coming back, he added.
I looked down. There was nothing but an inky blackness to be seen, and the only thing I could feel—and smell—was him.
How the fuck can you see or sense anything in this muck?
I can't see them. I can feel them.
How?
He hesitated. It's a talent.
Another talent you supposedly don't have?
Yeah.
The scent of this wolf might be divine, but his continued avoidance of any real information was getting damned annoying.
Tell me why you're here, before I'm tempted to beat the information out of you.
You wouldn't. You're not the type.
You have no idea what type I am, Kye.
Oh, I think I do. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, knew without even seeing his face that his expression would be thoughtful. Intent. Like a soldier sighting an opponent and weighing his options. I saw you in action with Patrin, remember. Given everything he'd done to you and your brother, you would have been well within your rights to kill him. And yet, you let him live. Scared the shit out of him, true, but left him alive. That shows compassion—and perhaps more than a touch of foolishness.
How do you know of our history with Patrin? How did he know about my brother? It certainly wasn't something I spread around—and Patrin surely wouldn't. Not after we'd so thoroughly busted his ass.
But how else would Kye have found out? He might be able to read my surface thoughts with ease, but he'd gotten no further than that.
I was sure of that much.
How else would I know? Patrin boasted to me about it, before you and Rhoan showed him just how foolish such attempts would be now.
Patrin's a bastard. And how dare he tell strangers that Rhoan and I were related! In our line of business, that could get dangerous—and giving that sort of information to a man who was little more than a gun for hire was doubly so. But why would he have told you about us? It had nothing to do with your stint as bodyguard.
Well, conversations about the weather got boring, he said, mind voice dry. Your pack, mate is not the most intelligent conversationalist around, let me tell you.
“What the fuck?” The voice rose out of the blackness, thick with anger and very definitely female. “Don't tell me you lost the trail?”No words answered her, but one of the hellhounds whined.
So, not only could the zombie understand crow, but the witch could understand hellhound. Either that, or they were telepathic—which was entirely possible, given that my knowledge of hellhounds could have filled a teaspoon.
“Well, scents just can't disappear.” She paused, as if listening, then added, “No excuses accepted. Finish off the creature. We must get out of here.”
I glanced toward Kye. Who is that?
My target.
She's the crow?
Yep.
Who put you onto her?
The father of her first victim. He's a friend of mine, and asked me to look into it.
The first victim was only murdered several nights ago. That's not exactly giving us a whole lot of time to solve this case.
If it was your daughter, he said, mind voice patient, like he was talking to a slightly slow child, wouldn't you take every avenue you could to find her killer?
He had a point—although it wasn't one I was about to acknowledge. So technically, you're not hunting a bounty, you're just hunting.
With intent to kill. Just like me. Except I was supposedly on the side of the angels. Kye was on no one's side but his most recent employer.
Considering hunting is illegal in this state, do you think, it wise for me to admit it?
He'd basically done that anyway, which only emphasized the point that this wolf had very little fear of guardians or of the Directorate. Which meant he was either very dangerous or very stupid, and I suspected it wasn't the latter.
This is a guardian case, Kye. Which means I have to warn you to keep your nose out of it.
Warning heard.
And ignored, if his tone was anything to go by.
A soft scraping filled the brief silence. I frowned down at the ground I still couldn't see, wondering what the witch was doing.
Shit, Kye said. The blackness is fading and lifting.
He was right, because the ground was suddenly visible—and distant enough that old fears had me stepping back from the edge. The curtain was lifting from the concrete up, and if we didn't do something very quickly, it would leave us altogether exposed.
It wasn't the witch that worried me. It was those hounds.
I stepped forward, wrapped my arms around Kye, and pulled him close. He tensed instantly, and the warm amusement that had been flowing between us fled faster than water down a drain.
Now is not a good time for this sort of thing.
Amusement bubbled through me. So, it was okay for the bounty hunter to pull me close, but heaven forbid that I do the same. Don't worry, wolf I'm not trying to jump your bones. If I was, you'd know about it.
So what the hell are you trying to do?
He was still as stiff as a board, and yet despite his obvious displeasure with my sudden action, there were parts of him that were totally enjoying the experience.
Which was a relief, because at least it meant I hadn't entirely lost my touch in the weeks I'd been with Quinn.
I'm half vampire, remember? I can cloak, us in darkness.