Ronan’s chest constricted and he let out a sharp breath as though he’d been gut punched with a redwood. Gods, how he wanted her! Every minute spent with her was torture. Every new detail revealed a secret he wanted to covet. Ronan jumped up beside her, so close that her exotic forest scent enveloped him. His want of her was a physical thing, digging in with barbed claws that wouldn’t let go.
Moonlight shone on the curling strands of Naya’s dark hair, lending a midnight blue hue to the locks. Ronan reached out as though he had no control of his own hand and lightly threaded his fingers through its silky length. His cock stirred with his emerging lust and his fangs began to throb. Needing her and never getting to have her would kill him as surely as his blood troth to Siobhan would. The question was: Which one would end him first?
His own life be damned, Ronan knew that he’d go mad if he didn’t take Naya’s vein again. Didn’t taste the sweetness of her mouth again …
Naya’s body went rigid in front of him and her scent soured as her adrenaline spiked. Ronan buried his face in her wild curls and whispered close to her ear, “What is it?”
“Trouble,” she responded on a slow breath. “Up ahead. Maybe two hundred yards.”
Ronan’s own anxiety tightened his muscles. What if what had gotten to him had gotten to Chelle first and that’s why they hadn’t found her yet? What if the very creature they were tracking was his own sister, corrupted by foreign magic? “Let me go first.” He stepped in front of Naya, tucking her close behind him.
She let out a soft snort and pulled away. “Oh no. I don’t need protection, vampire.”
The hell she didn’t. He’d be damned if he let her put herself in the path of danger when he was there to take the first blow. “We don’t know what’s out there. It’s not safe for you to go charging toward an unknown like that.”
This time, the sound that escaped her lips was pure incredulity. “You don’t know what’s out there. I know exactly what we’re dealing with.” She took off at a jog, leaving Ronan to trail behind. “Just do me a favor and stay out of my way. I can’t be worrying about whether or not you’re okay. Got it?”
Without waiting for a response, she cut to the right, using the tall pilings as cover. Her shadow darted through the darkness, a graceful ballet of motion that Ronan couldn’t help but admire.
Magnificent.
He took off after her, careful to follow her path. It took all of the self-control he could muster not to charge out ahead of her, but Ronan let her take the lead while he covered her back in the event of an ambush.
The screech of metal on metal grated on Ronan’s ears and Naya took off like a shot, sprinting toward the source of the sound. His heart rocketed up into his throat as he pulled the Glock Naya had loaned him and a dagger from his waistband while he chased after her, prepared to kill anything that might do her harm.
Even Chelle?
Ronan’s step faltered, but he stayed his course. If Chelle had been lost to infectious magic, he’d deal with it when—and if—he had to. But beyond that, his number-one priority was the female running headlong into danger as though she risked her life on a daily basis.
Fifty yards ahead of him, ripping through sheets of steel as though it were tissue paper, was a creature straight out of a nightmare. At least eight feet tall, with talons like sickle blades and razor-sharp pointed teeth, the creature couldn’t have been any less human. Or dhampir for that matter. Ronan had no idea what he was looking at, but he knew whatever it was, it wasn’t looking to take a peaceful midnight stroll. Globs of fluorescent color dripped from its scaly black flesh, landing on the ground with a splatter as it cut a swath of destruction in its wake.
One large arm swiped out at Naya, the talons flashing bone white in the moonlight. She ducked and rolled to her left, missing the blow by inches. In a beat her gun was drawn and she fired off three successive shots that whispered through the thick ocean air, quieted by the silencer. The beast’s back arched with pain and it spun, its speed belying its height and bulk. Naya drew the dagger from behind her back and its canary glow was like a beacon in the foggy night as she gained her footing and charged at the creature currently trying to take her head off.
“Naya, look out!”
Gods. She truly was going to be the death of him, wasn’t she?
* * *
The creature Naya fought was no longer human. Hell, it was no longer anything. A manifestation of malicious magic, it was an incarnation of evil and destruction. A force of nature in and of itself. Globs of residual ethereal energy seeped from its skin, landing on the ground in great puddles of colorful light. The music deafened her. A cacophony of riotous sound that caused her brain to pound in her skull and her vision to blur. Even the air was thick with magic, sticking to her lungs as she breathed it in and as difficult to expel as pudding. She fought as much against the sensory overload as she did the creature intent on killing her. Her own magic rose up from the seat of her power, glowing like a cinder in her belly. Naya drew on it, allowed the power to fuel her as it traveled down her arm like a conduit and into the blade of her already-hungry dagger.