into the dark passageway and skidded to a halt.
The male had the little female pinned tight against a wall. Her back pressed into the brick as he loomed over her, his hands against the wall on either side of her, forming a cage.
Julian breathed in the bitter scent of her fear. “Get the fuck away from her,” he bellowed.
The leather-clad vampire spun. Taller and heavier with a hard, merciless face framed by black hair, he reeked menace.
Julian wasn’t intimidated. He could fight one-on-one even if his guts did feel as though they were packed with broken glass. He dropped into a crouch.
The rogue sprang and Julian leapt to meet the attack. They collided with a bone-jarring impact before dropping hard and rolling on the asphalt.
Nails tore into Julian, ripping searing furrows from his left pec down to the waistband of his jeans. The pain was intense, shocking. Warm wetness soaked his shredded shirt. The scent of blood rose, inflaming him.
Hissing, he slashed at his opponent’s throat with a well-aimed swipe. The brute deflected the blow, flipped Julian, and struggled to pin him down.
SARANNA JERKED her phone from her purse and frantically dialed her brother. He answered on the first ring. “Saranna, where are you?”
“Lancaster Alley. Oh, God, hurry.”
“What’s wrong?” Panic filled his voice.
“Just get here. Someone’s going to be killed.” She cut off the call to get him moving. Already on his way to meet her, he couldn’t be more than a couple blocks away.
She clapped a hand over her mouth.
The males struggled on the pavement, growling and slashing at each other. It was already obvious the younger, smaller one, outclassed by age and weight, was going to lose.
As if on cue, the older male attacked with his teeth, ripping his opponent’s throat. Blood spurted and a choked cry came out of the young male, but he didn’t falter.
Oh, God . He’d saved her and he was going to pay with his life. Right in front of her. With her heartbeat roaring in her ears, she fought the urge to flee. She didn’t want to see him killed.
But to her amazement, he delivered a blow that dislodged his attacker. In a move almost too fast to comprehend, the older vampire lay beneath the young one.
A volley of shouts stopped the combatants cold.
The rogue shoved the youngster off and sprang to his feet. He tore down the alley as if the demons of hell were behind him.
Two men in olive uniforms strode toward them, pistols drawn. The young male moaned before launching off the pavement. He grabbed her arm and, dragging her along beside him, propelled her through the alley at a dead run.
She struggled to keep up without falling. Curses trailed behind them. Something whizzed past them and he tightened his hold painfully on her arm.
“Come on!” He yanked her around the corner and hauled her across the street among blaring horns and screaming tires. An SUV skidded to a stop, barely missing them.
He didn’t slow until they were on the opposite side, once again in the shadows of an alley. He released her and staggered over to lean against the wall. He pressed a hand to his throat. Blood leaked between his fingers and dripped onto his sleeve.
Shaking, she tried to slow her breathing.
“Oh, Jesus,” she gasped. The scent of blood and illness clung to him, but the thing revolting her was a raw, unhealed brand on his hand. His skin was an alarming shade of red around the wound and fluid wept from the swollen flesh. The interior of the brand was distended where puss had collected.
Both of his wrists were ringed with partially scabbed over wounds, the hallmark of the shackles used by the government. He’d fought hard and paid the price.
Though sweat beaded his skin, he shivered as if he were freezing. Infection had taken a deep, perhaps fatal, hold on him. Her heart squeezed. He was young, about her age, and dangerously ill, a recipe for disaster.
“You need a doctor,” she said.
His unusually-colored eyes, a
The male had the little female pinned tight against a wall. Her back pressed into the brick as he loomed over her, his hands against the wall on either side of her, forming a cage.
Julian breathed in the bitter scent of her fear. “Get the fuck away from her,” he bellowed.
The leather-clad vampire spun. Taller and heavier with a hard, merciless face framed by black hair, he reeked menace.
Julian wasn’t intimidated. He could fight one-on-one even if his guts did feel as though they were packed with broken glass. He dropped into a crouch.
The rogue sprang and Julian leapt to meet the attack. They collided with a bone-jarring impact before dropping hard and rolling on the asphalt.
Nails tore into Julian, ripping searing furrows from his left pec down to the waistband of his jeans. The pain was intense, shocking. Warm wetness soaked his shredded shirt. The scent of blood rose, inflaming him.
Hissing, he slashed at his opponent’s throat with a well-aimed swipe. The brute deflected the blow, flipped Julian, and struggled to pin him down.
SARANNA JERKED her phone from her purse and frantically dialed her brother. He answered on the first ring. “Saranna, where are you?”
“Lancaster Alley. Oh, God, hurry.”
“What’s wrong?” Panic filled his voice.
“Just get here. Someone’s going to be killed.” She cut off the call to get him moving. Already on his way to meet her, he couldn’t be more than a couple blocks away.
She clapped a hand over her mouth.
The males struggled on the pavement, growling and slashing at each other. It was already obvious the younger, smaller one, outclassed by age and weight, was going to lose.
As if on cue, the older male attacked with his teeth, ripping his opponent’s throat. Blood spurted and a choked cry came out of the young male, but he didn’t falter.
Oh, God . He’d saved her and he was going to pay with his life. Right in front of her. With her heartbeat roaring in her ears, she fought the urge to flee. She didn’t want to see him killed.
But to her amazement, he delivered a blow that dislodged his attacker. In a move almost too fast to comprehend, the older vampire lay beneath the young one.
A volley of shouts stopped the combatants cold.
The rogue shoved the youngster off and sprang to his feet. He tore down the alley as if the demons of hell were behind him.
Two men in olive uniforms strode toward them, pistols drawn. The young male moaned before launching off the pavement. He grabbed her arm and, dragging her along beside him, propelled her through the alley at a dead run.
She struggled to keep up without falling. Curses trailed behind them. Something whizzed past them and he tightened his hold painfully on her arm.
“Come on!” He yanked her around the corner and hauled her across the street among blaring horns and screaming tires. An SUV skidded to a stop, barely missing them.
He didn’t slow until they were on the opposite side, once again in the shadows of an alley. He released her and staggered over to lean against the wall. He pressed a hand to his throat. Blood leaked between his fingers and dripped onto his sleeve.
Shaking, she tried to slow her breathing.
“Oh, Jesus,” she gasped. The scent of blood and illness clung to him, but the thing revolting her was a raw, unhealed brand on his hand. His skin was an alarming shade of red around the wound and fluid wept from the swollen flesh. The interior of the brand was distended where puss had collected.
Both of his wrists were ringed with partially scabbed over wounds, the hallmark of the shackles used by the government. He’d fought hard and paid the price.
Though sweat beaded his skin, he shivered as if he were freezing. Infection had taken a deep, perhaps fatal, hold on him. Her heart squeezed. He was young, about her age, and dangerously ill, a recipe for disaster.
“You need a doctor,” she said.
His unusually-colored eyes, a
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