Tempted by Blood. Laurie London

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