The Mech Who Loved Me(80)

Ava kicked and fought, overwhelmed by only one desire: to kill.

"That," she snarled, stabbing him again, "is for that poor old lady!" Again. "And her husband!" Again. "And that little girl I nearly ran over-"

A hand caught her wrist and her suddenly nerveless fingers dropped the makeshift stake.

"Bitch." He caught her by the throat and kicked her feet out from under her. They both went down, Ava hampered by her skirts. His weight overpowered her, but she was fueled by something she'd never felt before.

She screamed a scream of pure rage, raking at his face and shoulders with her nails, wishing, damn her, she'd learned how to fight better when Byrnes taught her the basics. Pain bloomed through her hand.

"Stay down!" the dhampir hissed, but he looked frightened, as though he hadn't expected any of this. He clapped one hand over her mouth and nose, and the other over her throat. "The serum should have worked. What are you?"

She couldn't breathe.

But she hadn't been able to breathe a long time ago, and she'd survived that too.

"It should have stopped your heart," the dhampir yelled, and Ava suddenly understood.

Her cursed clockwork heart had just saved her life. 

She rolled her head from side to side, trying to throw him off. No help for it. He was too strong. But... she caught a glimpse of the syringe in the corner of her eye, half an inch of milky green liquid inside it.

Pressure popped behind her eyes. Her lungs heaved. Color was starting to come back to the edges of the room, as though the craving was retreating, the predator silenced by lack of air.

Ava's groping hand reached for the syringe. Nothing. Nothing. Her vision swam. She didn't want it to end like this. There was too much she hadn't done, too much she hadn't seen. A life lived in a laboratory. Hiding in her books. Keeping her emotions and life strictly controlled. No blood. No Kincaid....

Her fingers closed over the syringe. Ava drove it into her assailant's side, pumping the rest of the dose into him.

His body arched instantly, a scream tearing from his lips. She could breathe again. Move. Ava shoved her way out from under him as he fell into convulsions on the floor, and then the door burst open, and-

Kincaid and Malloryn burst in, pistols drawn.

"Blood and steel," Malloryn muttered, lowering his pistol a little as the dhampir thrashed.

Ava groaned, rocking on her hands and knees. Something hurt deep inside. There was blood in her mouth, and the veins across the back of her hands pulsed, as if liquid mercury slid through them.

"Ava!" Kincaid sheathed his pistol, his face tight with concern. The color fled from his skin. "Jaysus, Ava!"

Malloryn kicked her attacker over onto his back, pointing the pistol warningly, but the dhampir's heels drummed on the floor, a bloodied froth forming at his mouth. Ava's mouth dropped open. That could have been her. It should have been her.

"What happened to him?" Malloryn barked.

"She's hurt." Kincaid knelt beside her, soothing a hand up her spine. "Jaysus, look at her face. Ava? Are you all right, sweetheart?"

The craving virus returned with force, the scent of Kincaid's body overwhelming her. All she wanted was to bury her blunt teeth in his throat, and drain him dry.

Not Kincaid. He'd never forgive her. "Leave me alone!" She scrambled into the corner, her hands curled in claws and her body trembling as pain overtook her.

"Ava!" The cursed man came after her. "Ava, we're here. You're okay. We've got you." His rough voice thickened. "I've got you."

There was an unspoken message there she didn't have time to study. A sudden urge overtook her and Ava started coughing, blood spraying across her black-marbled hands.

Whatever the dhampir had injected her with, it hadn't finished wreaking havoc within her.





Nineteen





THERE WERE FEW things in Kincaid's life that had ever frightened him. Seeing Ava like this gutted him. Absolutely gutted him.

Especially when he considered their stupid fucking argument. He hadn't cared then if innocent people were hurt. All he'd thought about was bringing the blue bloods of the Echelon down, but Ava was right. Innocents would suffer, and until she was the one who'd nearly died, a part of him hadn't understood that.

Guilt ravaged him. She should have died. There was no reason for her to have survived. But somehow she had, and though he'd not prayed to any gods in years, he was praying now. Please. Please let her survive this.

She shuddered against his chest, her face streaked with blood and her skirts torn and ragged. Kincaid squeezed her gently. It was one thing to know the Company of Rogues agents walked into danger every time they faced these bastards-quite another to think of Ava in that same danger.