Dead Shifter Walking (14 page)

“Done,” I countered. “I will lose it before he
feeds.”

Tate nodded, motioning I should get started. I
wished he were forcing me on Blake; that I could get behind. This
was going to take some acting.

But the sooner this was over, the sooner I could
leave. I tuned out everything, including the awful music blasting
through the club, but it had a beat, so I could work with it.
Rolling my shoulders, I shook out my arms, placing my hands on
Jackson’s crossed arms, giving him a small smile behind hooded lids
gently pushing his arms down.

He was compliant, and I hadn’t even broken out
with the real source of my power yet, playing off his earlier
emotions while dancing with Wanda. Smiling wider, I curled my hips
close to his in the pattern I was playing of off.

Running my hands over his abdomen, I slinked
down, trailing my hands over his hips then to quads before turning
and pushing my hips up first against his hips then trailing my
hands slowly up my legs. Once my head was against his shoulder, I
dropped my energy into the room as pure desire, attraction, and a
painful need, washing over everything.

Blake gripped the love seat in front of him
while Tate’s fangs lengthened. I felt Jackson’s response from
behind me.

“Convinced yet?” I asked him, tipping my head
back.

“Yes,” he growled.

“Will you unzip me?” I asked softly, pulling
away, much to his dismay, as his fingers dug into my hips. I toned
down the emotions I was pushing off and Jackson took one hand off
my hip to unzip me in vamp-speed quickness. I would be lucky if it
was still in one piece after this. The pink beauty made no sound as
it hit the floor.

Tate was staring in open admiration the amber
shining behind his almost black eyes, while Blake slowly licked his
bottom lip,.

Tilting my head to the side, I felt Jackson’s
fangs press against my neck before he bit down. Cringing, I pulled
the rest of my emotions in: I forgot how awful new vamp bites were.
Ouch! He moaned behind me drawing in more biting down harder. I
schooled my features, braiding the pain into my core while biting
down hard on my bottom lip.

Someone touched my cheek and I opened my eyes to
find Blake talking to Jackson. “Enough; bite your lip or tongue and
close her wounds.”

Numbly, I felt Jackson nod as his fangs left my
neck; I sagged with relief when I felt his blood healing the deep
puncture wounds.

Jackson left the room, staggering; succubus
blood was powerful. Blake led me back to the love seat, gently
setting me down.

“Never been bit by a newbie?” asked Tate, still
smiling.

“I have,” I cringed, rubbing my neck. “It’s just
been awhile.”

Fatigue settled over my limbs and I leaned my
head against the armrest. Had feeding two of the undead depleted my
reserves that quickly? No, I had fed more than that and been
perfectly fine. It was something else. The tension in my temples
made my stomach clench with fear.

“Tate,” I whispered.

“Yes, Olivia, do you need a rest now before your
next performance?” he asked with humor in his voice.

“It’s him,” I said equally as soft.

It took him only a moment to realize about whom
I was speaking. “I can’t move,” I whispered, terrified.

“Olie, what do you see,” he asked, kneeling
before me with his hands on my bare knees.

“Nothing. Bite me,” I asked, my voice shaking.
“Hurry,” I begged.

Tate lowered his mouth to my knee, not
attempting to draw any blood and bit down. I let the toxins
overwhelm my senses and found I could move again. Pushing him away,
I ran out the office, down the stairs, and flung the back door
open, leaping into the alley.

There I paused, which was enough time for Tate
and Blake to catch up; turning in a semicircle, I felt the pull
again behind me and took off running with everything I had.

“What do you see, Olie?” Tate asked again, not
even out of breath—damn vamp speed. I focused on the second vision,
causing me to crash into garbage cans.

“Glass roof,” I said, between my labored
breaths. “It’s a gallery of some kind, blue walls,” I said, darting
out into traffic to horns and screeching tires , fighting the
lethargy that wanted to take over. Please let me get there in time,
I repeated over and over. I didn’t want to help another soul cross
over. I couldn’t stand to fail yet again.

Down a dark industrial street, I turned
abruptly, knowing we were close. “There!” I screamed, pointing to
the light in the top floor of a commercial renovation building with
huge glass windows on the roof. Without another word, Blake wrapped
his arm around my naked waist and propelled us airborne.

