Beautiful Danger. Michele Hauf

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СКАЧАТЬ she could shake off the disturbingly sensual shiver that tightened her nipples and react by plunging the stake into his heart, he pushed away from her and charged both wolves.

      The vampire was truly insane, because the wolves were twice the size of him and surely twice as strong. The only advantages a vampire had against a werewolf were speed and stealth. Which he was utilizing to his maximum capability. But was it enough?

      Domingos tossed one wolf over his shoulder, and Lark lunged to draw her blade across the wolf’s throat. Hot blood sprayed her legs and dripped down the shiny woven Kevlar that reinforced the thighs of her pants. Protected the femoral artery. A fashion must when slaying vampires.

      A wolf yipped, and, being the last one, he smartened up and took off down the alley. Three wolves lay groaning on the ground, not dead, but one or two could be close.

      Domingos scooped her into his arms and ran toward the wrought-iron fence blocking off the alley.

      “What are you—?” She kicked the air but couldn’t manage to get free.

      “You don’t want to stick around for those dogs to get their second wind, do you?”

      He leaped to the top of the fence, and then the roof, as if he had wings and carrying her was no burden.

      Lark pressed the stake against his shoulder, though it would do little more than damage muscle and bone. A direct hit to the heart was required for death. “Put me down!”

      “More distance,” he hissed, racing across the rooftop. “Quiet the music!”

      “The what?”

      She struggled and managed to jump from his hold, but he tugged at her and tried to pick her up again. Lark’s boots slid on the tile rooftop. Trying to place the stake on his heart and maintain purchase on the slate tiles was impossible. She lost her balance.

      The vampire grabbed her wrist and shoved her around against a chimney. “Ungrateful wench.”

      “Bloody insane vampire. I don’t need your help.”

      “Yeah?” He hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his leather pants, which were torn in spots along the outer leg seams, the hem shaggy. Blood glittered from where she had stabbed him in the thigh earlier. “You like being puppy chow?”

      “I could have handled them.”

      His laughter echoed across the rooftops. And he said nothing more, only squatted and eyed her through the tangle of his dark hair. Disturbing, to say the least. His silence prodded at her confidence. Lark scanned her periphery. Nowhere to run without experiencing a punishing fall.

      “I’ll give you a head start,” she said. Where had that come from? Clinging to the chimney, she marveled at his ease of keeping traction on the slick tiles. Of course, the man was barefoot. “Five seconds. Then I come after you.”

      He remained, defying her with a curious tilt of the head and a smooth of his fingers over the ill-shaven goatee and stubble that scruffed his jaw.

      “Run!” she warned.

      He spread out his arms and stood. A bend of his fingers defiantly invited her closer.

      Lark stepped forward, but her boots slid on the tile. She wouldn’t be able to run across two feet of this roof, let alone attack the longtooth. And what if she fell?

      “I win,” he said. “That means I get a prize.”

      He lunged for her, pinning her hips against the chimney and clamping her wrists to the brick so the stake was directed skyward. He smiled widely, revealing descended fangs. A pair of goggles clacked around his neck, small ones, like something out of a steampunk novel. And he smelled like smoke. Not cigarette smoke, but rather a sweet firewood scent.

      “You’re pretty,” he said, again giving her that curious look, much like a boy looking over an insect he’d crushed in the backyard. “And deadly.”

      “You win tonight,” she said, hoping to appeal to the sane part of him that would have compassion and let a woman go. There was always tomorrow night.

      “So what’s my prize?” he asked.

      He pressed his body against hers and she could feel his hard muscles pulse with movement. Not bulky like the wolves, but sleek and dangerously strong. A predator to the core.

      His prize? If he expected what she had just denied the wolves, she would slay him right here and now, and be damned if she fell to her death.

      “I can’t bite you,” he said, dashing his tongue along one fang, “because you’ve that damned collar. Too sharp. Though pain gives me a thrill. But I can do this.”

      And he kissed her. Hard and urgent, forcing his sweet breath into her mouth. She didn’t like it, and twisted to get away—he slapped a hand to her head and held her still. Lark struggled, and shoved up her knee into his groin. The move hadn’t the punishing force she’d hoped for. The vampire persisted, pressing his body against her knee, challenging her to hurt him, to deny him this stolen prize.

      With her heartbeat thundering, Lark’s rationale scrambled for a solid hold. Training had not covered this sort of attack. What to do? How to…She could feel his fangs pressing into her lip but not cutting. Insanity! Never would she—

      Too long since you’ve been kissed. If you’re going to fall, shouldn’t it be like this? Less painful than splattering on the street below.

      Suddenly the hard crush of their mouths softened. Lark dropped her knee. And like a moth with tattered wings surrendering to the flame, she granted the vampire his prize.

      Because nothing in her life made sense anymore. And everything was opposite what it should be. Now she dealt with strange paranormal creatures on a daily basis, when once she’d never even believed in them.

      And because it hurt her heart to remember the last time her husband had kissed her.

      A regretful protest rumbled in her throat, and the vampire pulled away from her. The city was bright with the glow of neon and streetlights, and the eerie illumination fell upon his handsome yet deceptively brutal features. Too much facial hair to decide if he possessed true beauty.

      The vampire studied her face and touched her cheek, drawing away to inspect the droplet wobbling on his fingertip.

      A teardrop? She had become a mental case herself!

      “What’s this from?” he asked, pointing the tear-soaked finger at her. “I am so awful to you?”

      She nodded. That was as good a reply as any. Not the truth, but she needed that lie right now.

      He licked her pain from his finger and nodded. “Of course. I can be nothing more to one so beautiful as you.”

      And then he turned and ran across the rooftops, leaving her clinging to the chimney like a bird without wings. And Lark wondered how in hell she was going to get down from this aerial perch.

       Chapter 3

      He СКАЧАТЬ