Tempted by Blood

Standing from her crouched position, she wished she had a gun or something. She cursed herself for being too afraid to even hold one, let alone learn to fire one. If she could, she’d step into the roadway right now and shoot them. Just like in the movies.

Bam, bam, bam!

It was what she’d have done if she had the chance twenty-two years ago. She’d replayed it in her mind hundreds of times. Like a gunfighter, she’d stand unafraid in the middle of the road as the crowd of people scrambled to get away from her. They’d hide behind lampposts, cars. Duck into doorways and shops. She’d jerk the gun from her holster, boldly take aim and fire. Two quick shots that would echo off the buildings and change the course of her future. The shadowy men would crumple to the ground and her mother would be safe.

Instead, as the Jeep’s engine fired to life, she aimed her camera and snapped a few quick photos before switching it to video mode. Seeing things through that tiny screen made real life seem a little less real. She stepped out into the road to get a better view of the license plate and was so focused that she almost didn’t see the movement to her left.

She snapped her head up just in time to see another man emerge from the shadows.

Ten feet away.

The overhead streetlight illuminated bronze hair that reached to his chin, the top portion held back away from his face by a small ponytail. He was big—much bigger than the other two men. At well over six feet tall, he had linebacker shoulders underneath his leather coat and a formidable presence that seemed to suck the oxygen from the air.

His gaze burned into her before he made a noise that sounded like a growl. He covered the distance between them in two commanding steps.

She wanted to pinch her eyes shut, block out the nightmare, but for some reason, she didn’t. Up this close, she noticed that his hair was streaked with green and blue highlights. She was vaguely disturbed that she noticed this innocuous detail about him when the thing that should be first and foremost on her mind was that he’d stepped from the shadows.

Obsidian irises were ringed by an iridescent green color so captivating that if she had any breath left to gasp with, she would have. Her legs could no longer support her weight and she felt herself slip. An energy charge snapped in the air when he steadied her, snaking invisible fingers around her body. She caught the faint smell of alcohol on his breath and noted that his square jaw was peppered with stubble. A small scar interrupted the slash of his dark eyebrow, similar to one she had from hitting her chin on the windowsill as a child.

All very humanlike—yes—but she knew what she’d seen. He’d morphed from a shadow, just like those men in the Jeep and just like the men who took her mother.

She staggered backward and caught herself on the hood of a car, setting off a high-pitched alarm that cut through the night air.

She’d never been so thankful for that shrill sound.

Until he banged once on the hood and the siren quieted.

“Who the hell are you?” he said, staring at his hands before giving her a quick head to toe.

Who am I? My God, that’s a question I should be asking him.

She shook off that strange, electric sensation and pointed. “They … those two men took my cousin.”

He glanced at the Jeep. “Yes, they did, didn’t they. Get back, sweetheart, and try not to look.”

She blinked once, twice, zeroing in on the fangs that were hanging from his mouth like twin daggers.

This time she had no trouble screaming.

CHAPTER THREE

JACKSON LEFT THE WOMAN BEHIND him and sprinted down the street, cursing himself for sending Mitch back to the field office. He could’ve used the guy’s help. This was just supposed to be a routine task that he’d check off his to-do list. Hell, if he thought he’d run into more Darkbloods tonight …

And that woman … Shit. She’d seen him in his shadow form. And what was it with her energy signature, anyway? He’d never felt anything like it, not even from the woman earlier who’d been to Mexico. But maybe he didn’t want to know why things felt so different lately. He shoved her out of his mind as he narrowed his focus on what he had to do.

This weather wasn’t helping, either. With the fog, shadows weren’t as distinct, making it hard to blend in and shadow-move. The Jeep was pulling away with the young girl trapped inside. Damn. He wouldn’t make it. If that woman hadn’t drawn his attention, he’d have gotten there in time.

Unzipping his coat, he knew he’d have one opportunity to save her, then she’d be gone. Without slowing his stride, he grabbed a half-moon blade from the multitude of weapons strapped to his body. He threw it sidearm at the vehicle, flicking it as it left his fingers and giving it a good spin. The blade hissed like dragon’s breath as it flew through the air.