Tate landed softly on the roof next to us. I
didn’t waste a moment as I pushed ahead full force into the
triangle glass ceiling shielding my face with my forearms. The
glass gave way, slicing my shoulders and shins as I turned on my
side for the fifteen-foot drop. Rolling away from the glass, I
heard the screams from down a blue hallway. Not waiting for the
other two, I sprinted ahead, fighting the exhaustion that bloomed
in my muscles.

That fatigue caught up with me, as I slammed
into a wall, turned and found an enormous wolf shifter in mid-form
throwing around the patrons of the gallery. Lowering my center of
gravity, I slammed into his black and silver midsection taking us
both down. Mid-form made this fucker tall with the head of an
overly large and aggressive wolf combined with a hairy almost human
body; it was a form that drove fear into most. The stench emitting
from him had me wrinkling my nose as we rolled onto the orange
floor tiles.

There is only one sure way to kill a shifter,
beheading, and, no, I did not have a large sword hidden in my bra
nor did I have a magic bra or panties that would turn into a sword.
All this I contemplated as I blasted punch after punch into his
face that concaved as I hit it, leaving my hand covered in dirt and
worms.

What the fuck, a dead shifter? How the fuck do I
kill this? I groaned.

I must have said that last part out loud because
Tate’s voice answered, “Keep it busy, Olivia, while we get everyone
out of here.”

Yeah, right, that sounded like a perfect plan as
the thing threw me over his head, slamming my back into the metal
beamed ceiling. Catching my ankle on my trip down, he held me
upside down.

The mangled jaw tried to form words I couldn’t
understand as I used my other leg to kick brutally into its neck,
hoping the bone there would crumble as easy as the face. I was
rewarded for my effort as bone and dried muscle disintegrated
against my kick. It was then I realized I had also lost my shoes
somewhere while running to get here, as I was grossed out by bugs
clinging to my toes.

I didn’t have much time for that thought before
big and ugly spun me adding some force behind his throw into a
painting that was protected with glass. I cringed as I felt the
slivers pierce my exposed back, landing hard on my knees driving
more shards into my abused flesh.

“Hang on, Olivia,” I heard Blake call out.

“Don’t have anywhere else to go,” I yelled back
as nasty sent a punishing kick to my stomach. I wanted to braid the
pain away, but it was so intense I feared blacking out, so I pushed
it away and staggered to my feet, feeling the glass cut the
delicate flesh and watching the empty eye sockets track me.

We were facing off with a table and chairs
between us. Without any other option, I grabbed a chair, slamming
it against the creeper’s head, which flew off with a sick
crunch.

My hopes of that killing it died when it
stumbled, arms outstretched, still able to track me. Using another
chair, I slammed it with all my force into a knee, hobbling it
further, and then treated the other to the same. When it was unable
to do more than crawl, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“Olivia,” Tate said, “move now.” He held a
burning bottle of something in his hands. Not needing to be told
twice, I booked it over to him, limping heavily.

Tate let it fly, igniting the dried corpse into
a brilliant display of flames. Breathing deeply, I turned to
Blake.

“Geez, you’re a mess,” he said as though I
hadn’t just gone six rounds with an undead shifter.

“Yeah, well some ass made me get undressed,” I
said, pulling shards of glass from my knees, tensing when Blake
pulled a few out of my back.

“The good news is that your lovely dress is
still in one piece,” Tate said looking me over, “unlike you at the
moment.”

Sirens wailed in the distance. “We need to
leave,” Blake said. I nodded, not wanting to surrender the rest of
my minimal clothing to the police.

Blake picked me up and walked to the balcony. He
and Tate jumped the hundred-foot drop easily. I attempted to stay
conscious, but my adrenalin was depleted, and with the heavy pull
of lethargy still clinging to me, I gave in to the welcoming
blackness.

Chapter 8

I was warm when I woke up; something soft
brushed against my cheek.

“She’s waking up,” I heard a faraway voice
say.

“Stay still, Olie, we’re almost done.” I thought
I heard Kass along with the distinctive clink of glass hitting a
mental tray and the smell of sanitization.

