Deadly Pursuit (A Blood Hunter Novel, #2) (47 page)

“Look, sweetheart,” he said, and she shuddered at the endearment, “you’re as good as dead. This is going to happen, so why not make it easy on yourself?”

“Because I don’t want to die.”

He took a step toward her. Keeping her gaze fixed on him, she backed up, then jumped as hard hands settled on her shoulders. She held herself still, unsure what to do. One thing she did know was there was no way she was giving them what they wanted. They’d have to take it. She tensed herself to fight when off in the distance, she heard the roar of a blaster. Her gaze shot upward as a white light streaked down from somewhere in orbit, followed by an explosion on the surface that sent orange flames shooting into the twilight sky.

The shuttle.

Jon would have been back by now, probably readying for takeoff. Her mind refused to register more than that. Jon couldn’t be dead. Not at the hands of someone like Hezrai. Inside her mind screamed in denial, and she tried to rip free from the hands that held her as though she could somehow go and save him. Drag him out from the wreckage, touch him one last time.

But the fingers tightened on her shoulders, digging into her flesh. She fought harder, but the struggle was futile, and finally she stood still, breathing hard now.

Why hadn’t she worn her laser pistol? Because she had thought she was safe. It had never occurred to her that Hezrai would harm her. She was a fool, and some of her pain and fear was swamped beneath a wave of rage that rose up inside her.

The man in front of her had been watching the explosion. Now he turned back to her, a slight smile curling his thin lips. “There, it’s just you and us now. I’ve never had me a priestess before.” He reached out, tugged the headdress from her hair, and tossed it to the ground. “Red,” he murmured as he caught sight of her hair.

She’d told him the truth—she wanted to live. At least long enough to rip Hezrai into bloody little pieces for what he had done to Jon. But the man standing in front of her wasn’t offering her life in exchange for her cooperation, just a quicker death.

Barring divine intervention, she couldn’t see any way out of this. And with that realization, some of her panic left her and her brain could function again.

She wouldn’t beg. Well, maybe she would, but only to give herself a chance to take at least one of them down with her.

Forcing her grief over Jon to the back of her mind, she stared at the ground until she was sure she had control of her expression. She wiped the anger from her face, allowing fear and pain to fill her eyes as she raised her gaze. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

His smile broadened. “That’s more like it.”

Alex examined him—he had a weapons belt at his waist with a laser pistol and a large knife. She needed one of those weapons, preferably the pistol, but she’d take the knife.

He raised his hands to the neck of her dress and yanked, trying to rip it down the front, but the material refused to tear. “What the hell is this stuff?” he muttered.

Alex could have told him it was wool from the Abbey’s sheep, woven with silk, spun by the Abbey’s own silk worms, bred from worms brought from Earth more than a thousand years ago. But she didn’t think he’d be interested in the history lesson.

She didn’t want to do this, but it was the only way to get them to lower their guard. “The back,” she said meekly. “It buttons down the back.”

Suspicion flashed across his features. Maybe she was being too cooperative, but he nodded over her shoulder and the other man released his grip on her arms and stepped away.

Hands slipped inside the neck of her dress and ripped the cloth so the cool air brushed against her bare skin. For a second, she hugged the dress to her, then she unwound her arms from her middle, tugged the sleeves down, and let the bodice fall to her waist, baring her breasts.

The leader licked his lips then reached out a hand and cupped her breast.

A shudder of revulsion ran through her, but Alex forced herself to take a step closer; so close she could smell the rank scent of his sweat. “Please, you promised not to hurt me, and I’ve never done this before.”

Her hand crept to his side, and she clenched her teeth as she realized there was no way she could reach his laser pistol; besides it was on the side where the other two men stood drooling like hungry animals. But her fingers managed to grasp the hilt of the knife. His hand tightened on her breast, and her anger flared; she didn’t want him touching her there, where Jon had touched her such a short time ago.

