Page 27 of Silent Nights and Vampire Lights

The man led me to a black, late model sedan with tinted windows parked in the back of the lot in the shadows. Another man, younger, with dark hair, jeans, and a leather jacket, waited outside, leaning on the car. He straightened when we came out.

“What about the other guy?”

My escort shrugged. “Gone. Let’s get out of here before he shows up.”

The driver opened the back door, and my escort manhandled me towards it. Then he was gone. The driver gasped and looked around, panicked, for his partner. There was a terrified yell from the bushes just beyond the car that was abruptly cut off. The driver started to shake.

“Get in the fucking car. Now.”

He grabbed me and began pulling me, but that yell had shaken me out of my stupor. I struggled, fought for my life, because that was what I was doing. If I got in that car, I was dead. There was no employer that I was talking to. There was no one who wanted to speak with me. They were going to kill me. I knew it. These guys knew it, not matter how pleasant they had made it sound. Nick knew it. I couldn’t give it. I could live as Kate Morgan. I could survive.

I kicked out, catching the man in the thigh, just missing between his legs, but it was enough to loosen his hold. “Bitch.”

I wrenched free, but this time I wasn’t going to run. I didn’t know if I could fight, but I was going to try. I was done running. He laughed, a low, sinister sound that sent chills up and down my spine.

“You think you can beat me, little girl? You need your friend, and I don’t see him anywhere around.”

But I saw Nick. He had risen up from the bushes like an avenging angel, a stream of blood trickling down from one side of his mouth and his eyes gleaming red in the night. He stalked forward, a low growl coming from his throat. I took an involuntary step back, even though I knew he would never hurt me. But he was pissed.

The driver, sensing something or someone was behind him, slowly turned. He saw Nick and, before I could evade him, grabbed me, wrapping an arm around my throat, and pulled me in front of him.

“Back off, buddy, or I’ll kill her.”

Nick only kept stalking forward, that low growl growing louder, his fangs on full display. The driver dragged me back until we were pinned against the car. “I mean it.”

Screw this. I wasn’t a damsel in distress. I stomped my foot on his instep, and he howled in pain, his hold loosening. I dropped, throwing him off balance, then rolled away when his hold broke.

Nick took advantage, leaping over the car, grabbing him by the throat, and flinging him over the car and into the bushes where his friend was. He then followed, and I heard a scream, cutoff by a gurgle, then silence.

I dragged myself to my feet and leaned against the car, cataloguing my fresh bruises. Not too bad this time. And I was still alive.

Nick emerged from the bushes, straightened his clothes, and stalked over to me, crowding me into the car. “What the hell were you thinking, coming outside with him?”

“I didn’t want him killing anyone inside.”

He stared at me for a long moment, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he clenched. Then he pulled me close and kissed me, his lips covering mine in a hard, punishing kiss. My back pressed against the cold metal car as Nick crowded into my space, his tallframe sheltering me from the world that had just tried to hurt me. His eyes, usually a warm amber, had darkened to an almost black gold, and I could feel the tension radiating through his body as he placed one hand beside my head.

“I could have lost you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. The words skated across my skin, making me shiver. His other hand came up to cup my cheek, and despite his obvious anger, his touch was achingly gentle. “If I had been just a minute later…”

“But you weren’t,” I said, reaching up to grasp his wrist. His skin was cool against my palm, a reminder of what he was—what we could never be. “You saved me.”

His jaw clenched, and I watched something dangerous flash across his face. "I will always save you," he growled, and then his mouth was on mine.

This wasn't like our other kisses—the sweet, careful ones we'd shared in hidden moments. This was possession, pure and raw. His lips claimed mine with a desperate intensity that made my knees weak, and I clutched at his shoulders to stay upright. One of his hands tangled in my hair, holding me exactly where he wanted me as he deepened the kiss.

I tasted copper and wasn't sure if it was from my split lip or the residual blood from his kill. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the way he was making me feel—safe, wanted, claimed. His body pressed closer, pinning me to the cold metal, and I welcomed his weight, needed it to ground me after the terror of the attack.

When he finally broke the kiss, we were both breathing hard. He rested his forehead against mine, and I felt something wet on my cheeks. I wasn't sure which one of us was crying.

“Nick,” I whispered, my voice breaking on his name.

“Shh,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses to my temples, my cheeks, the corner of my mouth. Each one felt like a goodbye,and my heart cracked a little more. “Let me have this moment. Let me remember you just like this.”

His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing away tears. When he kissed me again, it was slower, but no less intense. I could feel everything he wasn't saying—his love, his regret, his determination to keep me safe, even if it meant walking away. I kissed him back just as fiercely, trying to burn the feeling of his lips into my memory.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes had returned to their usual amber, but they were filled with a sadness that made my chest ache. He took a step back, and the night air rushed in to fill the space where his body had been, leaving me cold and bereft.

“We need to go,” he whispered, and I could hear regret and resolution in his words.

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