Not Quite Dead (A NightHunter Novel) (31 page)

Grimly, he looked out at the world of daylight he'd taken for granted for three hundred years. No longer. He fisted his hand and began to call more magic to him, needing to see how well he could protect himself from the sun. Could he shield himself long enough to search for Tristan?

"Eric?" Jordyn's voice broke through his reverie, and he spun around, startled that he hadn't sensed her coming.

She was on the bottom step, wearing a pair of faded jeans he hadn't seen before, and a hot pink tank top that reminded him of the one she'd been wearing in the jungle the day they'd met. Her hair was in a ponytail, her feet were bare, and she had no makeup on. She was pure earth and nature, simply a woman.

And she was beautiful.

His gut clenched, but he didn't move toward her. How was it possible for him to need another human being this badly? "You okay?" he asked, his voice gruffer than he'd intended.

She nodded, her gaze searching his. "We need some stakes."

His own heart seemed to burn at her comment, and he instinctively channeled energy toward his chest to protect it. "Really? Stakes work?"

She shook her head. "Ordinary ones don't do much. They must be engraved with certain runes. I'm going to go look through my grandmother's book and see if I can find the right design. If you can get us the wood, then I'll work on the designs." Her gaze flicked toward the broken picture window. "I don't want to kill Tristan," she said softly. "I'm hoping my grandmother's book has another way."

He narrowed his eyes. "What exactly is in your grandmother's book?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "She never let me read it." She glanced at the fridge, and a sudden yearning flashed across her face. "Is there any food? I'm starving."

He noticed then how drained she looked. What kind of a bastard was he? After all she'd been through, she needed sleep and food to heal, not endure a lovemaking session that was so passionate that it had pretty much flatlined him as well.

She frowned. "Eric? Did you hear me? About the food?"

He nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak. All he wanted to do was drop to his knees at her feet and declare himself to her, to pledge his oath to protect her for all eternity, to ensure her incredible spirit would be forever safe from creatures like him. "I'll find something for you to eat," he finally said.

"Okay, thanks." She hesitated, as if she were going to say something else, then she shook her head and walked into the dining room where her grandmother's book lay on the table.

Eric slumped against the counter and closed his eyes. How the hell was he going to be around her without throwing her over his shoulder, vaulting up the stairs, and losing himself in her until the rest of the world ceased to exist? His attraction to her was so strong that—

His eyes snapped open with sudden realization. His response to Jordyn was the same as his response to Jane and the other woman. It hadn't started that way with Jordyn, but something had changed. His entire soul burned for her on every level of his being. Stunned, he backed away from the dining room where she was pulling out a chair. He could see her bending over the book as she opened the front cover. He saw the delicate curve of her neck, the tilt of her nose, the soft waves of her ponytail as it curled around her neck. The world disappeared until it was only her, until his entire body howled with the need to go to her.

"Shit." He stumbled backward toward the door. He needed to get out. He couldn't do this to her. He reached the backdoor, and put his hand on the knob. He could feel the heat from the sun burning his back. Would he even make it to the woods? Could he get that far?

He pulled the door open, and his skin began to sear. He tried to weave a protective spell over his body, but he couldn't keep his focus long enough to do it. Shit! He would die if he left the house. He could tell he'd never make it to the woods. But if he stayed...would he kill her? Would he disintegrate her? Where was the knife? Did she still have it? He saw it then on the floor by the dishwasher, right where he'd swept her up in his arms before they'd made love.

"Jordyn," he rasped out. "Get the knife.
Now.
"

At his sharp command, Jordyn looked up quickly. Her eyes widened, and then she leapt up, her face etched with concern. "Eric. What's wrong?"

"Get my knife." He jerked his chin at it, gritting his teeth against the pain in his back. "Just get it now."

She ran over and picked it up. "What's happening to you?"

"You. It's you. It's the same. Like it was with Jane." How could this be happening? He had been so sure it was different with her. But he could feel the haunting, relentless drive to possess her. It was so much more than sex. It was a pulsating attraction that came from somewhere so deep inside him that he couldn't even source it. It was beyond him, beyond who he was, beyond anything he could control.