All her life she’d believed killing was wrong, now she felt no compunction as she slid the knife from its sheath. She hesitated; she couldn’t reach his heart, and if she stabbed him in the side, it was unlikely to do any lasting damage.

In the end, she lifted the knife and gauged him in the side of the neck, twisting the blade as it entered.

He reared back, his hand falling from her to clutch at the knife embedded in his throat. Alex twisted away from him and ran.

Almost immediately, something slammed into her lower legs, hurling her to the ground. She rolled over but was shoved back down by a booted foot.

The furious face of the man she had stabbed stared down at her. One hand held a cloth to his neck, and she recognized the black material of her headdress.

“So I take it you don’t want it easy after all.”

The boot pressed down hard on her ribs, and this time she screamed.

…

Jon had every intention of flying away and not looking back.

Alex would be okay. She was with her own people and didn’t need his protection any more. Which was just as well because he was crap at protecting people.

Jon repeated variations of the same thought over and over in his mind on the way back to the shuttle.

But he wasn’t convincing himself.

He’d seen the hatred in the priest’s face when he’d first caught sight of Alex. The hatred had bordered on insanity. The man had hidden it quickly enough, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still there.

And what was with the mercenaries? The Church had its own army. There was no reason for them to hire mercs.

Unless it was for a job not sanctioned by the Church.

Then again, maybe their own army was spread thin searching for their lost priestess. Maybe they’d had to take on extra people.

He’d actually arrived back at the shuttle when the roar of a ship taking off broke the silence behind him. She was gone, and something inside him screamed in denial.

Then he realized only one ship had left—the priest’s. Which meant the Mark One cruiser was still here. The ship belonging to the mercs.

Why?

What reason could there be to hang around?

Plenty of reasons. Maybe the ship had a problem or...

He sat down in the pilot’s chair, leaned forward to switch on the engine, but stopped.

He’d known that he had to go back and check, even though he was almost sure he would find her gone along with the priest. And that would be that. Still, once outside the shuttle, he found himself running in the direction he had come from. All he could think was he had to save her. Protect her.

A streak of light blazed down from above, and behind him came the boom of an explosion. For a second he hesitated, glancing back to see flames roaring into the sky. The shuttle. Then he was running again.

He was almost there when the shrill scream of agony filled the air. Stripping his clothes as he raced across the sand, he didn’t think, didn’t consider his actions; he was beyond that. He shifted as he ran, until he had to pause to kick off his boots, shrug out of his pants.

Despite his fear, a wave of euphoria washed through him as his wolf scented freedom. It had been so long. His back arched as the bones snapped and realigned. There was no pain, just a feeling of rightness as finally he stood on all fours, head up sniffing the cool night air.

His senses sharpened, and his nostrils filled with the scent of blood and fear. Throwing back his head, he howled.

…

In
some part of her mind, Alex was aware she had given up, had accepted the fact of her death. But she would go down fighting.

She managed to get in a well-aimed kick, and the man swore, drew back his fist, and punched her on the side of the head. Stars flashed in front of her eyes, and she rolled onto all fours and shook her head. When she looked up, they stood in a ring around her.

They weren’t in any hurry. They knew she was beaten. Now they would take their time. Off to the right, a howl broke the silence, the eerie sound bouncing off the rocks surrounding them.

The man in front of her went still. He stared off to where the noise had come from, but when nothing further broke the silence, he turned back to her, and his hand gripped her upper arm to pull her closer.

A faint glimmer of hope had awoken deep inside, but she dismissed it. It was only her imagination that had made the sound remind her of a wolf. There was no life on this planet. No wolves to save her. Staring over his shoulder, she tried to make her mind go to another place, a far-off place.

Something stirred in the space between the rocks at the edge of the clearing, moving too fast for her to make out. Just a huge dark streak that flew through the air toward them; a brief impression of savage amber eyes and a snarling mouth, white teeth before the thing crashed into them. She was wrenched free from the grip as the man who’d held her was borne down to the ground under the weight and sheer speed of the beast.

