“Open up,” I said. I knew then how bad he was hurt. In the past, Alex fought taking any kind of supplement or herbs. Like a child, he would spit and pout and hold his breath. But this time he just opened his mouth and let me pour the sluggish contents down his throat.

He gacked, heaved, shook his head, and then settled back against my leg. For now, it was the best I could do.

“Deanna.” She lifted her head.

“Yes?”

“I’m going out. I’ll take Alex and Pamela with me, we won’t be long.”

She was already shaking her head. “What if the vampire comes back?”

I shrugged. “Take a message for me.”

Bundling Pamela into the last of my dry, clean clothes and letting her wear my leather jacket, we headed back out into the weather toward the station. Alex was slow, and I eased my usual stride so he could keep up.

“Rylee, will he be okay?” She didn’t need to say who ‘he’ was.

“Will is a shifter. He’ll be fine,” I said as we turned the corner. We were only a few minutes away from the station and I could already see the grey exterior. And the flood of cops spewing out of it.

I put a hand out, barring Pamela from stepping ahead.

“What is it?” she whispered, immediately picking up on my tension.

Alex lifted his head and sniffed the air. “Stinkers.”

The flood of officers out of the station eased off, and then came a new—or should I say old and rotting—mess of bodies piling after them.

Hundreds of ‘stinkers,’ as Alex put it, poured out of the main doors, grabbing and biting anything close enough for them. The cops fired into the horde, but the bullets swerved and dodged, sometimes swinging back. Fuck, when would they ever learn?

“Stay with me, no matter what,” I said, jogging toward the zombies. When I was close enough for the officers to hear me, I yelled out over the screams. “Guns won’t work, you morons! Swords, knives, but no ever-loving guns!”

A few listened, but the tide of flesh wasn’t really stemmed. Distantly, I wondered how the FBI and Interpol would spin this catastrophe to the public. Then all thoughts flew from my head as I made my first swing with my sword, slicing a zombie in half with a wet crunch of bone and gristle. The smell of rotting flesh intensified, sharp and lingering along my nasal passages.

Pamela retched behind me.

“Stay with me,” I said.

Alex let out a growl and a zombie coming in fast on my right went down in a flurry of teeth and snarls. For a submissive werewolf, he’d come a long way.

Swing after swing of my swords and the snatch and decapitate technique Alex was employing brought us to the main doors. A peek inside showed that while there were still zombies, there weren’t as many. Maybe thirty in the main room, not too bad at all. I used the back of my hand to wipe my forehead.

Pamela pointed. “They’re coming up the stairs.”

So they were. What kind of game was the Necromancer playing now?

A flicker of movement and the sense that someone was behind me was the only warning I got. I tried to dodge out of the zombie’s hands, but he was a big bastard, with mitts almost as big as Alex’s paws—mitts that pinned my arms to my sides, making my swords pretty much useless.

“Get the f**k off me!” I flung my body to the side and jerked him off balance, but he didn’t let go, not even an inch.

“You will leave my master alone,” he slurred out, his voice a drunken monotone.

I froze, pulled myself together, and answered. “Nope, not until he stops taking kids. He’s a perverted freak of nature.”

The zombie roared, and I knew that the Necromancer was hearing what I said. Good.

“I’m coming for you a**hole!” My blood surged, adrenaline pounding through my body even if my arms were pinned. I kicked at the zombie, taking out one of his knees. A second kick blasted out the other kneecap, jagged edges of bone poking out of the ripped flesh. Still he hung on.

The zombie reared back and then his head shot forward, teeth slamming into my lower back just above my hip. Without my leather jacket, he burrowed his face into my flesh like a dog with a bone. The bite and the force behind it sent us both stumbling in through the main doors.

I couldn’t stop the scream that ripped out of me. Alex tackled the big zombie, but the rotter’s teeth were still in me; a hunk of skin and flesh went with the creature. Snarling and twisting, Alex tore the zombie’s head off. I was on my hands and knees, shaking with pain; a quick glance back at my hip made me turn my head away.

The wound was bad. Blood poured out and down my leg, and around my belly. The remaining zombies paused what they were doing and lifted their heads. That much is true about rotters—they love the smell of fresh blood. Like a school of dumb sharks, blood drew them as nothing else would.

I was so f**ked.

“Pamela, you need to stop them.” I fumbled to get my shirt off. I had to stuff the bite wound with something, anything to staunch the flow of blood. The straps from my sword sheaths got in my way and I fought with them, panicking.

