Miranda sucked in a hard breath. Cain could more than take care of himself. He was a shifter. A freaking jaguar, but—

He was her shifter, and she was worried.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Sam’s gun. Her hand flew forward, only to be caught in a surprisingly strong grip.

Her gaze lifted. Met Sam’s.

“Cain.” Not a question.

She gave a slow nod.

He flinched. “Christ. I . . . don’t need . . . this shit.”

And now really wasn’t the time for explanations.

“Take . . . it.” He released her, and his hand rose to his throat. He touched the jagged wound and winced. “Make . . . certain . . . Cain gets the b-bastard.”

She would.

Using the wall for support, she climbed to her feet. She was still dizzy, woozy as hell, but the black lights were gone from her vision.

And she wasn’t going to give in to the numbing lethargy sweeping through her body. Not yet. Not until she made certain Cain was safe and that the devil was dead.

When her hand rose, she realized she’d left a bloody handprint on the white paint. Miranda swallowed and curled her fingers around the gun. Aim and shoot. That’s all she’d have to do.

If the vampire would just stay down . . .

Just what would it take to kill one of his kind?

She was about to find out.

But first, shit, first she was gonna have to crawl through that window, because there was no way she’d be able to move the furniture Sam had barricaded before her door.

I’m coming, Cain.

Nine

The pads of his feet pounded against the ground. He had the vampire in his sights. The world around him shifted into a deadly red hue.

Rage.

The jaguar had only one purpose then, to kill.

The scent of Miranda’s blood was in the air, mixing with the vampire’s. The stench of the undead killer burned his nose and had his whiskers jerking.

This time, there would be no escape for Paul Roberts. No mercy.

The jaguar had none, and neither did the man.

In one bounding lunge, he tackled the vampire, sending Roberts crashing to the ground with the crunch of bones and the thud of flesh hitting earth.

Roberts screamed in pain and rage, and twisted beneath him.

The jaguar let the vampire roll. He always liked to look into the eyes of his prey. The better to let the quarry know what hell waited.

The vampire’s lips twisted into what probably would have been a smile. Blood dripped down his chin. “Five more minutes . . . shifter. I’d . . . have . . . ch-changed her. Th-then she would have been mine.”

He snarled.

“Wh-what would you have done . . . then?”

Loved her anyway. The answer came from the heart of the man.

“I’ll . . . get her.”Cain’s claws embedded in Paul’s chest. The vampire coughed. Choked. “I’ll . . . g-get free . . . go af-after—”

Never play with prey. His mother had taught him that.

Cain knew exactly how to kill a vampire. It was all too easy with his teeth and claws.

Roberts screamed again when Cain moved in for that final attack.

Then . . . silence.

He jumped away from the severed head and the body. Didn’t look at the remains of the vampire’s chest.

And he caught the scent of honeysuckle on the wind.

No, not now, not—

His head jerked to the right, and she was there. Standing in the light of the moon, her hair a dark, wild tangle around her pale face. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were on the vampire’s body.

Or what was left of it.

Her right hand gripped a gun, one that was pointed at him.

She’d seen the beast kill. Seen him kill. He’d been so caught up in the red fury of bloodlust that he hadn’t even sensed her.

Miranda had seen him as he’d never, ever wished her to see him.

Predator. Savage. Killer.

Her breath came fast and hard. Pounded in his ears as he crept closer to her, his head down. He wanted her to touch him. To look at him not with fear, but with—

Hell, more.

Her mouth trembled. The gun lowered and its nose hovered over the ground.

He needed to hold her. To pull her close and feel the warmth of her body against his. For that, he needed to be a man.

The change wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t easy. It was, in fact, nearly as brutal as the act he’d just committed.

But she’d already seen him at his worst.

And she wasn’t running, not yet.

Cain let the all-consuming fire of the change sweep through him. The crack of bones once again filled the air as his body shifted from beast to man. The fur dissolved. Dark, tanned skin reappeared. Claws returned to fingernails. The jaguar’s lethal teeth receded, became those of a man.

His fingers pressed against the earth. His knees dug into the ground. And the whole time, he kept his stare on her.

When the transformation was finished, he rose slowly. Closed the last distance between them. He was naked and when he lifted his hand toward her, he saw the blood that still stained his fingers.

It had always been there. From the first kill.

Miranda hesitated. Carefully put the gun onto the ground. “Cain . . .”

He didn’t know what to say, but he knew this was the most important moment in his life. If she left him now, there would be no coming back.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Humans always did have piss-poor timing.

His fingers curled into a fist. He wanted her so much, but she deserved better than an animal.