Warm blood sprayed across her face, blinding her. She wiped her eyes clean with the back of her hand. Her attacker was dead, his throat ripped to a bloody mess.

The beast caught her gaze, and she saw a flash of humanity in the gold-flecked eyes. It leaped away, turning in midair toward where the other two men stood, shock holding them immobile.

One managed to get off a single blast with his laser. The shot went wide, and the animal slammed into him, crashing him to the ground.

Alex crawled toward the dead man and tugged his laser from the holster at his waist. She pushed herself up onto her knees, her fingers fumbling with the controls as she switched the weapon from stun to kill. The third man was trying to get a shot at the beast but the two figures rolling on the floor were inseparable, the clearing filled with snarling and snapping. He’d obviously forgotten Alex even existed. But she wanted him to see who killed him, wanted to look into his eyes as she did it.

“Hey!” she shouted.

He turned toward her. Alex braced herself and squeezed the trigger. The blast hit him square in the chest, and he went down.

She closed her eyes as shock and relief drained the last of her strength. It took her a moment to realize that the clearing had gone quiet. The fight was over, and she forced her lids open.

The men were dead. The wolf stood, legs braced, head cocked to one side, watching her.

He was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. Dark brown coat streaked with red-gold, deep amber eyes. When she didn’t move, he padded toward her. His movements slow and controlled as though he didn’t want to scare her away.

Even if she’d wanted to, she had no energy left to run.

A foot away, he stopped and looked at her again as though waiting for her to make a move. When she remained still, he sank down onto his haunches. His muzzle was stained crimson, and he licked it with a long pink tongue, flashing the biggest, whitest teeth she had ever seen. He licked his paw and cleaned his face, his golden eyes never leaving her.

Her mind was slowly starting to work again. To come back from that place of death and accept that she was going to live.

He’d saved her.

Again.

She dropped the pistol, dragged herself the short distance between them, wrapped her arms around his thick neck, and burrowed her nose in his silky fur. He smelled warm and musky, vaguely of Jon, but more of wild animal.

He’d gone still when she hugged him, but as she backed slightly away, he nudged her with his cold nose then licked at her chin with his warm tongue, washing away the blood.

When she was clean, he rose to his feet and stalked a little distance from her. She sat on the sand, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around her, and watched as the beast became a man. The change happened with ease, one form flowing into the other, the fur and claws receding. Only as he straightened to stand upright did she hear the snap as bones realigned themselves.

And Jon stood before her. Legs braced, head thrown back, fists clenched at his side.

Gloriously and totally naked.

Alex didn’t look away. If nothing else, the last hour had given her a real insight into her own mortality. She had known she was going to die.

Now she lived, and she was determined to make the most of it.

Maybe she’d never get to do more than look, and if she was honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she was up to more than looking anyway. The adrenaline rush was draining away, and every bit of her ached.

Still, she could look.

He was broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hips. His chest and shoulders bulged with muscle. More muscle ridged his flat belly. His sex hung heavy between his thighs. As she stared, it twitched and grew, filled with blood, until it stood straight, pale against the hair-roughened skin of his stomach, thick and long.

“Holy Meridian.”

He made a noise, a mix of a snort and a laugh, and her gaze shot to his face. He watched her out of half-closed eyes, gold gleaming behind thick lashes, then he stalked toward her. A foot away, he came to a halt and stood looking down at her.

Instinctively, she tugged up the bodice of her dress, covering her breasts. Jon appeared unperturbed by his own nakedness, and she wished she could be the same. Maybe it was a werewolf thing. If you had to strip off to change, you probably got used to wandering around without any clothes on. There wasn’t a single person in her entire life who had ever seen her naked.

Jon held out a hand to her, and she slipped her palm in his and allowed him to tug her to her feet. He released her hand and stroked a finger over her bruised cheek, across her swollen lower lip.

“You saved me,” she said.