Dark Peril (23 page)

He studied his enemy. He had expected to go into that camp and eventually die. Now, a miracle had happened. He could rid his body of the parasites and claim his lifemate. There was a future for him—for both of them—and that changed everything. He would have to be much more careful. He had everything to live for now. Before when he went into battle there was nothing to lose. Life changed dramatically when one found the other half of his soul. He wanted to live. He wanted to spend time with her. He could rise every evening for the rest of his existence, looking into her eyes.

Giles suddenly lifted his head and took a quick look around. A quick, piercing probe struck at Dominic, a fast, hard attack directed at the surroundings, a push to draw out the enemy. Dominic felt the stabbing pain, dismissing it, calming the bird, keeping the brain patterns the same so as not to alert the enemy to his presence. The probe passed slowly, but he remained deep within the eagle, holding himself still. The bird was hungry, looking for food, sharp eyes watching for prey before it settled down for the night. The probe came again, harder, deeper, the shaft painful and precise. The bird spread its wings and then resettled as Giles moved on, satisfied there were no enemies around.

“Where is Etienne?” Giles demanded.

“He was searching for tracks, hoping to find out where Zacarias might have gone.”

“Stupide! Imbécillité!”
Giles hissed his displeasure. “He has no hope of killing Zacarias. He is already destroyed.” With a wave of disgust, Giles spat on the ground. Tiny white parasites wiggled and writhed.

“The others should be here in a few days,” Beau said, clearly hoping Giles would allow a change of subject.

“If we have lost Demyan and his followers, we have few to spread the plans. I am representing the
masters
. We need to get our people organized for a telling strike against the prince. He must be brought to his knees.”

The three men moved toward the laboratory. As they approached the human guards, Giles held his hand up to the others and whispered a command. “Leave them. You are human.”

Dominic was shocked at the way the vampires immediately assumed the demeanor of a human, keeping their eyes on the ground rather than looking at the temptation of human flesh and blood. They felt utter contempt for and despised the human men they were working with, yet they didn’t fall on them and feast on them as they normally would have. Dominic felt the voracious hunger, the call to blood, the parasites shrieking with desire for the rich hot temptation, even the need just to show those so inferior to them who they were. Yet the vampires simply ignored the call.

The
masters
had done a good job forcing their wills on the lesser vampires. That alone represented a danger. The behavior had evolved into actual intelligence. Vampires had always been cunning and lethal, but a coordinated group with intelligence and strategy behind them, with the ability to control those deadly, powerful creatures, was shocking and even frightening.

The Malinov brothers had amassed an army consisting of jaguars, humans and vampires. They had a plan and they had a semblance of discipline. To Dominic, it was the discipline that was most troublesome. He watched the vampires disappear inside the building before he spread his wings and took to the sky to find Etienne. The vampire wouldn’t be returning to his master, but it would be Dominic who would contribute to Zacarias’s fierce reputation.

The harpy eagle cut through the canopy with astonishing speed, moving fast to cover the distance before Etienne found the resting place of Zacarias. Dominic knew the hunter had actual homes in the area. It was possible he’d gone to one of them. The De La Cruz brothers had, centuries earlier, established a relationship with a human family who guarded them during the day, watched over their lands and helped to maintain the illusion that they were human. They had built an empire, their cattle ranches renowned, but their enemies often went after their family members as well. Zacarias would have strong safeguards, but if the vampire tracked him to his home, the humans would be in danger. At this hour, Zacarias would be out hunting.

He spotted the place where their fight with Demyan and his lesser vampires had taken place. The area at first glance appeared undisturbed, but as he swooped lower, he could see the withered vegetation where it had shrunk from the unnatural abomination treading upon the ground as Etienne and the other vampires had searched for Demyan. Some of the brush had shriveled where the undead had passed.

