Page 38 of Mortal Heart

As she stepped carefully into the lobby, she saw a group of black-clad Nyx security guards and vampires between them and the club’s main doors. The dhampirs had frozen in place, while the vamps seemed more wary and apprehensive—and very interested in figuring out what Ronan was. Arkady could empathize with the latter. She eyed the vamps and tried not to let on that she was having trouble standing without swaying.

“My human lover and I came here tonight for entertainment,” Ronan rumbled. “Instead, we were attacked by demons who circumvented your security with ease and inflicted injuries. I demand redress for this outrage.”

His voice had that same haughty, formal edge she’d heard back at the Pelican, like a king addressing peasants. He also sounded strange, as if several people were speaking at once rather than a single voice, and his icy tone made her want to rub her arms to banish the chill. His emphasis onhuman loververy strongly implied he wasn’t human, as if his power and aura hadn’t already made that clear. And he’d taken on this imperious persona with very suspicious ease.

“My…lord,” one of the vampires said, clearly unsure who he was addressing or what Ronan’s proper title might be. “Our sincerest apologies. Nyx has never experienced such a breach in security. We have no explanation—”

Ronan somehow seemed to grow another half a foot. His glower made the vampire take a half step back. “I have no interest in hearing your excuses. You will beg our forgiveness and remove yourselves from our path.”

The vamps exchanged glances. “My lord, if you will but wait a few moments—” the same vampire began.

Ronan took two steps forward. Arkady stayed at his side, her knees locked to keep from stumbling. The vamps and guards took a collective step back.

“Was I not clear that we are leaving the premises?” Ronan asked, his voice now quiet and exceedingly dangerous. “You are fortunate I am more concerned with my lover’s well-being than in destroying this vermin-infested pit.”

The shadows he’d summoned hid it from the others, but Arkady saw lines of strain in Ronan’s face. Whatever he was doing, it took a lot of power. Maybe too much. And the longer they stood here, the more dangerous it became. If the illusion broke, they’d be neck-deep in a shit stew in a hurry.

She gritted her teeth. “My lord,” she said, letting her voice quaver. “I feel faint.” She let her aching legs give way and collapsed.

She wasn’t surprised in the least that he caught her well before she hit the floor—or that he put her over his shoulder so he’d have his hands free to fight if need be. At least her shorts covered her ass just enough that she didn’t flash her lady bits at the vamps, which she supposed was worth something. She’d opted to go this route to expedite their departure, but even so she was so pissed at being hauled around like a sack of potatoes that her eyeballs felt hot.

Ronan’s whole body trembled with the strain of maintaining his aura of power. How long before the aura faded, or he stumbled? He had to be down to sheer force of will at this point.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, Ronan strode toward the front doors. “We are leaving,” he said coldly. The vamps and enforcers moved aside.

They were only a few feet from freedom when Daniela appeared from a hallway to their left, flanked by two other vampires Arkady recognized as Farrell’s assistant managers. “Stop!” Daniela shouted.

With a bellow that made Arkady’s hair stand on end, Ronan charged through the club’s front doors like a bull. She couldn’t reach her own knives, so she pulled one of Ronan’s hidden blades and threw it. She worried her aim would be off because Ronan was running, but the blade still caught Daniela square in the throat. She went down gurgling.

Once they got outside the club, where a hundred witnesses waited behind the velvet rope, she figured the vamps wouldn’t make a scene by chasing them or firing their weapons.

She’d figured wrong.

Ronan sent Ivan the doorman flying with a kick and he stayed down, but two vampires emerged from the club, guns drawn. They fired a half dozen shots. The bullets missed by inches. Bystanders screamed and ran for cover.

Hanging over Ronan’s shoulder as he ran down the club’s front steps was killing her ribs, but if he slowed to put her down, that might be the end of them both. On the other hand, she had no intention of getting shot tonight, especially while being carried over someone’s shoulder with her ass in the air.

They made it to Ronan’s Harley just as another gunshot rang out. Ronan grunted, swung Arkady around, and dropped her roughly onto the seat behind him. She wrapped her arms around his middle as he started the bike and took off so quickly that she almost lost her grip. Their helmets remained behind on the street.

His vest was slippery. Under a streetlight, she looked at her hand. It was covered with blood.

“You’re hit!” she shouted over the bike’s engine.

“No shit,” he said through what sounded like gritted teeth. “I think it’s lodged in my ribs.” He let out a groan that she felt rather than heard because of the motorcycle. “It’s spelled. Feels like black magic. Probably for tracking.”

Grimly, she recalled the single shot just before they’d gotten on the bike. Now it made sense. That shot wasn’t designed to kill, but to provide a way for the vamps to find them.

“Can’t you heal the wound like you did your hand earlier?” she asked, her mouth close to his ear.

“Apparently not,” he replied. “The spellwork on the bullet interferes with my ability to heal.”

She had a healing spell that might stop the bleeding, but it wouldn’t get the bullet out. Not that she could use it while they were moving anyway. No matter what he was, he wouldn’t be able to keep them upright during the magic and pain of the spell.

“We need help,” she told him.

“I’m not bringing the vamps to Alice’s door.”

“I wasn’t thinking of Alice,” she retorted. “We need black magic to fight black magic. We’re going to see a witch.”

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