Bite Deep (34 page)

Around her, the woods were a blur as she fell over broken pines and rocks. She realised at one point she'd dropped her weapon and she knew she had to stop, go back and look for it. But fear spurred her onwards, reminding her that death stalked her.

As she came to a small incline in the woods, she paused to get her breath, a deep pain in her side causing her to double over. As she searched the woods behind her for any sign of pursuit, the pain in her side grew, engulfing her body, and she fell to the ground with a cry, the soft grass damp under her palms. She struggled back to her feet. Spat blood and wondered if she'd bit her lip. Then the pain became crushing, sinking into her like a boulder. Agony roared though her left hand and she lifted it, biting back a scream and watched with horror as the bones in her fingers spasmed, bones snapping and clicking against each other.

She was
changing
.

Horror shot through her, cold and cruel. Jericho had talked about killing her as a kindness, the change being too horrible for an adult to endure. Her body shaking, she tried to think. Tried to clear her mind. Tried to ignore the part of her that wanted to just curl up in a ball and wait for either Jamie or the virus take her. Then her thoughts stuttered to a halt, fixating on a memory. The black case they'd taken from Coulter, in the ute. It was still there, she was sure of it. Hauling herself to her feet, she stumbled back the way she came, trying her best to watch for her pursuer. As she weaved her way back, her stomach cramped and she doubled over with a muted shout as heat scalded her skin. Her head jacked back as another spasm shook her body. Something snapped in her neck and cold sweat soaked her t-shirt, before a blast of arctic cold blew down her spine. Her hands were scorching and pins and needles punctured her legs. She nearly collapsed, panting in short bursts. Clenching her teeth, she dragged herself to her feet again. She knew she had to make it.

Twigs crunched behind her and she tasted an aftershave on the breeze.
Tasted
it. Legs appeared in front of her, then bent. Jamie's face. He was saying something. His mouth was moving, but she couldn't hear him. Couldn't make out the words. She lifted her eyes, saw he looked smug, this killer. No longer the nervous kid who'd asked her out. He was the Hunter she was afraid of, hiding in plain view. She gave a weak cry and stumbled away from him. She ran, nearly sobbing with relief when her home came into view, the Solbergs' ute parked out the front.

Her body slammed against the passenger side, two of her nails breaking when she clawed at the door handle.

‘You can't escape me, Lydia,' Jamie called from the wood's edge.

She swung the door open, but her feet slipped on grass slick with rain and she fell back, her side smacking into metal with a painful jolt. Jamie stalked towards her, knife in hand.

‘I'm Coulter's niece, I have Hunter blood,' she rasped out. ‘You can't do this.'

‘And Coulter is as good as dead, thanks to you,' he said. ‘Your boyfriend and his biker crew took him, you know. I was watching. Guess it proves who the better Hunter is.'

Lydia's fingers reached blindly behind her, searching for the case inside the glove compartment, when her body twitched violently, throat swelling. Her ribcage heaved outward and something cracked open deep inside her. Blood washed down her throat and she gagged, trying to spit it out. Turning, she tried to locate where the black case was, but found the compartment empty.

‘You're changing, aren't you.' He sounded curious. ‘When I was spying on Coulter, I overheard him report you'd been bitten by Breed.'

Lydia moaned as she reached under the front of the seat and nearly cried with relief when her fingers brushed against the rough material of the black case. She snatched it out, unzipping it, just as her spine twisted, throwing her back. Her fingers clutched at the bag tighter and she pulled one of the syringes free.

‘What do you have there?' Jamie tapped the blade against the side of his cheek, leaving a blood smear on his cheek. ‘Is that a vaccination shot you have there? Did get that from Coulter? Apparently it's quite reliant on the DNA of the host. But if you want to try it, I'm happy to wait. Then I promise to make it quick, just like I did for the old woman.'

At the mention of Greta, a dark tide rose in Lydia, followed by a flush of anger. The roaring pain receded a little and she felt herself teetering on the edge of a dark ravine, staring down into a pulsing darkness.

Jamie was still talking about what he was going to do to her, but Lydia was done listening. Done listening to people who thought they could frighten her. She dropped the full needle and Jamie watched it fall, a small crease appearing between his brows.

‘You aren't even going to try and save yourself?' he asked. ‘That's a little disappointing.'

She breathed deep and relaxed, embracing her darkness.

