Jared (9 page)

She was wrong. He could easily kill him. The bastard
had definitely planned on killing him, then probably raping her. With her
weakness, she wouldn’t have stood a chance against the brute. Stay out of it,
pumpkin.

Are you going to keep calling me silly names every
time I talk to you when you don’t want me to?

He found a small electronic device in the were’s left
pants pocket. That’s the plan.

It won’t deter me.

He didn’t imagine it would. That’s why I’ve decided to
amuse myself by seeing just how many I can come up with, sweet cheeks.

He felt the move as her hand went to her cheek.

With a glint of amusement he tacked on. Those weren’t
the cheeks I was referring to, by the way.

Another gasp and then another bit of silence before
she was back. You’re outrageous.

Nah. He slipped the device into his pocket. Just a
connoisseur of beautiful asses. Much like yourself.

Dead silence. He never knew he could sense a blush,
but Raisa’s was coming loud and clear over the connection between them—a wave
of heat and awkward feminine discomfort as she gnawed on the possibility that
he’d heard her mental litany up the mountain. He smiled. She was a cute little
thing. And finally, blessedly silent.

He removed the throwing knives from the were’s ankles.
“So, asshole, mind telling me what you’re doing up here, and why you jumped
us?”

Not surprisingly the were didn’t answer. A probe of
his mind revealed nothing other than the disturbing fact that he’d been hunting
Raisa. Jared turned the were over and searched his back pockets. The crinkle of
paper in the right one drew his fingers there. The were’s mental tension
increased. “What’s this?”

Jared pulled it free, opened it, and froze. It was a
picture of Raisa. Not the Raisa he knew with the sharp wit and terminal
optimism, but a woman with sunken, pain-filled eyes that radiated anger, but
Raisa all the same.

“What is it?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, just refolded the paper and put it
in his pocket and asked her, “Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye out for
his companions?”

“What makes you think there’re more?”

He motioned to the downed man. “Wolves travel in
packs.” The were’s start confirmed what he suspected. There were more. “He’s a
were?”

“Yes.”

“That’s better than a vampire, right?”

That was the McClarens’ and D’Nallys’ opinion. “So I’m
told.”

And he had met some weres who put all but a few
vampires to shame for fighting skill and cunning. Derek McClaren for one, and
Ian and Creed of the D’Nallys for a couple others. Jared stood. He had about
twenty minutes of paralyzing effect from the bullet before he’d have to start
watching his back. He came to Raisa’s side. Her big brown eyes studied him
warily. The picture in his pocket crinkled with incriminating insistence.

“Why couldn’t I sense him?”

He pulled the small electronic device from his pocket.
“I suspect this might have something to do with it.”

She took it from him, holding it in her open palm for
a moment before closing her fingers over it. Her eyes took on that unfocused
look that said she was concentrating inwardly.

“It has a strange vibration to its energy.”

“You can feel something?”

“Yes, now that I’m holding it.”

He took the device from her hand. He held it for a
good two minutes, concentrating, but to no avail. He didn’t feel a thing.
Absolutely nothing, which was unusual. Everything gave off some residual energy
of its function—the people who touched it, its power source. But this device
lay in his palm like dead air.

“Are you sure you’re not imagining things?” he asked
her, giving the object a squeeze.

She cut him a disgusted glare. “Positive.”

“No need to get feisty. Just asking a question.”

She stared at his closed fist. “I’ve always been
sensitive to energy.”

That was possible. Every vampire, when they turned,
developed some special skill, usually an enhancement of something they already
had. He’d never met another vampire gifted with the ability of see-and-throw
energy, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. And apparently Raisa was one of
them. That unique energy that flowed around the edges of his, slipping into the
folds with familiar ease, soothing the raw edges. Too familiarly and too
easily. If she could do with her energy what he could do with his, he needed
some distance between them until he figured out how involved she was with the
Sanctuary. She could be a Sanctuary collaborator. That would certainly explain
her resistance to killing Sanctuary warriors. Or she could be just another
victim with a soft heart, his vampire whispered, uncomfortable with anything
that put her outside its acceptance.

Jared pulled his energy away from Raisa’s. It wasn’t
as easy as it should be. A ping of hurt came from her to him. He had no reason
for the guilt that flicked through him. She reached for the device again. He
shook his head and put it in his shirt pocket. “I’ll keep this for Slade to check
out.”

He grabbed up her pack. Her energy flowed around him,
seeking a reading of his emotions. He blocked it.

None of the hurt he could sense inside her at his move
showed in her voice as she asked, “What about him?”

“I’ll take care of him in a minute.”

Her lip slid between her teeth, pressing into the
plump fullness, honing his attention. She had a gorgeous mouth—full lips behind
which he could see even white teeth. Her mouth held an appeal for him he
couldn’t afford to indulge.

“You can’t kill him.”

He shot her a look. “Why not? He was going to kill
me.”

Her jaw flexed. The flesh around her teeth glowed as
white as the gleam of the enamel on the teeth pressing into it. “It’s not
right.”

“Are you worried for my soul or yours?”

“I don’t understand?”

He walked over to where her blanket had fallen,
scooped it up, and tossed it to her. “Just what I asked. What’s your worry
about how that piece of shit dies? He wanted to kill me, rape you, so what does
it matter how he meets his end?”

She rolled the blanket up in a ball. The snow, falling
heavier now as the storm gathered, sheltered her in a swirling flurry. “Because
we’re not them. We don’t kill because it suits our purposes or makes life
easier.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I am.”

“And your point would be?”

