Part 9 (1/2)

Michael admired her courage, but she didn't need to play the stoic warrior with him, not when there was something he could do to help her. He jumped to his feet and headed for the door. ”Be right back,” he promised.

There had to be a first-aid kit around here somewhere!

True to his word, he returned within minutes, clutching a bright red first-aid kit. ”Found this in a restroom,” he explained breathlessly. Selene guessed that he had sprinted all over the building before he'd found the kit.

He dropped to his knees in front of her and popped open the kit. She was struck by his obvious sense of purpose as he rummaged through the kit for what he needed. He really was a born healer, even after everything that had happened to him. She recalled how he had selflessly rescued her from drowning three nights ago and bound her wounds after Lucian had stabbed her with that spring-loaded blade of his. He didn't even know my name then, but he still risked his life to save me. He had done the same for that mortal girl who had been caught in the cross fire during the gun battle at the Metro station. Selene remembered Michael das.h.i.+ng across the platform to see to the girl, despite the bullets flying back and forth across the station. She had taken note of his bravery then. She was even more impressed now.

I've never known anyone like him.

He turned toward her, his hands full of clean dressings and antiseptic wipes. His brown eyes radiated care and compa.s.sion. She couldn't help being touched, and more, by his anxious concern for her well-being, even though she was not really in need of his ministrations. The vicious burns were already healing; all that remained of the searing pain was a faint stinging sensation. Still, she let him gently lay his hand against her cheek and turn her face toward him, so that he could see for himself that her injuries were all but pa.s.sed. He gaped in surprise as the last reddened patch of skin grew smooth and white once more. She almost laughed at his dumbfounded expression.

”See.” She raised her hands to show him her unblemished knuckles. ”No need.”

His initial shock gave way to obvious relief. His eyes brightened as he gave her an impish grin. ”You don't need much of anything, do you?”

I'm not sure, she thought, suddenly at a loss for words. The moment hung between them, laden with possibility. He put down his first-aid supplies and looked into her eyes. His deep brown orbs seemed to drink her in. Vampires didn't blush, but Selene felt her blood rus.h.i.+ng beneath his ardent gaze. She knew how much she meant to him, how much he wanted to take care of her. Not because he was a doctor, but because of the undeniable chemistry between them. For once, it seemed, their enemies were far away. No pressing danger threatened them with immediate extinction. It was just the two of them, alone together.

Selene was no virgin. Over her six hundred years, curiosity-and loneliness-had lured her into the occasional carnal encounter with another vampire; not every immortal was a pig like Kraven, after all. But such liaisons had been infrequent and always without consequence, temporary indulgences quickly put behind her. She had shared her body, but never her heart.

Now, with Michael, she didn't know what she felt. Everything had changed for her, including the ironclad code of conduct by which she had long governed her ageless existence. The prospect was both thrilling and terrifying.

Do I want this?

Taking her silence as consent, Michael leaned forward and kissed her. She responded tentatively for the first few heartbeats, then parted her lips to accept him. His own lips were warmer than any vampire lover's. Just like his blood.

He pulled her to him with surprising strength. Her pa.s.sion rose and she surrendered to the moment. Their mouths still locked in a ravenous kiss, she peeled off his jacket and the tattered remains of his s.h.i.+rt. Her hands explored his naked chest, discovering that his bullet wounds had long since healed. The unmarred flesh was hot and irresistible to her touch.

She shrugged off her voluminous trench coat, which joined the borrowed blanket upon the floor of the trailer. ”Help me,” she entreated huskily as she tugged on the zippers of her tight black leathers. The tailored bodysuit was like a second skin, but suddenly she couldn't get it off fast enough. Michael's skillful hands came to her a.s.sistance, and the leather slid from her body, leaving her exposed and vulnerable before his gaze. His eyes gratefully devoured every inch of her bare white skin. He gazed at her in wonder.

Selene felt a wall crumble inside her, falling away just like her discarded clothes. She fell back against the blanket and scattered pieces of clothing. Her pale arms reached out for him. Michael kicked off his soggy trousers and joined her upon the makes.h.i.+ft bed, resting his weight atop her pliant curves. Their skin brushed together in a tantalizing caress. Her fingers stroked the firm, masculine contours of his back. His hungry mouth found her breast.

There was no biting, no sinking of fangs into tender flesh. Her blood already flowed through his veins, and his through hers. Instead they made love as mortals did, gasping and panting as their intertwined bodies came together again and again. Yes, she thought rapturously, as they ascended the heights of pa.s.sion, this is how it had to be. Today she didn't want to be a vampire, a Death Dealer.

Only a woman.

Nestled in the forest, along the side of the road, the mouth of a concrete drainage tunnel protruded from the bottom of a snow-covered ridge. Ice water trickled along the floor of the tunnel, pa.s.sing through a carpet of dead leaves, silt, and animal droppings. The fetid air within the shaft stank of p.i.s.s and rot. The dank cement walls were coated with slime and mold. It was a far cry from the luxurious accommodations Marcus was accustomed to.

He dragged himself along the floor of the tunnel, retreating from the dawn. Despite the changes he had undergone of late, he was still enough of a vampire to fear the sun. Vengeance on Selene and her hybrid lover would have to wait until nightfall.

His mutilated wings sc.r.a.ped against the roof of the tunnel. They were already healing, but the sharp pains radiating through his shattered pinions stoked the anger burning within his breast. He cursed himself for letting go of the pendant when Selene had unleashed her gunfire upon him. The prize had been within his grasp, and yet he had let it slip away.

