The Warrior Vampire(52)

Naya cringed. The accusation in Joaquin’s tone stung. She should have called someone. Told Luz to let everyone know that she was okay. Of course they’d assumed she’d been killed; she never went out on a hunt without checking in. He was upset. Worried. And betrayed. She got that. But any aggression against Ronan would be a bad idea. Joaquin had no idea just who—or what—he was up against.

Completely unabashed by his nakedness, Joaquin paced, his narrowed gaze flitting from Naya to Ronan. He was nearly as big as Ronan, his body corded with lean muscle. Sleeker than her vampire, but no less deadly. Joaquin’s nostrils flared and a muscle at his jaw ticked. The sound of drums picked up its pace in Naya’s soul and it was obvious that the male held on to his control by the barest of threads. If he shifted again, he’d attack. Naya was certain of it. She had to calm him down, diffuse his temper before it exploded. Joaquin rounded on her, his body shaking with unrestrained rage, and pointed an accusing finger. “Eres mio!” You are mine.

Oh, hell no. Naya wasn’t some object to be passed around and she sure as shit wasn’t going to let anyone treat her like one. Ronan stepped up behind Naya, close enough that the heat from his chest soaked into her back. He rested a large palm on her hip, angling her body toward his. A low warning growl erupted into a full-blown snarl. Whether or not he spoke Spanish, Naya assumed that Ronan had gotten the gist of Joaquin’s tone. Great.

She pulled away from Ronan’s possessive embrace and stalked toward Joaquin, ready to take his fool head from his shoulders. There were monsters running loose in town. Malicious magic was infecting people at an alarming rate. They didn’t have time for this bullcrap. “I am not your property.” She stabbed a finger at his wide chest. “I’ve spent over half of the past twenty-four hours unconscious. And if not for the male standing behind me, I would be dead.” Gods, she was so tired of being kept under someone’s thumb. Of being treated as though she couldn’t take care of herself when she was out patrolling every night, by herself and getting shit done. “And what I do with my body is none of your business, Joaquin. If I want to fuck the entire male population of Crescent City, I will! Got it?” She gave a final stab at his chest, knocking him back a pace.

Joaquin’s eyes widened, his jaw slack. “Dioses, Naya. What has he done to you? Usted está brillando!”

Oh yeah. She’d forgotten about the magic that painted her skin with a brilliant rose light. Crap. Talk about a scarlet letter. Keeping her sex life on the DL was going to be a little tough when the evidence of a mind-shattering orgasm sent a charge of magic over her skin. Joaquin shoved her none too gently to the side, snatching a long knife from a sheath at her hip, and stalked past her.

“You’re dead!” he seethed at Ronan as he brought the weapon high above his head, ready to strike.

Fuck. A. Duck. This was her fault. If she hadn’t given in to her passions like some sex-starved teenager, this never would have happened. Ronan would be tucked away at her house and she’d be getting an epic ass chewing from the elders.

“Joaquin, stop it!” She turned and grabbed his arm, but he shook her off as though she were nothing more than an insubstantial fly.

Ronan didn’t share in Naya’s concern. His eyes glowed like moonlight and he crouched in a defensive stance, his fangs bared. Joaquin’s speed was impressive as he launched his body at Ronan in a graceful arch. Impressive, but Joaquin was no match for a vampire.

Ronan caught him in midair and slammed him to the ground.

Never one to cower, Joaquin rocked on his back, kicking his legs up to propel himself upright. Sand kicked out from under his feet as he dug in, charging for Ronan with his dagger drawn. The two went down in a tangle of limbs and a cloud of sand. Their movements were nothing more than a smudge of color against a dark backdrop, leaving Naya no hope of entering the fray to break up the fight.

“Ronan, stop it!” Her plea fell on deaf ears as he landed a wicked right hook to Joaquin’s face.

A flash of blue winked from Joaquin’s stolen blade and Naya’s stomach did a backflip as Ronan batted the weapon away. He was stronger than Joaquin. Faster. But Ronan’s size and bulk of muscle made him less limber and Joaquin was able to outmaneuver him more than once. The tiny hairs on Naya’s arms and the back of her neck prickled as though in warning of a coming storm. Electricity charged the air until she swore she could smell the ozone in the distance. Her eyesight blurred, and the sound of the fight faded to the back of her mind as her ears were filled with staccato notes, wild and raucous, so sharp and disjointed that goose bumps rose on her skin.