Pop.

It lodged in a back tire. The rig skidded to the left, slowed.

That was all Jackson needed.

He quickly covered the distance, yanked open the back door and climbed up on the running board.

“Goddamn Guardian pig.” With both hands on the wheel, the driver struggled to regain control.

Before the bastard in the passenger seat could level his gun, Jackson was slamming a fist into his jaw. The guy’s head jerked sideways and hit the dashboard with a loud crack. Just as Jackson reached for the driver, the Jeep screeched to a complete halt, knocking him slightly off balance. He reached for the guy, grabbing nothing but air, and the asshole jumped out.

Jackson hesitated. Go after him or see to the girl?

The guy in the passenger seat groaned.

Jackson couldn’t leave her here, he decided. If this one came to, he’d be weak. His willpower shot. Given that the girl was a sweetblood, there’d be nothing stopping him from attacking her in order to regain his strength. With that first taste, it’d all be over. That’s what it was like when a vampire tasted Sweet. Jackson had seen it happen enough times to know he wouldn’t be able to get the guy off her without potentially ripping out her throat. Most likely, he wouldn’t be able to stop the guy even if he wanted to.

“Out,” he ordered the girl. He’d take care of these two lowlifes in a minute, once he knew she was away from them.

She huddled in the far corner of the backseat, her eyes almost too big for her face. His stomach tightened. He still couldn’t get over how much she resembled Betsy. The shape of her face, her brown Shirley Temple curls, the way her bottom lip quivered as if she was on the verge of crying. Just like she had when he’d rescued her the first time.

In a disgusting display, Darkbloods were going to auction her off to the highest bidder with the winner draining her onstage for all to see. After the Agency’s medical staff checked her out and he wiped away the memory of her two-day ordeal, she was returned home. But now, here she was, at the mercy of Darkbloods again. That was the problem with sweetbloods, they attracted trouble like fresh meat to a zombie.

He reached over to help her out, but only when she shrank away from him did he realize his own fangs were fully extended. Rather than wasting precious minutes talking her down gently—this wasn’t a time for nice—he grabbed her by the scruff of her jacket and hauled her out.

“Go back to your mom,” he said as her feet hit the pavement. DB number one was running down the street. Thank the good Lord for the fog. At least it made shadow-moving hard for all of them.

The girl hesitated, clutched her hands around her middle as if she was about to get sick. A twinge of guilt hit him. All sweetbloods were trouble magnets. He should’ve kept better tabs on her. Just as he should’ve with his sister.

“Go,” he barked.

Her whole body jerked as if she were awakening from a far-off trance. She blinked and her eyes focused on him again. “She’s my cousin, not my mom.”

He bit back a smile as he turned to the guy in the Jeep. Human teenagers … vampire youthlings. They were all the same—concerned with things that didn’t matter in the long run. Her scent was much stronger inside the rig. Instantly, he felt his pupils dilating and a familiar but deafening beat sounded in his head.

Suddenly, his goal of killing this guy and then catching his friend didn’t seem quite so important. Or at least not as important as feeding his immediate needs.

Blood. Energies. Blood. Energies. The words drummed in his head with the rhythm of her heartbeat.

He’d have to wipe their memories, anyway. What was the harm in—

A sound from the front seat cut through his fucked-up logic like a boning knife.

Shit. What the hell was he thinking?

That was the problem. He wasn’t. His dark nature was.

He should take care of this loser first, anyway.

Staking a Darkblood would have to be enough to stoke his dark nature—the ancient, violent urges of his ancestors, urges that lived inside every vampire, whether civilized or not.

He pulled out his curved dragon blade just as the DB opened the door.

The similarity between Jackson and the DB was painfully obvious. They both wanted the same thing—blood and energies.

