He screamed.
That was right. He should be afraid. He should—
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The bullets slammed into her back, one after the other. Her body jerked, like a puppet on a string, and she spun to see the blond guy on the ground—he’d pulled out a gun from his coat. How many damn weapons did he have hidden in that thing? The blond was still on the ground, the gun still clutched in his shaking hand, and he was preparing to fire at her again. I should have broken both of his wrists. Her mistake.
“Jane!” The roar of her name shook the alley. And she knew the two men who’d come here for her—humans who had made such a terrible mistake—were about to pay.
In the next moment, Aidan Locke was there. Tall, strong, too powerful. His blue eyes glowed with the rage of his beast even as razor sharp claws sprang from the tips of his fingers.
The blond with the gun fired at him, but the fool—he wasn’t using silver bullets and the hits didn’t slow Aidan down for even a moment. Aidan slashed out with his claws, cutting that guy’s wrist, and blood flew into the alley.
More blood.
Jane’s clothes were soaked with blood. She sagged to her knees. “Aidan…” His name came from her as a rasp.
The blond jumped to his feet and charged at Aidan. He ran right at him and—
Jane’s eyes sagged closed. She fell forward, slamming into the cement.
Footsteps thudded toward her and a hard hand fisted her hair. “Not so tough now, are you?”
It was the linebacker-wanna-be. Spittle flew from his mouth as he wrenched her hair back even more. “You’re not nearly as strong as I—”
Bam. This time, she was the one who’d fired. Good thing she still carried her service weapon. And here I was…thinking I didn’t need it any longer. The blast went right into his chest, a perfect hit to the heart, and her attacker fell down beside her, gasping out his last breath.
Jane forced her eyelids to stay open a little longer. She was bleeding so much, and an insidious cold swept over her body. Aidan. She needed to get to Aidan…
“Baby, what the hell did they do to you?”
He was above her, no, bending over her. Aidan gently scooped her into his arms and held her so very carefully.
As if she were precious.
As if she weren’t a monster.
Because to him, she wasn’t.
“S-set-up,” Jane managed to whisper. Humans lying in wait for her. Not a good thing. And that could mean… “Need to g-get out of here…could have…r-reinforcements.” She was stuttering. That was bad. She never stuttered and she never felt this cold.
Aidan’s handsome face was locked in lines of fury. “They’ll find the dead when they come looking for their men.”
So he’d killed the blond. Too bad. She would’ve liked to question him. She—
“Shit, baby, how much blood have you lost?”
Enough to make her weak. “Think the bullets…are still…in me…”
He cursed—wonderful, dark inventive curses that had a smile tugging at her lips even as he clutched her tighter and raced from that alley. She hurt, so much, but Jane wasn’t scared. Not when Aidan was there. He’d take care of her. She knew it with certainty.
Death wasn’t an option for her. He’d give her his blood—his wonderful, strong alpha werewolf blood, and she’d heal so quickly.
And once she was healed…
I’ll find out just who the hell planned that set-up in the alley.
And payback would be such a bitch.
***
He waited until the werewolf left. The alpha had been in such a blind rage when he rushed away, looking neither to the left nor the right as he hurried to get help for the vampire.
Mary Jane Hart.
His prey of choice.
He stepped over the body of the first human. His gaze swept over him carefully. Claws to the jugular had taken out that fellow. His face was frozen in lines of terror and blood had sprayed into his blond hair. The fellow probably hadn’t expected to die. He’d thought he was the predator.
Wrong. You were the bait. The test.
He kicked the blond with his shoe, wanting to make sure he was gone.
The man was.
So he looked at test subject number two. This fellow interested him the most because…Jane killed him. He’d had a small surveillance camera placed in the alley, the better to watch from a safe distance. Even when she’d been shot—four times in the back—Jane had still managed to kill this man before he’d had the opportunity to end her.
But, interestingly enough, she hadn’t used her fangs to attack him. She’d fired at him, shot just like a human cop would have done when confronted with an assailant who wouldn’t stop.
Blood permeated the alley, a temptation that no new vampire should be able to resist. Yet…
Jane Hart hadn’t taken so much as a sip. She hadn’t used her fangs even when biting would have saved her.
How very interesting.