Page 46 of Soulmates
“Who are you?” Trajan spoke through clenched teeth. “And what the fuck do you want?”
“Trajan.”
The thud of a fist landing on meaty flesh cuts off his words. Connor’s knees sag, and Trajan punches him again.
“What.” Thud. “The hell.” Smack. “Do you want?”
Connor’s on his knees. Trajan grabs a fistful of his shirt and yanks. Connor never lands a punch, nor does he go for any of the weapons he’s carrying. It’s almost like he wants Trajan to beat him.
The vampire’s fist lands, this time in Connor’s face. His lip splits, and when he whispers Trajan’s name, he sends out a spray of blood. Somehow, that makes Trajan even crazier. Heroars, louder than any animal could. The sound chills my blood. He drags Connor close and latches on to his bare throat.
As much as I’ve been after Tony to feed from me, this is not what I’d imagined. Connor moans, low and pitiful, as if he can barely tolerate the pain. One of his fists smacks weakly at Trajan’s arm. Still Trajan drinks.
Connor’s eyes slide shut. The wrongness penetrates my wolf’s brain, and I jump up. If Trajan kills this man, we’ll never know what the hell was going on. I bound across the room, and grab hold of Trajan’s calf. I bite hard enough to taste blood, then worry the wound.
It works.
With another earth-rending shriek, Rocky-the-raccoon-eater drops Connor and turns to me. Fear turns my belly to water.Fuck. If I was smart, I’d get the hell out. Instead, I crouch, growling. I’m good in a fight, but facing a vampire in a blood lust could well be the last thing I do.
We’re in a damned eight-by-ten-foot cement box. There’s no place to run, nothing to hide behind. Trajan approaches, and I strap my weary ass together and face him. He lunges. The densethwakof a pistol’s silencer distracts us both. With a cry, Trajan goes down, dark red blood pooling on the floor at his feet.
“Fucking silver.” Trajan lands on his knees. The pistol slips out of Connor’s hand and hits the floor with a clank.
I end up tugging and prodding till they’re lying side by side. It’s early evening. I can’t shift because I have no clothes. Well, I could shift, but then I’d have to shift back to travel, and…just no. After this, I want to go at least a year without dropping to all fours.
Unless there’s a hot guy behind me and we’re having fun.
I settle down between the two of them, afraid if Trajan wakes up, he’ll take another run at Connor. I’m not sure I can stop him, but I’ll try. The smell of blood teases me, and I’m grateful, because if I worry about being hungry, I might not have time to freak out over what’s going to happen when Trajan wakes up.
I wait a while, maybe a few hours, until Connor stirs. His face is the color of the cement. He sits with a soft groan and holds his head in his hands. “Is he…”
His whisper draws my attention to Trajan. I nudge the vampire with my paw. Again. Harder. He grunts, and I catch Connor’s gaze.
“Silver bullet.” The man’s lips are dry and cracked. “His body’ll kick the casing out, and he’ll come around soon.”
I can’t respond, so I shut my eyes. I’m still pretty tired, and if Connor wanted me dead, he would have let Trajan do it. At least this way, I can get some rest.
Or not. Trajan’s arms flail out, and his body goes rigid. He yells, and with a snap like a breaking twig, a bullet’s shell lands on the ground. I lurch to my feet, ready to hold him off if he makes another move at Connor.
Instead, he struggles to his feet. “What the hell, man?” His voice is raw. “What the hell?”
Connor looks like ass, or like he’s just had half his blood volume forcibly removed. “We can talk later, Traj. For now, I just need you to trust me.”
“Right.” He uses almost as many syllables as a middle school girl. “I saw you dead.”
“Later. I promise.”
They go on arguing, but now that Connor’s moving around more, I can pick up his scent. I’m almost sure he’s a phouka. They’re rare, but he doesn’t match anything else I’ve experienced.
They’re still arguing when Trajan’s phone chirps. He drags it out of his pocket. “Sheena.”
Connor manages to get as far as his knees. Trajan taps out a reply to the text message. “She says she got beat up.” He speaks to me, cutting Connor out of our conversation. “Says she spent the night and most of today in an ER, went home and fell asleep, and just now woke up.”
“We should get moving,” Connor says. “My car is parked by the safe house. I’ll give you a ride wherever you want.”
“Okay.” A flash of vulnerability crosses Trajan’s face. I try to put myself in his shoes: a long-dead lover returns, and all hell breaks loose.
Yeah, that’d totally suck.
