Page 49 of Blood Mosaic

Their attackers shouted and turned to flee, but Oleg flung the knife that had been meant for Tatyana into the back of one man as he ran, then pulled another man into his arms, embracing him and grabbing the man’s blade as the human’s clothes burst into flame and he fell screaming and writhing to the ground.

Tatyana crouched down as Oleg moved calmly around the alley at vampire speed, disarming each man, twisting their necks, and letting them fall to the ground in smoking heaps as he destroyed each and every human who had threatened them.

His fangs were down, and at one point he sank his teeth into the neck of one man, ripping out his artery with a fast jerk of his teeth as blood sprayed in the face of the man next to him.

By the time that human could suck in a blood-misted breath, his neck was cut, blood was pouring down his front, and he collapsed at Oleg’s feet.

Within moments, the nine humans who had tried to attack them were dead, and Tatyana was running out of the alley, her bag clutched to her chest, not even sparing a glance as Oleg picked up a body, tore off the human’s shirt, and wiped his face and chest to clean off the blood.

She left him alone in the alley, his wool pants singed and hanging loose on his hips, his shirt and sweater utterly destroyed. The evening fog rolled in, soothing the biting pain of his heated skin as his fire died back, kissing the edge of his jaw before she melted away. He smelled the acrid hint of burned hair and knew he’d lost a little bit of his beard.

Pity.

Oleg listened to Tatyana’s footsteps racing around the corner and down the street. He heard her panting breaths and panicked hiccups as she ran toward the brightly lit intersection where the ambulance had passed a few minutes before. There were cars waiting at the light.

“Taxi!” She screamed it from a block away and he heard that too. He closed his eyes and waited for the door to slam and the car to speed away.

Oleg let her run.

She’d seen the monster now. He would find her soon enough.

Chapter Twelve

This cannot be real. That was a fever dream. A nightmare.

Her wrist was bruised from the pinch of her own fingers.

This is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up.

“Lady, you need help?”

She stared straight ahead, afraid to look out the windows in case Oleg was chasing her.

“Can you take me home, please?” Her voice sounded like she was speaking into a hollow tube.

“Give me the address and I’ll take you anywhere.” The man turned around, examining her, even as the cars started to honk behind him. “You need a hospital? The police?”

“Just go,” she whispered. If she closed her eyes, would she wake up? “Please go very fast.”

“Is someone chasing you?”

“Please just go!” She recited her address by rote, and the drive didn’t even balk at how far away from the city center he was going to have to drive.

“Okay, okay—relax.” He started moving. “See? The traffic is going now.”

Tatyana’s heart would not slow down.

Oleg knew where she lived, but she had to go home. Her mother was at home. She needed to get her mother and run.

But how was she going to run… fromthat?

Oleg didn’t have a phone. Mika probably did. Maybe she could get to her mother before Oleg could call Mika.

“Close your eyes, volchitsa.”

“Oh God.” Tatyana bent over, resisting the gagging urge to vomit when images flashed in her mind.

Dead eyes. Showers of blood. There had been an arm—a torn-off arm—on the cobblestones and rivulets of blood running down the seams of the street like rain.

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