I must have passed out again, for when I next
awoke, the sun was blocked out by heavy curtains, and a warm body
was pressed up against my own.

“Kass?” I whispered.

The warm body next to me shifted as I blinked
rapidly, trying to regain my sight.

“Easy there, Olie,” said Blake.

“Blake?” I asked, finally getting my vision to
come together.

He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “How do
you feel?”

“Like I’ve been drugged,” I grunted.

He smiled, caressing my cheek. “That’s to be
expected.”

“Where am I?” I asked, not bothering to move
from his touch.

“My place,” he answered. “We needed to keep a
twenty-four-hour watch on you to be sure the fucker doesn’t try and
attack again.”

I sighed, rolling to my back. “Yeah, all that
crap,” I said, my moment of peaceful contentment broken.
“Bathroom?” I asked, sitting up to a head rush.

I felt Blake’s hand stabilizing me on the small
of my back, while he used the other to point to a door to the
left.

“Leave the door open, Olie, so I can hear if you
need me,” he said sternly.

“Alright,” I answered, relieving my overly full
bladder. Looking down, I didn’t recognize the shirt I was in. “Did
you change me?” I asked.

“No, Kass did,” he said pulling on what sounded
like pants; well at least one of us was dressed. “Your clothing was
brought over this morning and is being cleaned now.”

I yawned. Why did everyone feel the need to wash
my clothing? I got around to it enough. “Are there other clothing
options if I shower?” I asked, flushing the toilet and washing my
hands.

“My wardrobe is at your disposal,” Blake
answered, leaning against the doorframe in only a faded a pair of
blue jeans. If I thought Tate had looked good, I would gladly eat
those words for the beauty in front of me. Broad shoulders tapered
into a well-defined stomach with two beautiful groves on his hips
disappearing into the denim. He could unquestionably work part time
as a WWF wrestler. I now needed a cold shower.

Turning around, I opened the glass shower doors
to start the shower.

“Do you need any help?” Blake asked, clearly
noting my previous interest.

“I think I got it. You mind a little privacy?” I
asked raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t need it,” he answered.

I sighed. Vampires were notorious for being the
playboys of the undead world. Suave and powerful, they thrived on
one conquest after the next.

He must have sensed my mood shift. “You
alright?” he asked concerned, reaching out to my shoulder.

“Yep, just tired,” I answered, which was the
truth. I was too tired to play his game, too tired to pretend I
wasn’t in a miserably foul mood after what had happened. While we
may have saved one group and killed an undead shifter, there was
still a puppet master pulling the strings, and if he could raise
one undead, I was certain he could raise another. It was just a
matter of time.

“I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me,” he
said, turning and leaving. Well, that was unexpected but not
unwelcomed.

In the shower, I took stock of my injuries. Most
of the slices had turned to just scratches, and, while they itched,
I was able to walk without a horrendous limp. I was grateful they
hadn’t tried to give me vamp blood. While vampires healed the
quickest of the undead and for humans their blood was a powerful
drug and remedy, for a succubus, it would heal any outward injury
but the effects on our internal organs could potentially kill
us.

Shifters healed slower than vampires, but were
equally dangerous in battle. What they lacked in vamp speed, they
more than made up for in brute strength. I suppose it made sense
that shifters were being reanimated. When vampires were killed,
they turned to dust; there was nothing to reanimate. Humans would
be too weak, and most of the other races of supernaturals tended to
cremate their dead.

Drying off, I recognized the clothing sitting on
the toilet as the outfit I had worn when Tate visited and
unwelcomingly stayed the night. I certainly hoped they were clean.
Towel drying my hair, I went into the bedroom to find Blake leafing
through a file.

“Are you hungry?” he asked with a knowing smile
as my stomach announced its demands.

“What do you have there?” I asked, curiosity
putting my stomach on hold.

He came around the bed, still a shirtless
wonder, and propelled me towards the door. “Eat and then we can
discuss what was found.”

I had to climb down three levels of Blake’s
monstrosity of a home and follow my nose to the overwhelming aromas
to arrive at the kitchen, which I instantly fell in love with. I
swear he copied a cooking show with his stainless steel appliances
and large island; there were rich blue accents at places, but it
was definitely a man’s kitchen, no hint of female involvement at
all.