Realization flooded her face, and she paled. "It can't be. It has to be different."

"I need you." Three simple words, but he poured all his feeling into them, showing her the depths of his need for her.

Her cheeks flushed, and a smile erupted on her face. "Wow. No one has ever needed me like that before."

He blinked at her cheerful demeanor. "What?"

She shrugged. "It's kind of intoxicating." She held out her arm. "Goosebumps, see?"

Why the hell was she standing there, watching him like he was some fascinating science experiment? "Get the knife ready, Jordyn."

She made a face. "No. No knife. Not today."

Hell. What was wrong with her? "Don't you get it? I'm about to disintegrate you. That's not a healthy kind of wanting."

"Yes, it is." She lowered the knife and walked over to him. "It's different, Eric." She placed her hand on his cheek, her touch cool and soothing against his hot skin.

He closed his eyes, his body stiffening. "Babe, you gotta back off. Really."

"Babe? I'm not a babe." She lightly smacked her palm against his cheek. "My name is Jordyn, you arrogant male, and you are not about to turn me into a billion screaming particles of suffering and torment."

He opened his eyes to find her grinning at him, her eyes sparkling. "What in the hell is wrong with you?"

"Lots of stuff," she said cheerfully. "A lot more than you know. I have a lot of baggage, even for a woman. But—" She poked his chest. "—
you
are not one of my problems right now. Don't you recognize what you're doing?"

He wrapped his hand around her index finger and pointed it away from him. "I'm trying to save your life. Most women would find that an admirable quality in a guy, instead of trying to talk him out of it."

"It would be admirable, but that's not what you're doing." She wrapped her hand around his, her fingers a warm temptation. "What you're doing is projecting your fears about the past onto the present, even though the situation is different. You need to evaluate the present and see this moment only for what it is."

He couldn't stop the slow grin from curving his mouth. "Therapy again?" Why did he find it so damn cute when she tried to heal his damaged psyche? "It's like you actually believe that you can save me."

"Don't be ridiculous. Only you can save yourself. All I can do is point your stubborn head in the right direction, and kick you. The rest is up to you." She raised her brows. "Seriously, Eric, I can see it in your eyes. You're nowhere near that state of being about to disintegrate me. I've seen you do that, and you're not there right now." She beamed at him. "You're just finally acknowledging to yourself that I'm really fantastic, and you can't resist my charms. You burn for me desperately, and it scares you, because you're a stereotypical guy who wants to be an emotional island. It's not deadly. It's just called goddess worship."

He laughed, his tension easing away at her lighthearted demeanor. He realized she was right. His skin wasn't shadowy, and the voices weren't deafening. He just liked her? That's what this was? Weird. He had no experience with feeling this way at all. "Goddess worship? Is that what I'm doing? You're the goddess?"

"In your eyes, yes. Others might call it love, but since we both know you aren’t capable, we'll just call it goddess worship. You've realized how great I am, and it's making you panic." She patted his cheek. "So, stop being so melodramatic. Go get some wood, and come back here, okay? We kind of need to focus." Her smile faded. "Tonight's the night, Eric. I don't know what's going to happen."

His amusement faded, and he flipped his hand over so he was holding hers. "We need more information about Cicatrice. We need to know what we're facing." Love? Had she really just used the L word and himself in the same sentence? The woman never listened to him.

She nodded, tightening her fingers in his. "My grandmother knew a lot about him. I'm going to look him up in her book as well." She glanced at the clock over the kitchen sink. "The sun will set in fourteen hours."

Eric's gaze flicked involuntarily to the trees. "It's possible," he said, "that we may not be so safe. Maybe neither Cicatrice nor Tristan have to sleep during the day."

Sudden alarm flashed across her face. "You mean, like you."

He shrugged. "I'm wide awake, and the sun's out."

She looked past him at the yard, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Does the sun affect you?"

He nodded, unwilling to hide anything from her. "It burns me now."

