“Stop!” Michael called. “Ruby, stop! I want to talk to you.”
This evening was a waking nightmare. How many times had I dreamed of seeing him again? Of confessing my horrible misdeeds and having him forgive me? Of telling him that I’d always loved him and having him say the same back to me? The only thing Michael wanted was to f**k with me. I walked even faster.
A cool hand grasped my arm.
I turned and snarled. “What?”
The wind ruffled his thick, unruly hair. He loomed over my smaller form, and I was struck anew at how beautiful he was. His features seemed refined in undeath. It suited him.
I hated that.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he said.
“I’m leaving,” I bit back, jerking my arm away from him. That was the good thing about being a were-jaguar. He wasn’t stronger than me. “This was obviously a mistake. I’d say it was nice to see you again, but we’d both know that was a lie, right? So I won’t even bother.”
“Don’t you think it’s unfair for you to leave so quickly?”
I stopped and turned, furious. “Exactly how is this unfair?”
“Don’t I get a kiss good night?”
“Not as long as you have fangs in your mouth.” I stomped away. God, what was wrong with him? With me, for dreaming about him for so long?
“Good-bye, Ruby,” he said softly, so softly I almost didn’t catch it.
The bus pulled up to the curb in a noisy squeal, drowning out anything else he might have said. I paused. Why had his voice gotten so soft and thoughtful? Was it a vampire lure? I peeked over my shoulder and caught a man turning into an alley. Michael must have decided to stick to the shadows for his walk home. Valjean, I corrected myself with a curl of my lip, and turned to the waiting bus. Just then, a heavy shuffling and the sound of flesh striking flesh pricked my ears. A fight? It was coming from the alley.
A trick?
The wind shifted, and along with the heavy scent of car exhaust, I caught the smell of something odd and pungent. I scanned the strip of restaurants nearby. No Italian. How odd that I’d caught the thick scent of garlic—
I gasped, then raced for the alley.
Two men fought there, and I saw Michael slug a guy in a polo shirt. The other man reeled at the hit. Michael growled low in his throat—strange how sexy I found that sound—and pounced on the man.
Irritation flashed through me. Was he taking out some hapless passerby in an alley out of a pissy fit of temper, or worse, because he was thirsty? I put my hands on my h*ps and tapped my foot. “Michael, this is so not cool.”
Michael whirled around, and his eyes were so dark that for a moment, I thought there was something wrong with him. A hypodermic needle was sticking out of the side of his neck, and he yanked it out and tossed it to the ground. He staggered forward a step and raised a hand out to me. “Get out of here, Ruby,” he said in low, angry growl. “Leave!”
Behind him, the man leaped onto Michael’s back and pushed another hypodermic into his throat. Michael shuddered, his eyes rolling back in their sockets, and he collapsed to the ground. The smell of thick garlic filled the air.
I took a step forward. “What the hell is going on?”
The man crouching over Michael stood. He was tall, with broad shoulders, a scruffy beard, and cuts on his face from where Michael’s fists had clearly done some damage. A dark sleeve of tattoos covered each of his arms. This didn’t seem like a botched feeding.
“What are you doing?” I asked, approaching.
He stepped in front of Michael’s sprawled form. “Collecting a bounty. Move along.”
“Bounty?”
“You need to mind your own business, lady. Move along,” he repeated, cracking his knuckles in a menacing way.
I raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I should stop you.”
“Now, sweetie,” he said, staring condescendingly down at me. “I’d hate for you to break a nail on one of your cute little hands.”
Oh, was that how it was going to be? I moved forward, letting my eyes flash with moonlight like a cat’s.
Recognition dawned on his face, along with a slow, evil smile that showed a pair of extremely long fangs. “What are you, a were-bunny? I’ve never tasted one. Tonight might be the night.”
God damn it, why did everyone think I was a were-bunny? I dropped my purse onto the ground and began to unbutton the front of my dress, letting the change ripple through my insides. “Try again.”
“Were-kitten?” he said with a leer as I dropped my nice new dress to the ground and stepped out of it, then my shoes. “Or maybe a cute little were—”
The words choked in his throat as I dropped to all fours and black-and-gold-spotted fur sprouted all over my body. My lashing tail distended immediately, and thick, curving claws grew from my fingertips. My teeth elongated and extended into sharp predator teeth. My shoulders hunched low, my h*ps sliding back to adjust for powerful hindquarters.
“Oh, f**k,” he swore under his breath.
