Kiss of Crimson(82)

―Everything cool?‖ Tegan asked, his deep voice drifting over from across the dim cockpit of the SUV. ―You heading for a repeat of what happened earlier?‖

―No.‖ Dante gave a vague shake of his head, still staring out the open window, watching the blur of lights and traffic as the downtown buildings fell behind them and the old neighborhoods of South Boston came into view. ―No, this is... something different.‖

The damn knot of cold in his chest was boring deeper, becoming glacial even as his palms began to sweat. His stomach clenched. Adrenaline dumped into his veins in a sudden, jolting flood. What the hell?

It was fear running through him, he realized. Shell-shocked terror. Not his own, but someone else‘s.

Oh, Jesus.

―Stop the car.‖

It was Tess‘s fear he was feeling. Her horror reaching out to him via the blood connection they shared. She was in danger out there. Mortal danger.

―Tegan, stop the fucking car!‖

The warrior hit the brakes and dragged the steering wheel hard to the right, coolly skidding the Rover onto the berm. They weren‘t too far from Ben Sullivan‘s apartment; his building could be no more than half a dozen blocks‘ distance—twice that if they had to navigate the maze of one-way streets and traffic lights between here and there. Dante threw open the passenger door and jumped out onto the pavement. He dragged air into his lungs, praying he could get a tack on Tess‘s scent.

There it was.

He locked on to the cinnamon-sweet note braided among the thousand other mingled odors carrying on the chill night breeze. Tess‘s blood scent was trace, but growing stronger—too much so.

Dante‘s veins ran cold.

Somewhere, not far from where he stood, Tess was bleeding.

Tegan leaned across the seat, one thick forearm draped over the wheel, his shrewd gaze narrowed.

―Dante, man—what the fuck? What‘s going on?‖

―No time,‖ Dante said. He pivoted back around to the car and slammed the door shut. ―I‘m taking off on foot. I need you to haul ass to Ben Sullivan‘s place. It‘s off—‖

―I remember the way,‖ Chase piped up from the backseat, meeting Dante‘s gaze through the Rover‘s open window. ―Go. We‘ll be right behind you.‖

Dante nodded once at the grave faces staring at him, then he swung around and took off at a dead run.

He cut through yards, leaped over fences, sped down tight alleyways, firing off every cylinder of his Breed-born speed and agility. To the humans he passed, he was nothing but cold air, a brush of icy November wind on the backs of their necks as he barreled over and around them, all of his focus honed on one thing: Tess.

Halfway down a side street that would dump him onto Ben Sullivan‘s block, Dante saw the little terrier Tess had brought back from the brink of death with her healing touch. The dog was wandering loose on the dark sidewalk, its leash dragging limply behind it.

Hell of a bad sign, but Dante knew he was close now.

God help him, he had to be.

―Tess!‖ he shouted, praying she could hear him. That he wasn‘t already too late.

He peeled around the corner of a three-decker, jumping over the toys and bicycles that littered the front yard. Her blood scent was stronger now, a shot of dread hammering his temples.

―Tess!‖

He tracked her like the beam of a laser sight, racing in a mindless panic when he picked up the low snuffles and grunts of Rogues fighting over a prize.

Oh, Christ. No.

Across the street from the building where Ben Sullivan lived, Tess‘s handbag lay near the curb, the contents spilling out of it. Dante veered right, racing down a foot-worn path that cut between two houses. There was a shed at the end of the path, the door swinging idly on its hinges.

Tess was inside. Dante knew it with a dread so deep it made his step falter.

Behind him, in the split second before he could reach the shed and tear the thing down with his bare hands, a Rogue came out of the shadows and pounced. Dante twisted as he fell, withdrawing one of his blades and slicing it across the suckhead‘s face. The Rogue gave an unearthly shriek, flying off him in agony as his corrupted blood system got a good taste of lethal titanium. Dante rolled out of his crouch and shot to his feet as the Rogue spasmed into swift death and decomposition. On the street now, the black Range Rover roared up and lurched to a sharp halt. Tegan and Chase jumped out, weapons in hand. Another Rogue came out of the dark, but he took one look at Tegan‘s icy stare and decided to run the opposite way. The warrior sprang like a great cat, leaping into pursuit. Chase must have seen more trouble at Ben Sullivan‘s apartment, because he held his pistol in ready position and started off across the street at a stealth jog.

As for Dante, he was hardly aware of the peripheral action. His boots were already chewing up earth, moving toward the shed and the terrible noises that were emanating from it. The wet, slick sounds of vampires feeding was nothing new to him, but the idea that they were harming Tess threw his rage into the nuclear zone. He stalked to the flapping shed door and yanked it loose with one hand. It sailed across the empty back lot, instantly forgotten.