And yet the difference between them was huge. It had to be. He cared about humans and didn’t want to lead a life like this loser. Trolling night after night, living like their ancestors did who preyed on innocent victims and killed them. That wasn’t him. He didn’t want it to be him.

What he wanted was to make a difference. He wanted to matter. Do what was right. Make those around him proud. But none of that would happen if he let his dark side get too powerful and take over. And if it did, if he slipped up and let himself go, not only would his parents’ expectations and predictions for him have come true, but he’d lose everything he cared about.

Besides, he thought as he looked at this sorry bastard, he didn’t want to end up like this. Smelling like rotten meat because of an all-blood diet, the Darkblood hissed at Jackson and flashed a mouthful of teeth. His irises were completely black, the whites of his eyes a dark gray, and they locked onto the human female like the desperate predator he was.

Jackson would fight with everything he had before that happened. It simply wasn’t an alternative.

Jackson struck fast and the silver went deep. The DB let out a cry and lashed out, his hands dual claws on Jackson’s forearm, clutching, digging.

“Son of a bitch.”

The blade had clearly missed its mark, but the DB shouldn’t be this strong, either. A stab by a knife made from this silver alloy should have this guy flat on his ass.

Unless … he’d had Sweet recently, Jackson realized. Given its healing properties and the high it gave vampires who drank it, that could be the only explanation.

He withdrew the handle and struck again. This time, he twisted the hilt until the blade went where he wanted it to go.

The DB finally crumpled to the ground, and Jackson took a half step backward, watching as the body quickly turned to ash. Sadistic, maybe. But Jackson liked to watch this part. All that was left of the guy were rivets, zippers, glass blood vials and collection needles. His dark nature fed on shit like this. The sicker the better. Sure, he lived life hard—partying, screwing, fighting—but it was for a reason. It fed the evil part of him, kept it at bay, preventing him from spiraling out of control.

“That is so disgusting,” Krystal said from behind, “and it stinks.”

Having expended all that negative energy, Jackson was feeling better already. Not perfect, but he should be able to manage now. Before he forgot, he retrieved the half-moon blade embedded in the back tire and turned around. Krystal’s cousin, the woman with the golden eyes and the long auburn hair, was partially shrouded in the heavy fog. She was holding up something. Her phone.

Was she trying to get a signal? he wondered.

He pulled out his own phone and texted Mitch an I-need-your-fucking-help-now message. He’d need a cleanup crew to dispose of the vehicle and make sure there were no other witnesses. Someone would have to go after the DB that got away, and the two females would need to be taken home and have their memories wiped.

And then it dawned on him.

Her phone.

The woman had been taking pictures.

WITH A SWIPE OF HIS HAND, the man brushed his hair from his face and came toward them. His strides were long and fluid, like a powerful animal’s. Arianna subtly moved Krystal behind her and took a half step backward.

Damn her morbid curiosity that always seemed to get in the way of common sense. Why hadn’t they left when they’d had the chance? They could’ve been back home by now behind locked doors. She’d have out her garlic, her crosses and she’d make sure to tell Krystal not to answer the door. Who knew if any of the vampire myths were correct, but she wouldn’t have taken any chances. Too late for that now.

Her mind spun out of control with the incredible event she’d just witnessed. As unbelievable as it sounded, she couldn’t deny it. Vampires really did exist in this world. They weren’t just made-up stories and fables. They were walking, talking individuals who melted with the shadows and preyed on humans. Thank God, she’d taken pictures and video, otherwise no one would ever believe her. Not even the loyal readers of Paranormalish. She glanced around desperately, looking for a way out.

“Give it to me.” He snapped his fingers.

Her first reaction was to do what he said, and she made a move to hand the phone to him. Wait. What was she doing? This was her only evidence of what she’d seen. There was no way in hell anyone would believe her if she didn’t provide proof of what she’d just witnessed. She knew that all too well.

And those knives of his …

When he’d pulled one out and raised it above his head, the reflection of the moonlight had flashed along the curved blade, illuminating it from point to hilt. It was as if it were lit from within, drawing power from the man who held it.

