Page 43 of Marked By Moonlight

His mouth covered hers, his fetid tongue pushing past her teeth. Claire gagged, her stomach rolling at the disgusting taste of him. Hands, hard and cruel, grabbed her waist and hefted her on top of a nearby hood. She cried out as her bottom slammed down on unforgiving steel.

A strange, animal-like cry rose up from deep in her throat. She raked her nails down his face in a savage swipe, his blood coating her palms. He snatched hold of her wrists and yanked them high above her head.

A fierce instinct burned through her blood. With a growl, she bared her teeth and sank them into his arm. Cursing, he dropped her wrists. She took advantage, curling her hand into a fist and striking him so hard his head snapped back. She surged against him, trying to throw him off her. But he was strong. Shoving her down on the hood, her head smacked steel, stunning her motionless as he fumbled with the hook at her waistband. His triumphant cry stabbed the air. Her zipper sang out as he tugged at her pants, his jerks frantic. The fabric was too tight to slip off with ease, so her body slid up and down the hood with each rough yank.

A million stars stared down at her, the twinkling dots of light mocking her as her head cleared and she renewed her struggles.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

A sudden crack of gunfire shattered the air. Her gaze sought Gideon. He stood several feet away, his gun in his hand, a lifeless body at his feet.

Her attacker spun around, a deep growl vibrating from him at the sight of his fallen comrade. “You’ll beg for death before I’m through with you,” he ground out.

Before he could make good on the threat, she sprang on his back. Wrapping her arms around his throat, she squeezed with all her strength. He thrashed side to side, trying to toss her off him.

Suddenly another shot split the night. Both she and the lycan fell back from the force. Air rushed from her lungs. Pinned beneath the dead weight of him, Claire pushed at his body, struggling and choking on a mouthful of scraggly hair that fell in her face.

With a grunt, she flung him off her and sucked in sweet gulps of air as she zipped her pants back up.

Gideon snatched her hand and pulled her off the ground. Her gaze landed on the sprawled bodies. She lifted her gaze to him.

Eyes on the building in the distance, he spoke quickly, “I didn’t have time to attach the silencer. We gotta get out of here.”

The warm hold of his hand on hers felt wonderfully reassuring and she tightened her grip, hurrying alongside him, glancing one last time at the two bodies. “What just happened?”

“We were ambushed.”

“You killed them,” she murmured as they neared the Jeep.

“No. I didn’t,” he said without breaking stride. “They were already dead.”

She released his hand when they reached the Jeep and barely had both feet inside before he gunned the engine to life. They tore out of the parking lot, tires spinning and gravel flying.

“Their fate was sealed the second they became infected,” Gideon said. “A long time ago, I’m guessing.”

She looked away from the road to stare at his profile, absorbing his words before she announced, “Then I’m dead, too.”

He glanced at her, the lights of an oncoming car casting the hard lines of his stern features into relief. “Not yet. I wouldn’t help you if you were.”

She shook her head and stared ahead, the streetlights narrow streaks of rainbow flying past. “I don’t understand. Why are you helping me at all?”

“Maybe I’ve gone soft. Maybe I’ve gotten tired of killing and felt like saving a life instead. Maybe you’re…”

“I’m what?”

He shook his head, whatever he thought to say held in check.

Claire hugged herself, her fingers digging into her arms as she recalled the brutality of her attack. “I’d rather be dead than become like them.”

“If it comes down to that, I’ll pull the trigger myself.”

She glared at him. “So you’ve said.”

He was so cold. So calculated. And in that moment, she hated him for it. Even if she knew he couldn’t afford to be any other way.

Gideon glanced at her as she crossed her arms in a noisy huff, clearly offended by his bluntness. He sighed. It wasn’t as if he would enjoy ending her life. Not hers. Not Claire.

There had been a time when he enjoyed the hunt, relished the kill. Each successful mission avenged his parents. At least when he started out, when he was young, that was the case. He hardly slept, hardly ate—only hunted. His sole purpose had been to hunt and destroy. And standing over each of his kills, he had imagined that dead lycan to be the one who infected his mother.

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