Tonight, he vowed. When the sun went down again, nothing would stop him from reclaiming the pendant-and making Selene and Michael Corvin pay for their defiance. He gnashed his fangs as he inched farther into the dark recesses of the vile tunnel.

Tonight...

Chapter Thirteen.

Sergeant Sandor Hadik was not in a good mood.

His head hurt from where that dark-haired woman had clobbered him. He was cold and wet from lying unconscious in the snow for at least an hour. A wanted fugitive was missing. And he had no idea what was going on.

How the h.e.l.l am I going to explain this in my report? he fretted. Any of it?

He and his fellow officers searched the woods for Michael Corvin and his female accomplice. Despite the brilliant sunlight filtering down through the tree branches, the morning was still bitterly cold. His breath frosted in front of his lips as he trekked through the snow. Judging from the sullen expressions on the faces of the three other men, they were just as angry and confused as he was. Fresh cuts and bruises made them look as though they had just been beaten up by a large gang of toughs, not a solitary female.

Who was that b.i.t.c.h? And how come Michael Corvin was still alive anyway? The last thing Hadik remembered was he and the other policemen filling the American lunatic full of lead. They must have hit him nearly a dozen times, yet when they had come to, their heads and battered bodies aching, they had found only a puddle of frozen blood where Corvin's body had been. What's more, two sets of tracks had led away from the site.

He tried not to think about thethird set of tracks they had seen, the ones that looked like the spoor of some ferocious beast, just as he tried not to remember the American's impossible black eyes and fangs. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered the stories his grandmother had told him when he was just a child, about ghosts and vampires and werewolves. Such things do not exist, he reminded himself. I must have been seeing things.

”Sergeant! Over here!”

The rookie, Olszanski, called excitedly. Hadik and the other men rushed to join him. They emerged from a fringe of trees to find themselves on a narrow road leading up to an old mine shaft at the base of a rocky hill. Hadik vaguely remembered a bauxite-mining operation that had been tapped out and abandoned back when he was a kid. The door to the sealed-off mine was hanging open. Although fresh snow continued to fall from the sky, he could still see the vague imprints of footprints outside the entrance of the mine.

Had Corvin and the woman taken refuge in the old tunnels? It made sense; they could hardly stay outside in this weather forever. Maybe they were in there right now?

”Follow me!” he ordered gruffly. He unclipped a flashlight from his belt and drew his service revolver. Despite his bluff manner, his nerves were on edge as they approached the unlit entrance to the mine. He was in no hurry to face either Corvin or that woman again. Those eerie black eyes and wolflike fangs haunted his memory. He glanced at the bruises on his comrades' faces. The ugly purple marks didn't make him any less spooked.

How had one woman managed to take out four armed cops?

Their flashlights probed the darkened mine. Startled gasps and exclamations burst from the men as the intersecting beams fell upon the face of an enormous wolf. Unblinking cobalt eyes glared at them. Dagger-sized fangs gleamed between the beast's open jaws.

”Holy Mother-!” Hadik almost opened fire on the wolf, before he realized that the animal was neither moving nor making any sort of sound. ”Hold your fire!” he called out to the other men. ”I think it's dead!”

His heart racing, he swept his flashlight beam over the s.h.a.ggy monstrosity. To his relief, he saw that the wolf-thing was hanging lifelessly inside some sort of cage. Lowering his gun, he breathed for the first time in several seconds. His shoulders drooped as he gave his heart a few minutes to slow down. Christ, he thought, that thing almost gave me a coronary!

The other cops lowered their weapons as well. Hadik figured it was a minor miracle that there weren't already bullets ricocheting around the mine. Olszanski stared at the suspended creature with wide, fearful eyes. ”Sergeant?” he asked, a quaver in his voice. ”What is that thing?”

h.e.l.l if I know, Hadik thought. The carca.s.s had the head of a wolf, complete with pointed ears and a protruding muzzle, but its body looked more like a man's, built for walking erect. Fearsome claws dangled at the end of the monster's sinewy limbs. It was at least eight feet tall, larger than any wolf or human he was familiar with. Some sort of ape? No, that wasn't quite right. There was something distinctly canine about the beast's head and paws. It's a werewolf, his brain shrieked at him, but he couldn't bring himself to say that word aloud. What was that old saying again? Speak of the wolf and you will see his teeth.

”Maybe it's a fake,” Officer Andra.s.sy said. He had a reputation for creative thinking. ”A prop for a horror movie?”

”It looks real enough to me,” Hadik grunted. He swept his flashlight around the rest of the old mine shaft, which had obviously been refurbished at some point. His jaw dropped at the sight of a computerized communications center, a tray full of b.l.o.o.d.y surgical implements, and enough guns and ammunition to fight a war. Racks of automatic weapons lined the walls. Packets of whole blood rested on a nearby counter.

Oh my G.o.d, he thought. What the h.e.l.l have we stumbled into?

”It's a terrorist base!” Olszanski blurted. ”Corvin and the woman...they're terrorists!”

”Or CIA,” Andra.s.sy added. ”He's an American, remember?”

The fourth policeman, Latja, just shook his head in disbelief.

Oddly enough, Hadik found all this talk of spies and terrorists strangely comforting. Terrorism was a fact of life, nothing supernatural about it. Unlike, say, certain mythological creatures...

In any event, his course was clear. ”We need to call this in,” he said decisively. ”Back to our cars, on the double!” A thought occurred to him and he turned toward the rookie. ”Olszanski, you stay here and watch the exit. Don't let anyone leave or enter until we get back. You got that?”