This situation just screams “trap,” Garret thought, his blade keeping his opponents at a respectful distance. If Morgan had been thinking clearly, he’d have seen it too.
Unfortunately, his cousin’s capacity for logic had gone out the window when Elena was murdered. All he cared about now was killing Ramirez -- or dying himself. Garret wasn’t really sure which Morgan would rather do.
Flourishing his sword, Garret lunged, sending the two thralls scrambling backward. They looked as nervous as a pair of foxes attacking a wolf. He could tell by the way they held their weapons that neither had more than a passing idea of how to fence.
Which was a damn good thing, since he needed to take care of them quickly. He had to find Ramirez’s body. The Spaniard couldn’t be far, not and maintain a mind link with the big blond thrall fighting Morgan.
Unfortunately, killing the thrall wouldn’t do a damn thing to Ramirez. Which was why the Spaniard preferred to work through his puppets rather than chance Morgan’s vicious rage personally.
If Garret could find and kill Ramirez’s body, it would take Morgan about ten seconds to finish off the thrall. Nobody was better with a blade.
One of the Swedes suddenly lunged, hacking at Garret’s head. He blocked with his rapier and spun, flicking his dagger out to deflect the second vamp’s thrust at his back. Whirling again, he charged the first and drove his blade into the thug’s left shoulder. The vampire yelled and reeled away as Garret parried the second Swede’s clumsy attack.
His blade circled the vamp’s desperate attempts to block. Before he could shove the rapier into his opponent’s heart, the first thrall charged in again, forcing him to spin and parry.
This was becoming a pain in the ass. He didn’t have time for this, not with Morgan fighting Ramirez. His cousin was far too capable of some act of suicidal heroism.
Garret had already lost Elena. He was damned if he’d lose Morgan too.
* * *
Standing very straight in an effort to relieve the pressure of the chain around her neck, Beth watched the two newcomers go after Joaquin’s thralls. She’d seen Val and Cade practice often enough to know this pair was really good.
The one fighting Ramirez was just as tall and muscular as the Swede, with effortless grace and strength in every swing of his broadsword. Like his partner, he was dressed in black -- a long-sleeved knit shirt and loose pants tucked into heavy combat boots. His soldierly appearance was enhanced by the sleek, short cut of his hair.
The cropped style emphasized the aristocratic angles of his handsome face, with its long nose and wide, sensual mouth. Striking as he was, though, there was feral rage in his black eyes, and his snarl bared fangs.
Ramirez is good-looking too, she reminded herself. He’s still a son of a bitch.
The vampire’s partner was shorter, leaner, built like a marathon runner rather than a heavyweight boxer. He wore his hair a little longer, in a curling, collar-length cut. A neat Van Dyke beard framed his mouth, its curving mustache giving him the look of a perpetual smile even as he fought for his life. Like his hair, the beard was a deep, rich brunet that made his green eyes look even more striking in his narrow, foxy face.
He fought his two opponents with a sword and dagger in either hand, both blades lighter and narrower than the clumsier weapons his foes used. He made the most of that advantage in lightning attacks that kept the Swedes scrambling.
The end came so fast, she almost missed it. The taller of the two thralls bellowed and lunged, trying to decapitate his foe with a wild swing. The bearded vamp deflected it neatly with his rapier and plunged the dagger into the man’s chest.
The second thrall leaped for his unprotected back. Beth screamed a warning, but the brunet was already whirling, slamming his elbow into the Swede’s face. As the thrall staggered, the bearded vampire drove his rapier into the Swede’s belly, then ripped it free. The second thrall hit the ground beside his groaning brother.
For a moment, the bearded vamp looked down at his foes, breathing hard. Then he reached behind his back and pulled something from a sheath at the small of his back.
It was a hand axe.
One of the fallen vampires cursed and struggled to rise.
The brunet glanced up at Beth. “This might be a good time to close your eyes.”
Hastily, she obeyed, wincing as the first thrall screamed. The sound was cut off by a meaty thunk.
“No, please…” the second began.
“Sorry,” the bearded vamp said. “We can’t afford to take prisoners Ramirez can possess.” Another choked, too-short scream. Beth swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes tighter.
Both those bastards asked Ramirez to let them rape me, she reminded herself. They don’t deserve pity.
“Hello, poppet.”
Startled, she opened her eyes, then jerked back as she realized the brunet vampire now loomed over her. She hadn’t even heard him approach.
“I need to find Ramirez,” he told her. He wore an expression of concern she didn’t trust at all. “We’ll free you when he’s taken care of.”
“Wait --” Beth began, but he was already striding from the room, throwing a worried look at his big, black-haired partner as he went.
The vamp and Ramirez’s thrall were still fighting, circling like starving wolves as they tested one another with skillful feints and lunges.
Beth kept her attention to them, trying to ignore the headless vampires in their puddle of blood. She just hoped the black-haired vamp was as good as his bearded partner.
No matter what they did to her afterwards, if they managed to kill Ramirez, they’d be doing her a favor.
* * *
“How long has it been since I cut out Elena’s traitorous heart?” Ramirez sneered. “A year? Or has it been two?”
“She owed you nothing, fucker,” Morgan growled. “And it’s been sixteen months. I’d think you’d remember, since we’ve been wrecking your little empire ever since.” He rammed his sword toward the thrall’s chest.
Ramirez parried and retaliated with a whistling slash of his own, forcing Morgan to leap back. He pressed the attack, and Morgan retreated, beating aside each blow. “I remember she died begging for mercy, squealing like the puta she was.”
“The only whore was your mother.” Furious, he swung at Ramirez’s head with such force, he felt the jolt of the thrall’s block all the way to his shoulder. “And Elena died with her fangs in your throat, trying to rip out your jugular. You’re the one who was squealing.”