She bristled at his commanding tone and yet she shrank away from him at the same time. “Give what to you?” she asked, quickly finding her courage. She raised the pitch of her voice slightly in an attempt to sound innocent.

She’d been waiting for most of her life not only to see something like this with her own eyes, but also to have undeniable proof that there was something out there beyond the realm of human reason. Shadows did come to life and threaten people. Just as she always knew they did.

“The phone,” he growled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, honey, don’t bullshit me. Neither of us has time for this.”

Honey? Did he just call her honey?

She straightened her spine and glared at him. Men who threw around fake endearments like candy, assuming it would make a woman cave, were enough to make her break out in hives. It was something her father did.

“For one thing, I’m not your honey. And for another—”

He turned his full attention to her and the words faltered in her throat. Vampire or not, the guy was gorgeous. Probably the hottest guy she’d ever seen in person. Just about anyone could look good, airbrushed in a magazine. He was the real deal.

Amusement flooded his green eyes and one corner of his mouth curved up. It was a look that said he knew exactly how attractive he was and the effect he was having on her. This rough, unpolished sexuality was one hundred percent male and it sent shivers down her spine. He was a vampire, for God’s sake.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a camera.”

“You were taking pictures, honey,” he said pointedly, drawing out the two syllables. Clearly, he knew it pissed her off and yet he did it, anyway.

Her face heated with anger. “Too bad. You can’t have it.” As if she would simply—

In a flash of movement, the phone was suddenly gone from her hand and he was pocketing it.

She took a half step back, appalled. “What do you think—You can’t just—That’s my private property. Give it back to me.”

“Well, it’s mine now.” He snapped his fingers at her cousin. “You, too.”

She could suddenly relate to the whole mother-bear thing. Messing with her was one thing, but messing with her fifteen-year-old cousin really chapped her hide.

“Come on, Krystal with a K,” he said, when her cousin didn’t immediately respond. “I don’t have all night.”

A freight train roared in her head and the little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

How did he know that was one of Krystal’s pet phrases? Because her name didn’t start with a C, when she met new people, she’d introduce herself as Krystal with a K. What the hell was going on?

Her cousin handed over the phone without complaint or comment, as if the guy was God or something. Most teenagers would at least say something when it involved their phones.

As if in answer to Arianna’s unasked question, he said, “Lucky for both of you, Krystal and I have met before. Otherwise, you two would’ve been toast.”

Krystal looked confused. “We—we have?”

Which could only mean one thing. Arianna’s legs felt boneless as the weight of his words sank in. “Her disappearance. Last month. That was you?” Her voice came out hoarse and breathless.

“Not her disappearance, no. That happened because of guys like that back there.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

“I … I don’t understand.”

Cursing to himself, he glanced out into the night. She could see the muscles in his jaw working, and she imagined he was mulling things over, trying to figure out what to tell her. When his gaze landed back on Krystal again, his expression softened. Hell, he looked almost protective of her.

“Okay, what in the world is going on?” she prodded.

He sighed and she noticed the resignation in his eyes. “Where’s your car?”

“Why?” Her hand went instantly to the keys in her pocket. She was not about to divulge—

And before she knew what had happened, he had her keys, as well.

“What the hell? You seriously need to stop doing that.”

“Which car is yours?”

“I’m not telling you that,” she fired back.

“You’d better, because I’m driving you home.”

“So that you can find us again and kill us next time?” She wrapped her arms protectively around her cousin, who seemed to be in shock.

He rolled his eyes. “I already know where you both live. If I had wanted to kill you, believe me, I could’ve done it a long time ago.”

She blinked, but when she didn’t answer right away, he said, “Fine. I’ll find it myself.” Then he grabbed both of them by the upper arms and marched them up the street.

Arianna tried to dig her heels in despite her flip-flops, but it did nothing to slow him down. He was too strong. “You can’t do this to us.”

“I’m not doing anything to you.”

She tried wrenching away from him. “Then what do you call this?”

“Well, I’m not leaving the two of you here, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’ll scream.”