"Wow." She rubbed her chin, contemplating the information, but apparently not remotely fazed by his confession. "So, maybe the sun is like a moat around this house? Protection until sunset, even if they're awake?"

"Hopefully." He sighed. "It also traps me inside, though, like a monster in a cage." It made him impotent, and he didn't like that.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "You're not a monster. I'm getting really tired of you saying that." She poked him lightly in the chest, and he grabbed her hand, trapping her palm against him. "You, my dear Eric, are just a guy with some issues. Everyone has issues, right? So, you're sort of a vampire. Big deal, right? There are worse things, like being an insufferable adulterer, for example. What woman wants that in a man?"

He grinned, unable to contain his amusement at her perspective. "A bloodthirsty vampire is preferable to a guy who sleeps around?"

She rolled her eyes. "You even have to ask? Men, they just don't get women." She stood on her tiptoes, her eyes turning sultry. "Do you have any idea how sexy it is when you bare those fangs at me?" She pressed a kiss to his throat, and a rush of sudden lust roared through him. "Or when you bite me?" She kissed the corner of his mouth, and he went utterly still, poised in delicious anticipation.

Her lips feathered over his in a heated promise. "Or when you—"

A car horn blared outside, and she jumped, smashing her forehead into his teeth. He grunted, and she grimaced, pressing her fingers to her head. "Sorry, I just—"

"Jordyn!" David shouted, his voice hoarse and rasping. "Help me!"

Eric turned in time to see David's truck come to a stop by the back door. The hood of the truck was smashed, as if he'd driven straight into a tree, and the windshield was shattered, a thousand fractures barely holding together.

The entire right side of the truck was dented and covered in dark red smears of...blood.

Eric and Jordyn moved at the same moment, sprinting for the door. He yanked it open and she ran through just as David kicked open his door. Adrenaline galvanized Eric, and his magic swathed him in a protective barrier as he sprinted out into the sunlight. David fell out of the truck, landing on his hands and knees. His clothes were covered in blood, and there was a ten-inch gash on his forearm.

"David!" She lunged for him, but Eric was there first, catching him as he collapsed. David's skin was ice cold, and his eyes were bloodshot.

David grabbed the front of Eric's shirt, his fingers a vice grip too strong for someone who'd lost as much blood as was on his clothes. The coppery smell of the blood was penetrating, and Eric knew it was fresh. He experienced a brief moment of relief that the smell didn't make him want to pull out a napkin and start dining on anyone, and then David twisted in his arms, trying to get away. "Get away from me," David ordered, reacting as if Eric were a threat.

"Stay still," Eric ordered. "Tell me what happened."

David stared at him for a moment, his eyes moving rapidly over Eric as if assessing him in great detail. Apparently satisfied, he nodded. "You can help."

"Help with what?" Eric didn't even move as Jordyn ran up beside him, bumping his arm. Her contact distracted him for a split second, and he felt the sun burning his arm. Swearing, he reinforced his shields, the urgency of the situation feeding him enough strength to keep the sun at bay.

"Get the woman out of the back," David gasped as he tried to throw Eric backward. "I'll get Richard. You get her! Bring her inside! We have to hurry!"

"Who?" Eric looked over his shoulder at the truck, not letting go of David until he knew whose blood was on him. Just because Jordyn trusted him didn't mean he was going to jump on that bandwagon. He lowered his mental shields ever so slightly, allowing David's energy to roll over him. Fear. Desperation. Anguish. There was no doubt that something bad had happened, and that David was reeling. "What's going on?"

"They're going to die," David gasped. "We have less than five minutes!" He shoved at Eric again. "Hurry. She's in the back of the truck."

She
'
s
in the back of the truck? A
woman's
blood was all over David? Protectiveness surged through Eric, and he threw David into Jordyn's arms. "Take him!"

Jordyn caught him as Eric shoved the driver's seat forward to get to the back of the cab. A man in his early twenties was tied up in the back seat. His eyes were closed, and his skin was pale, deathly pale. Instinctively, Eric's gaze went to his neck, and he saw two tiny pinpricks. He grabbed the man and lifted him out. "What happened to him?"