Jamie sighed. ‘I suppose I'll have to finish this now. After all, I'll really be doing you a favour.' He knelt down beside her, pushing her head to the side to expose her throat to him. ‘Trust me, Lydia, I'll be gentle.'

She straightened her head, feeling her hair pull under his grip and smiled. Jamie frowned, clearly hoping for a different reaction. She was happy to disappoint. With a reflex she didn't know she possessed, she knocked the blade out of his hands and wrapped her hands around his arm. But it wasn't her hand she saw. The fingers were too long, joints swollen, nails blackened and sharp, and her skin was changed, turning mottled and coarse. Hair on her arm darkened and grew and the pain shattering her body receded, replaced by a towering strength.

Her eyes rose up to meet Jamie's and she knew she was still smiling, even though his screaming hurt her ears so. She wondered briefly what kind of kind of monster she was becoming and waited for fear to grip her. But it never came. Instead, a great strength surged through her, joined by a realisation that she was now the monster in the woods people should fear. She no longer had to be afraid.

The pungent stink of urine wafted off her prey, and along with it, a sickness. It tasted sour on her tongue and she knew he was ill, with something deadly growing in his body. A tumour, rotting his body from the inside out. She let him go and he turned to run, but she was on him in an instant, knocking him casually to the ground. She pulled one of his arms back, hearing the bones break. He began screaming again and, more than anything, Lydia wanted to taste him, wanted his hot blood to pour down the back of her throat. But the horrific thought was shut down by an inner power that held the monster from blooming whole, as if a semblance of her original self stood before the beast, guarding it from consuming her. She would kill her prey, because his death was the only answer here today. But she would do it her way and not as the beast inside demanded. So she stood and stomped on her would-be killer's legs, snapping them. Then she knelt beside him and reached for his throat, shutting off his air and ending the nightmare.

Chapter 35

Jericho's heart stalled when he spied Lydia lying on the ground, face up. He pulled up near her home, back tyre skidding on gravel. She was staring up into the light rain and he could smell blood all around. He dismounted, pulling the gun from the back of his belt as he hurried over, noting the body near her of a man he didn't immediately recognise.

‘This him?' Reaper walked over, staring down at the body. ‘Looks kind of dead already.'

‘I hate missing a party,' Blades said with a disappointed sigh, then he followed Frost inside the house.

Up close, Jericho could see blood being washed from her face from the rain. ‘Lydia?'

Her eyes blinked and rolled to him. ‘Jericho?'

‘Yeah, baby.' Jericho tucked his gun into the back of his belt and helped her up, running his hands over her body as he checked for injuries.

‘He killed Greta. Dominic is inside, he needs help.' Grief thickened her voice, before she began to cry. Jericho gathered her up in his arms, holding her against him.

‘Frost will check him out.' Jericho ran his hands over her, checking for injuries. ‘Are you hurt?'

‘What did she do to this guy?' Reaper stood over the dead body with a scowl. ‘Looks like most of his bones are broken. How the fuck did she do that?'

Jericho ignored him, helping Lydia to her feet and hearing Blades and Frost exit the house behind him on heavy feet. He turned with Lydia, seeing them regard her with wary faces.

‘The male is unconscious,' Frost reported. ‘Probably a concussion. The woman is dead.'

‘We've got to get her out of here,' Blades said. ‘Clean the scene.'

Beside him, Lydia stiffened and pulled away from him. ‘You can't bury this.'

‘We have to,' Jericho said. ‘And you need to lay low until things calm down.'

‘No—'

He sighed. ‘Please. This isn't an option.'

Reaper tensed beside him and in the moment of a ragged heartbeat, gunshots rang out. It was a sound so out of place at that particular moment, it took Jericho a second to understand what happened. Lydia's eyes widened and she slipped from his grip, crumpling to the ground. He stared down at the blood staining her chest, numb.

‘Lydia?' Knees weak, he sank to the ground beside her, seeing several shots at centre mass. He watched her gasp for breath and his hands fluttered about the wounds, knowing he couldn't help her. Bullets to the chest were enough to end the strongest man.

Lydia's mouth moved silently, as if she wanted to tell him something, but nothing came out. Swallowing, Jericho took one of her limp hands and kissed her fingertips. He could smell Vaughn now, and he was close. From behind him, Reaper was shouting for the Enforcer to lower his weapon. Vaughn shouted a reply, but Jericho didn't listen. He watched Lydia's eyelids closed and a soft exhalation escaped her lips. Reaching out, he smoothed the hair from her face.