Ramirez’s borrowed eyes widened as he retreated. “Now, how would you know that, amigo? Ay! You were in her, weren’t you? I thought she seemed stronger at the end. She’d managed to reach you, even across so many miles. You gave her your strength!”
“Yes, you bastard, I was there.” He bared fangs aching with the need to tear out his tormentor’s throat. “I only wish she’d reached me sooner.”
“How soon did you two link, maricón? Were you with her when I fucked her?” His fangs glinted as he sneered. “Did you feel my dick?”
Morgan lunged with a bellow of rage, driving his blade at his enemy’s heart. Ramirez tried to parry, but Morgan’s fury gave him strength, and the broadsword smashed through his guard. Its lethal point drove into his chest with a wet crunch, and Ramirez choked in agony.
“I was there, cabrón,” Morgan gritted, bearing down hard as he twisted his weapon to destroy the vampire’s heart. “I was there when you sodomized her, and I was there when you took her head.”
“And soon I’ll… take yours… too, hijo de la puta!” Ramirez spat in Morgan’s face and fled the thrall’s dying body. The Swede stared at Morgan in horror for a split second before his destroyed heart stopped and his knees gave way.
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Morgan wiped the spittle from his face and stepped back, jerking his sword free.
* * *
Eyes almost painfully wide, Beth stared at the black-haired vampire. She could almost see the fury boiling off him.
Despite her instinctive fear, she also felt a twinge of pity. It was obvious he’d loved this Elena, whoever she’d been. It must have been excruciating being a psychic witness to her murder.
“Ramirez!” He whirled and stalked past Beth toward the nearest window, sheathing his sword as he went. She flinched as he jerked up the sash, the glass protesting the rough treatment with a rolling metallic boom. “Bloody hell!” he growled, staring out across the moonlit woods. “The fucking coward is driving off!” He lifted his voice in a shout. “Garret, dammit, he’s gone!”
“What?” Beth dared, licking her dry lips. “Who?”
The vampire shot her a glittering look. “Ramirez. Must have had his body stashed in a car parked in the woods the whole time we were fighting. Now he’s running.”
She strained to listen. “I don’t hear anything.”
“You wouldn’t. He’s a good mile away.” Raking a frustrated hand through his hair, he turned toward her. “But I can hear the engine, and I feel his power field fading. There’s no way we can catch him before he’s out of range.” Shaking his head, he started toward her, purpose in his stride.
Despite herself, Beth cringed.
The vampire stopped in mid-step and glowered. “I’m not going to hurt you, dammit. I’m just going to take the chain off your neck. Doesn’t it hurt?”
Beth swallowed, suddenly aware of the links digging into her skin. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, it does. I’d… umm… appreciate it.”
Painfully conscious of her bound wrists and the collar around her neck, she watched warily as the vampire approached and bent to examine the clasp. Warm fingers brushed her skin as he went to work on it.
He had to be at least seven inches taller than she was. Something hidden and feminine within her purred approval -- of that impressive height, of the width of his chest, of the warmth of his fingers on her throat. Oh, God, Beth realized, looking up into his face, he’s gorgeous.
His eyes were beautiful, large and deep-set, the color of melted chocolate striated with honey and gold. His brows were thick and black, matching surprisingly long lashes.
But there was nothing at all feminine about his lean, angular face or the width of his mobile mouth. His sensual lips tightened as he struggled with the clasp, and she felt her nipples peak.
Shame stung her at her own heated reaction. Cut it out, Beth! The man is a vampire.
He might not be soulless and undead as the legends insisted, but judging from the last ten minutes, he wasn’t exactly a choirboy either.
Until this moment, Beth wouldn’t have thought it was possible for her to feel any attraction for a vamp at all. Not after what happened to her parents, and certainly not after what Ramirez had done to her.
Yet there’d been such grief in the vampire’s voice for his Elena. Her inner romantic insisted that any man who loved a woman with such passion couldn’t be evil.
Besides, there was something about him that made her body ache. Even his scent was tempting -- dark and male and strangely sexy.
He looked up and met her dark eyes, and everything… stopped.
She was painfully aware of the warm brush of his knuckles on the upper curves of her breasts.
Then the vampire blew out a breath. Beth instinctively inhaled. He smelled of mint. With an effort she could almost feel, he tore his gaze away from hers. As if against his will, his gaze dropped to the cleavage displayed by the silk nightgown Ramirez had forced her to wear.
He swallowed.
Beth wanted to step away, but even that seemed beyond her as her traitorous mind produced a dangerous question.
How will it feel to kiss him?
He straightened convulsively, then hastily did something to the clasp. It came loose and he stepped back, dropping it on the floor. “Turn around,” the vampire ordered. “I’ll get the ropes around your wrists.”
Beth stared up at him, feeling as helpless as a bird hypnotized by a cobra. With an effort, she shook off the spell and turned her back. Steel whispered as he drew a knife. Oddly, she felt no fear. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her.
He sliced the ropes with a single pass of the blade, then retreated a pace. Though common sense warned her to put more distance between them, Beth turned to him again.
The desire and guilt she’d seen on his face was gone now, replaced by a distant courtesy. “Give me your name and address. Then you can nap while we take you home.”
Listening to the emphasis he’d put on those last words, Beth realized he’d intended them as a telepathic compulsion, the kind few mortals could resist. “Sorry, I’m afraid that’s not going to work. I’m Kith.”
His brows raised, and his attention fell to the healing vampire bite in her neck. Suspicion hardened his dark gaze. “So Ramirez was trying to Turn you.” He took a step back, eying her. “But why did he leave you here for us to find?”
Oh, God, what should she say? Would he kill her if he knew the truth?
He tensed, his expression going icy.
He’ll definitely kill me if I lie. Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze. “Actually, I suspect I’m bait.”