I'll Be Slaying You(41)

One of the guards ran behind the shifter, grabbed a phone, and immediately called for an ambulance.

“Won’t do any good,” Simon said, voice grim. “Doctors can’t help her now.”

Donovan looked up, his teeth lengthening, his nostrils flaring. “What did you do?”

Ah, now there was the problem. He reached out and trailed his fingers down Dee’s cheeks. “Not a damn thing.” Her flesh was warm. No longer chilled as she’d been in that alley.

Life, not death.

Why was it so hard for people to understand?

Footsteps thudded down the hallway. More hunters, coming to the aid of their fallen friend.

His thumb brushed over her lips. Those soft lips were stained red with her blood.

Simon dropped his hand. “Tell Dee…tell her I didn’t do a damn thing.”

Pak rounded the corner. Maybe he’d heard the shifter’s bellow or maybe one of the guards had buzzed him. Pak staggered to a stop at the sight of a limp Dee in Donovan’s arms.

Don’t leave her. Stay. The command came from inside, from the soul he’d all but forgotten in the last few years.

Stay. A temptation that almost broke him. She’d wake up. Confused. Angry.

She’d need him. She’d need—

No. The vamps could track him. They couldn’t track her.

This time, it wouldn’t be about what he needed. Simon met Pak’s dark eyes. “You’ll know how to take care of her.”

Pak flinched as understanding hit. “No…Dee?”

His head inclined in the briefest of nods. Then, one last look. Couldn’t help it. He had to see her once more.

Dee.

Donovan had dropped to his knees and spread Dee out on the floor before him. His hands were at her chest, jerking open her shirt and pressing against the wound.

It wasn’t bleeding, not any longer.

Simon swallowed. The game hadn’t gone according to plan. Not at all.

Fuck.

“Good-bye, Dee.” Simon turned away and went back to the darkness.

The darkness always waited for him.

And now, for her.



Dee opened her eyes and sucked in a sharp, hard breath. A fierce pounding filled her ears. Hard, too loud. A dozen scents assaulted her nose. Perfume, too strong. Cigars. Mint. A wild, animal scent and—

Voices buzzed in her ears. Dozens of them. The buzzing grew, louder and louder, turning into a mad roar—

“Dee! Dammit, Dee, look at me!”

She blinked at the thundering voice and her gaze flew to meet Pak’s glittering stare. Pak? How had he found her? She’d been in that alley, bleeding all over the place—

Blood.

Simon.

Vampire.

“Easy, Dee.” Hands were on her shoulders. Holding her in place. Holding her down? She glanced to the right. Saw Jude, his face white, his jaw clenched. There was something in his eyes as he looked at her, something—

Pity?

“I-I-” She sounded like a freaking frog. A really loud frog. “I was…dying.” Her hand fumbled, reached for her chest.

Her shirt had been cut away and she touched skin. Smooth, unmarred flesh right over her heart.

No, no, that wasn’t possible.

“Breathe, hunter. You’ll still need to breathe,” Pak told her softly.

Well, of course she needed to breathe. Everyone did. She took another hard breath and swallowed and realized that she was thirsty.

Very, very thirsty.

Her teeth began to ache.

“Are you in control?” Pak asked.

Dee could only stare blankly at him. Why am I alive? Did the knife miss my heart? Maybe the wound hadn’t been as deep as she’d thought, but there had been so much blood.

Blood.

The drumming in her ears pounded faster, louder. Her hand rose higher, brushing over the edge of her bra, and her fingers circled her throat. So dry. It hurt to swallow.

“Drink this.” Pak shoved a black mug into her left hand.

Pak had never led her wrong. Dee lifted the mug, and the liquid, sweet and rich and oh, God, good, slid over her tongue and down her parched throat.

More.

Greedy, desperate, she drained the mug in three swallows. “More!” The taste lingered on her tongue. Pak had been holding out on her. He’d never given her anything like this before and—

“Maybe we should give her the whole bag.” Jude’s voice. Deep and booming, except maybe he’d been whispering.

Her gaze slanted to him, and she found him holding up one of those bags, kinda like the IV drips you’d see in a hospital, only—this one was filled with red fluid. No, with blood.

Give her the whole bag.

Dee licked her lips and the mug dropped from her hand, shattering onto the floor.

She vomited then because she knew what they’d just given her. What she’d eagerly taken.

“Fuck! Get towels in here!” Shouted to someone, somewhere, then, “Everything is okay, Dee.” Pak, still trying to be reassuring.