‘You let me take care of this,' he told her.

‘I had no choice, Jericho.' Vaughn's voice called to him. ‘She had to go. Now, call your boys off. You don't want your crew to get slapped with treason for shooting an Enforcer.'

Jericho stood and faced Vaughn, his fists clenched and murder on his mind. The Enforcer stood at the wood's edge a few feet away, a rifle raised in one hand. Karla stood to his right, and Jericho narrowed his eyes at her with a silent accusation. The female Breed stiffened.

‘If the King was here, he would have ordered her death, Jericho,' she called out. ‘She'd been bitten and you hadn't taken care of it.'

Jericho reached for the gun at his back. ‘You talk a lot of shit, Karla.'

‘Bulldog?'

He heard the question in Blades' voice, the one that asked if he wanted Vaughn and Karla dead.

‘They're mine,' Jericho answered. ‘No one interferes.'

He sensed, rather than saw Reaper reach for him, as if to give counsel. A shot sounded and the big man staggered back.

‘Fucker shot me.' Reaper stared down at his leg in surprise. Blades and Frost were hunkered down, hands close to their own weapons. But they held back, obeying Jericho's order. This was his fight.

‘You got silver bullets in that gun?' Jericho called out to Vaughn, watching as the Enforcer hesitated. He grinned. ‘No. You came primed to kill a human, didn't you. Not Breed.' He threw his gun aside. ‘You just killed someone I cared for. Which means I'm going to end you.'

‘Don't be stupid,' Vaughn said. ‘I breeched no pack law here. Merely fulfilled an obligation you refused to do in putting down an infected Hunter.'

Jericho's grin turn feral. ‘I'm gonna rip you in half, Enforcer.'

‘Don't be stupid, Jericho,' Karla spoke up. ‘You can't beat Vaughn in a fight and you know it. Don't throw your life away over the woman. She isn't worth it.'

Jericho's eyes slid to her. ‘You have no idea what she was worth.'

Vaughn opened his mouth to say something more, but Jericho was done listening. He sprinted for his enemy, felt a bullet pass by his head and another punch his shoulder. He ignored it, taking the Enforcer in a flying embrace. They landed heavy on the wet ground, Jericho grappling furiously to gain the upper hand. Vaughn had defeated him before, as he'd tried to protect his king. And now, the same enemy had taken Lydia from him, the fact shredding his soul till nothing was left but a hell-born rage.

Jericho managed to break loose from Vaughn and rolled to his feet, seeing the Enforcer do the same. In the distance, he could hear his crew calling out encouragement, while Karla screamed for them to stop.

Vaughn ran for him and his blows landed heavy against Jericho's side, winding him. He kept his hands up, shot in for a right hook. But as he swung, Vaughn bent and grabbed one of Jericho's legs, pulling him off balance. Jericho landed in a patch of mud with a grunt and then Vaughn was on top of him, hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing. Fear spluttered to life inside Jericho, fear that maybe he wasn't strong enough. After all, he'd failed once in a battle with Vaughn when it mattered the most.

‘Get up, Bulldog.'

His crew calling out to him. Letting him know they believed he could win. He thought of Lydia, now lying lifeless in the mud, and memory bought with it fresh rage. Her only crime was for her path to cross his. The hope of a life together had been torn from him. Fury sizzled through him, thinking of the life he'd never have with her. Jericho roared and thrust forward, smacking his forehead into Vaughn's nose. The Enforcer's hands loosened enough for him to twist out, but when he tried to stand, his bad knee gave way. Falling back in a puddle of mud, Vaughn was on him seconds later, taking him in a heavy tackle. He felt the other man's fists smash into him and Jericho embraced the pain, gathering what strength he had left.

With a gut-wrenching howl, he twisted out of Vaughn's hold and looped his arms around the Enforcer's neck and squeezed. Vaughn's body fought him, tearing Jericho's clothes, scratching and bruising his body, but Jericho didn't relent. One of Vaughn's hands dropped to his boot and Jericho heard a dagger pull loose, saw it flash towards him. It sank into his arm and he grunted as it embedded deep, hitting bone. He let Vaughn go and wrenched the blade out with a grimace. Vaughn stayed on his hands and knees, gasping for breath.