And there it is, I thought smugly. Then the change fully overtook me, and my thought became of nothing but my jaguar until the transformation was done. When I opened my eyes and took a prowling step forward, he bolted down the alley.
My inner cat went wild. I gave a chuffing little cry and sprang after him. As he raced down the alley I swiped at his back, toying with him. He yelped as my claws ripped his shirt open, exposing a back full of more tattoos. I sped up, nipping at his heels. I could break his neck and play with him, spring onto his back and sink my teeth into the fragile bones at the base of his head. A broken neck wouldn’t kill a vampire, but it’d be really fun to see the fear in his eyes as he realized he’d be mine to play with and destroy at my leisure.
Sometimes there was a big upside to being an apex predator, I thought with a gleeful rush.
A groan sounded behind me, and I skidded to a halt, flattening my ears, listening for another breath of sound.
The tattooed man sensed my distraction and sped up, heading toward traffic.
I could still catch him. If he got toward one of the main streets, I’d have no choice but to abandon the hunt. A big cat roaming downtown Fort Worth? Kinda noticeable. But he wasn’t faster than me. I could still spring on him, knock him to his back, snap his neck—
The groan sounded again. Michael. I gave another chuffing cry of anger and turned back toward him.
I’d deal with that tattooed vampire later. I had his scent now, and I’d be able to pick up his trail if he didn’t get into a car.
I padded to Michael’s side and placed my damp nose against his skin. Flushed with heat. That wasn’t good for a vampire. The garlic must have given him a fever.
I touched him with the tip of my tongue. He was still unconscious, his hair spilling over his forehead and sticking to his skin in sweaty spikes. His eyelids fluttered rapidly, his breath rasping, quick, and shallow.
I nudged him. He didn’t move. Another low moan escaped his throat. He was in pain, and my heart clenched in response.
Shit. I couldn’t leave him there. What if humans found him? I couldn’t take him to the local Alliance doc; he only treated shifters. And if one vampire was looking for him, there might be more. If I left his side, he’d be vulnerable.
I looked at Michael’s big body, slumped on the concrete. I could probably carry him in my human form, but that would draw too much attention, given our sizes. Maybe I could find someplace safe nearby. Then I could leave him and scout out the area.
The vampire couldn’t have gotten far, and I wanted to know what exactly this “bounty” was about.
I dragged Michael a short way and then got him onto my back—no mean trick without hands, let me tell you. It wasn’t easy keeping him balanced there, and he was probably going to have knuckles full of gravel when he woke up from his hands dragging on the ground, but I made it a few blocks away from the restaurant. My progress was slow, but I knew the area well. With some creative thinking, it wasn’t too hard to keep out of sight, going down alleys, cutting through overpasses, and keeping to the shadows. I was spotted once or twice, but most people rubbed their eyes and stared, not believing the sight. There might be some odd calls to the police, but I’d be long gone by the time a patrol car got there.
I kept my head low, looking for a safe place to bunk down and check out Michael’s injuries. My night vision showed me a massive, looming building in the distance. The old abandoned meatpacking plant. It sat in the heart of Fort Worth, a ghastly eyesore that was only opened up at Halloween to run a haunted house.
I circled around to the back of the building, where the shadows were heavier, and dropped Michael off in a dark corner. I paced around the side of the immensely long structure, examining the rows of windows. I had no idea how protected the building was. If there was security, we’d be toast.
Well, there was only one way to find out. I flung my jaguar body through a lower window and waited.
No alarms. Perfect. I jumped back out the window again, shifted quickly to my human form, cleared the glass, and proceeded to shove Michael through the window.
Haunted-house props littered the bottom floor, so I carried Michael deeper in until there was nothing but broken equipment and storage crap, all covered in a thick layer of dust. I laid him in the corner of the room behind a couple of empty cable spools. He was still—too still. I hesitated, then forced myself to get up. I had to make sure he was safe first.
Since I’d carried him through the old warehouse and through most of the city, anyone looking for him wouldn’t find his scent unless they were practically upon him. That was good. I dragged props and crates around him, making a small fortress to protect him. He’d be safe there, as long as we hadn’t been followed.
In case we had been followed, I transformed back to my shifter form and paced through the inside of the old plant, leaving a scent trail that crossed and crisscrossed itself to confuse any trackers. Vampires couldn’t track by scent, but I didn’t trust anything to chance. Then, when Michael was as protected as I could make him, I slipped out the window and headed back toward the alley. I needed my dress, and I needed to scout the area for answers.