She settled her weight into her shoes, shoulders
squared. “I can’t let you kill him in cold blood, no matter what he intended to
do.”

“You can’t?”

“No.”

“How do you intend to stop me?”

“I’m going to start by appealing to your moral
barometer, and then I’ll resort to physical methods.”

He shook his head, marveling at the woman’s ego. She
barely reached the center of his chest and was about as big around as a
match-stick. On top of that there were dark smudges under her eyes, her skin
was pasty white, and every time the wind gusted she shivered. And she was going
to get physical with him?

“You go right ahead, then, and give it your best
shot.” He took the rifle from her. The fact that she didn’t even try to hold on
to it showed how poorly prepared she was for a battle. He glanced over at the
were before looking pointedly back at her. “You might want to turn your back so
your scruples won’t be offended.”

“Why? If I let you do this, turning my back won’t
alleviate my culpability.”

“But it might spare your sensibilities.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

He steeled himself against the energy radiating off
her. It wasn’t easy. The soft strands of feminine entreaty slid neatly between
his darker rage, wrapping around the edges, tugging them away from the black
burn of anger and into the gray area of his conscience.

“Give it up, Raisa.”

“You keep telling me that.”

“Because it’s your only option.”

She shook her head, her hand completely dwarfed by the
folds of the blanket clenched in her tight fist. It was a small hand, white and
dainty. Not particularly beautiful, not particularly elegant, just a normal
hand belonging to a normal woman, so there was absolutely no reason for his
gaze to be locked on it or for an uncomfortable feeling to take up residence in
his gut.

“I have others.” She walked toward him, her steps
carefully measured, her gaze locked on the were. When she got within two steps
of the man, Jared put himself in her path. She didn’t slow, didn’t look up,
just stepped around him and kept going. He was torn between grabbing her arm
and waiting to see what she would do. Curiosity won out.

She stopped halfway between him and the were and
turned around, still holding the blanket in front of her like a shield, that
chin set at an angle that defined stubborn. “Let’s just go.”

“What? Suddenly you’re in a hurry to go with me?”

“Considering the alternative, absolutely.”

Her eyes were suspiciously moist. The uncomfortable
feeling in his stomach intensified. Guilt. She was actually making him feel
guilty for doing what needed to be done. Son of a bitch. In four quick strides
he was beside her and at the were’s side, his talons extended. He only needed
one swipe to sever the were’s head from his body. In an equally fast move,
Raisa was attached to his arm like a leech, her stomach curling dangerously
close to the razor-sharp edges of his talons. He swore and retracted them
immediately, grabbing her by the back of her coat and holding her up. Shock was
the predominate emotion on her face as he warned, “Don’t you ever do something
so foolish again.”

The snarl in his order lingered in his chest. She’d
come damn close to getting her abdomen laid open. He tossed her a safe distance
to the side. She landed on her feet, a sleek little cat who darted between him
and his quarry once again. “No, Jared.”

His teeth snapped together at her persistence. He kept
his voice as even as possible as he laid out the facts. “It’s not your
decision.”

She spread her arms wide, as if a
three-and-a-half-foot span of slender muscle was a barrier to anything he wanted
to do. “You can’t do this.”

He took a breath, the raw flick of her emotions
churning his own. He didn’t like her so close to the paralyzed were. Frozen or
not, the other man represented danger, and Jared’s instincts demanded he be
between Raisa and any threat, no matter how slight. “If I don’t, in about
twenty minutes he’s going to be on our asses hunting us.”

Her arms lowered. “We’ll outdistance him.”

“Uh-huh.” Was she crazy? He watched the were. At the
first twitch of muscle, he was dead. “You’re too weak.”

“Then you can leave me behind.”

Crazy didn’t begin to cover it. His head snapped up.
“Not a chance in hell.”

“That’s my choice.”

He shook his head, adding a mental thrust to his flat
declaration. That had been decided the minute he’d laid eyes on her. “No, it’s
not.”

Raisa opened her mouth to argue, and then froze. She
spun to the right, and then just as quickly to the left, her chin lifting, her
focus intensifying in a subtle surge of energy.

“Oh heck.”

“What?”

“They’re coming.”

“Who?” Or maybe he should have asked what?

“More weres.”

“How many?”

She closed her eyes and concentrated. She opened them,
anxiety shadowing her big brown eyes as they met his. “Five.”

Shit. “ ‘Oh heck’ means we’re about to be knee-deep in
enemies?”

“Yes.”

“Oh heck” meant a woman broke a nail, put a run in her
stocking. It did not mean they were about to be overrun by Sanctuary.

“I really need to teach you to swear.”

She grabbed his hand. “We have to leave.”

They couldn’t go anywhere until he determined which
way to run. He scanned and detected nothing. “Are you sure your nerves aren’t
acting up?”

“I’m not the nervous type.”

No, she wasn’t. She yanked his arm in a frantic bid to
get him in motion. When he didn’t move, she gave another tug and grunted, “I
really can feel them.”

“I can’t.”

“I can’t help it if your senses aren’t as developed as
mine.”

His first instinct was to dismiss the claim, no one
had better senses than him, but then he paused. Raisa had never been anything
but brutally honest. Even when it was to her detriment. Disarmingly so. And
there was no way she could hide the distress coming off her in waves or the
nervous flicks of energy surging right and left. Either she was a damn good
actress or she really could sense what he couldn’t.

Shit. They were a good two days’ run from a known
Renegade stronghold, which only left them one option. The D’Nallys’ secret back
door entrance. Using that was as likely to get him killed as standing here
waiting for trouble to show up. Shit, again. He turned the gun on the were and
fired.