“I’d prefer it if you wouldn’t,” he said gruffly, gripping her arm tighter. “I don’t think I need to remind you of what I’m capable of.”

No, he didn’t. It was burned into her retinas like a red-hot branding iron. The fangs, the weapons, that … that guy folding in on himself were images she’d never forget. And she knew how fast he was. If he wanted to, he could slice her throat open before she’d even feel the press of the blade. She’d go along with what he wanted for now and watch for a chance to escape.

They were only about three cars away from the Caddy when she remembered the statistics: women who get into a car with a stranger have just reduced their chances of survival. Getting driven to another location would be a disaster. For both her and Krystal. He could just be telling them he was taking them home when he might have other plans for them entirely.

She pulled again, tried to wrench herself from his grasp, but he was too strong. His grip was like a handcuff around her upper arm. Glancing around, she knew she’d need someone else’s help. Down the street, light from a doorway cut a sudden column of warmth into the darkness.

This was her chance.

So, for the second time tonight, she yelled.

GODDAMN IT, he was helping her. Adding another human into the mix would only complicate things further.

“Quiet,” he ordered.

But she didn’t. He slid his hand down to grasp hers and felt that familiar snap of human energy. But rather than calming him, it was like a triple jolt of caffeine, instantly jacking his heart rate up, just as it had done the first time he touched her.

What the fuck?

First the woman at the club, now this one? Was being hypersensitive to a human’s energies and blood just another sign of reverting? Needing more might only be part of the problem. Jesus, he’d have to work fast, otherwise he could really lose control. He grabbed Krystal’s hand, as well.

Calm down, he pushed into both of their heads. I’m only here to help.

The girl relaxed, but the woman didn’t. “Hey, you,” she yelled to a guy who was headed to his car parked down the street.

Panic ripped through him. What in the hell was going on? Why hadn’t the thought suggestion worked? He couldn’t remember that ever happening before. “Stop,” he commanded her, jerking her close. “I’m not hurting you, nor do I plan to.”

She hit his chest with an oomph. “Then let us go.”

The girl was staring at both of them, a bewildered look plastered to her face. If he didn’t act fast, her memory plant may not hold. He’d have to take more drastic measures.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

He leaned down and kissed the woman.

She gasped as his mouth covered hers, struggled against him at first.

An asshole move for sure, but what choice did he have? It would shut her up as he implanted a thought suggestion. The intimate contact would surely make it take hold this time.

Even though he was prepared, another powerful jolt of electricity charged into his body. His lips tingled, his face heated up, his bones felt as if they were turning to rubber. Fire raced through his body, igniting just about everything. His fingers. His toes. And a few key places in between.

Damn. What the hell is going on with him? Is this what reverting feels like?

If so, no wonder it was so compelling. Her energies were rejuvenating him like a hit of adrenaline or a megadose of caffeine.

The woman’s mouth was hot on his and tasted faintly of some Italian spices and … Bubble gum? He’d have guessed she’d be more of a mint-gum person. Soft waves of her auburn hair brushed across his face. It smelled like honey. Or maybe that was her gum. Everything about her was tantalizing.

But he could not—would not—give in to it. Struggling not to get lost in the sensation, he forced himself to think of what he needed to do. He’d wipe her memory, take the two of them home, then get the hell away from her forever. Everything about this woman was way too dangerous.

He no longer cared that Krystal reminded him of his sister. Like most sweetbloods, she’d probably succumb to an unscrupulous vampire at some point in her life. There was nothing he could do to prevent it. He’d have her name taken off his list and put on another Guardian’s. Let someone else keep tabs on her, just as long as it wasn’t him. The long-ago guilt he’d harbored about his sister seemed much less important than his survival in the here and now.

“Shh,” he whispered against her lips, working his way past her mental barriers. He was vaguely aware that this felt different, as well, but then he couldn’t recall doing a mind wipe on a human host during a kiss without putting his hands on her temple. He quickly implanted the thought suggestion.