Pale, Pamela nodded, then whipped her arms outward, flicking all ten fingers. The remaining zombies flew backwards faster than I could blink and smashed against the concrete walls. Pinned there with her magic, they groaned and mumbled, but didn’t fight overly much.

Standing, I locked my knees to keep from tumbling over. This was a bad injury, the zombie must have hit an artery because I was feeling rather faint. . . that was the last thought I had as the room swirled and the darkness claimed me.

Of course, it was just my luck it wasn’t a blissful, quiet darkness. No . . . I had to open my eyes to see Faris leaning over me.

“Zombies? Really, so cliché,” he said, smiling like it was a joke that I should get.

Whatever. “Tell that to the Necromancer,” I grunted, pushing him away, my hand flat against his chest. Instead, he put his hand over mine and yanked me to my feet, still hanging onto me.

It briefly crossed my mind that every time I ran into Faris, or more accurately, he ran into me, I was less afraid of him. That probably wasn’t a good thing, I was getting comfortable with the vampire. No, definitely not a good thing at all.

He continued to hold my hand, and softened his voice. “I need your help, Rylee. You saw my memory. You see what I’m up against. I want to keep the vampire nation as it is. Out of sight. As it should be.”

I pulled at my hand, but he only tightened his grip. “Yeah, I saw what you saw. But memories can be tricky. It’s all about perception.”

“And what is your perception of me?” One finger trailed along the top of my hand, down around to the underside of my wrist and back up again.

I refused to acknowledge the more than pleasant tingle it gave me. Fucking refused.

It took everything I had to keep my heart rate under control. “That you are a master manipulator. Like all vampires.”

His eyebrows went up. “All vampires? And how many of us have you met?”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, it’s the same thing as any other species in the supernatural world. We have our quirks, each of us. Vampires are manipulators, that’s a given. It’s how I’d Track them if I had to.”

Faris’ eyes narrowed. “How enlightening.”

Oh shit, I should never have opened my big fat mouth. Faris hadn’t known I could Track more than individuals. I shook my head in an effort to cover my big ass blunder. “Just pointing out the obvious.” But my heart betrayed me, thrumming like it was in a freaking rock band.

The vampire smiled at me. “I’m glad Jack Feen is teaching you. I need you at your best. Which, I suppose, must mean that I need to heal up that nasty bite for you.”

Before I could protest, his free hand slipped around my waist, covering my hip where the bite was on my physical body. That wasn’t too bad. But the moment his lips covered mine and the little groan of pleasure slipped out of my mouth, horror hit me.

I was willingly kissing a vampire when I was in love with Liam.

Faris jerked back as if I’d stung him. “You would think of him, while I kiss you?”

The rage was not expected. Nor was what he said next as he strode away into the darkness.

“She is mine, wolf. One way or another. Rylee is mine.”

20

I shot straight up, gasping for air as if I’d been—

Pamela grabbed me in a fierce hug. “You weren’t breathing, there was so much blood.”

Everything around me moved as if on high speed, people rushing, paper crinkling, all my senses were in overdrive. The scent of blood and rot overwhelmed my nose and I covered my face. I knew I had to get up and move, this was—

I was standing. How the hell had that happened? Chills swept through me and the taste of Faris’ kiss trickled through my mouth. Fuck, he’d imprinted me.

Pamela was talking to me, tugging on my arm, Alex stared at me, his eyes wide and worried. All I could hear was the beat of their respective hearts. Pamela’s was wild and erratic in her fear, Alex’s beat slow as his body continued to heal as best it could.

“Just give me a minute,” I said, waving them off. The zombie situation was more or less under control; however long I’d been out had been enough for the cops to get their asses in gear.

It took an effort to walk slowly, to make my legs move at a normal pace. From what I understood, this would last a short time—how short I didn’t know for sure. And then it would fade and I’d be back to my regular self, whenever the hell that was going to be.

The bathroom was empty but for one zombie who I promptly slid my sword through, removing its head with a slurping pop. I leaned against the sink and stared into the mirror, watching my breath fog it up. My eyes were still my own, a swirl of chocolate, emerald and gold.

Imprinting was how vampires bound their subjects to them. Blood on blood was how it was done, and it was the first step in making someone a vampire. Which meant the vampire’s bite was like a poison, something my Immunity blocked. As I stared into the mirror, my hearing settled down, the smells I shouldn’t have been able to smell faded.