The harpy eagle flew toward the river, taking a direct route. Dominic was suddenly worried about what he might find. On the edge of the trees, the De La Cruz’s sprawling ranch was nestled into the valley between the rolling hills. It was surrounded by forest, but meticulously maintained, so the cattle could roam freely in the lush grasses. The house, Spanish style, with thick walls and cool verandahs, was shaped like a U with a courtyard in the center. The green of the courtyard provided an oasis of sorts, colors rioting with one another from the various flowers and bushes.

Along the stone walkway, the sharp eyes of the eagle spotted bright red blood. The small stream was narrow and slowly moved along the stones in a thin crimson line. Dominic dropped down, shifting to his human form as he bent over the fallen man. He had fought, but the vampire had nearly ripped out his throat. He was already dead, and Dominic left him, striding into the house. The door had been left open, providing him with a good view of the long, shaded room.

He heard a snarl and a hard slap coming from another room.

“Where is he?” Etienne demanded, his voice spitting and hissing, alerting Dominic that he was fast losing control.

“I’ll
never
tell you.”

A female voice. Fairly young. Terrified. Just the way the vampire liked them. The rush of adrenaline in the blood would serve as a drug flooding the system.

“So you would die for him.”

“Yes.” The voice trembled, but the word was firm.

Dominic burst through the door as dramatically as possible, hoping to throw the vampire’s timing off. Etienne spun even as he delivered the killing blow, swiping at the woman’s throat, tearing through arteries and vocal cords and flesh. Blood sprayed across the room. The woman clamped both hands to her throat and went to her knees even as Dominic leapt the distance, slamming hard into the undead, driving him away from the woman.

A roar announced the arrival of Zacarias. He burst through the window, shattering glass and adobe. Debris rained down on them as Dominic seized the vampire with one hand and drove into his chest with the other. Etienne dissolved, trying to stream from the room through the open window. Droplets of blood trailed after him, giving him away in the bank of mist.

Zacarias dropped to his knees and gently removed the woman’s hands from her throat. She was young, even for human years, perhaps in her early twenties. Her eyes were dark brown, very large, framed with long black lashes. He could see the light receding from her eyes, but she looked glad to see him alive. For some reason, that little flutter of recognition moved him after so many centuries of emptiness. Her family had given his family service generation after generation. Her father lay dead in his courtyard and this young woman was dying on her bedroom floor, obviously trying to protect his resting place.

He wrapped his hands around her throat and pressed heat into her skin, bright and hot and painful for her, he knew. He couldn’t prevent the pain, not with the life draining from her body so fast. Her throat was crushed. He sent himself outside his body and into hers, working as fast as possible to repair the damage to the artery, to stem the flow of precious blood. Trusting Dominic to keep the undead from him while he worked on the woman, he left his body vulnerable to attack while he meticulously cauterized the artery, closing and sealing the gaping wound.

Without thought of the consequences, Zacarias slit his wrist and dripped blood into her mouth, stroking until her reflex allowed her to swallow. He had to guide the blood through her torn throat to allow it to soak through her veins and into every cell of her body. He replaced what she’d lost, giving no thought to leaving himself too weak to move. There was no blood supply for him, not with Dominic’s blood so contaminated. Right at that moment it didn’t matter to him.

This woman’s family had done so much for the De La Cruz family, and he wasn’t going to lose her. He’d seen her a couple of times moving through his house, cleaning, always in the distance. He rarely went near anyone these days. The call of the darkness had become strong in him these last years and he spent most of his time alone, far from temptation. He rarely used this house, until these last few weeks. His brothers had lifemates, and that only increased the darkness in him as he felt separated from them, so long alone. He didn’t know any other way of life, so he had come here to put distance between him and his brothers. But in doing so, he had endangered those people who were under his protection.

Zacarias managed to get his feet under himself and, bending, took the woman’s slight weight in his arms, cradling her close to his chest. He was strong, but he had awakened ravenous and the scent of blood only increased his need. Giving her blood had weakened him further. He carried her through the house to the master bedroom, the one situated over his lair. Her braid was long and thick, a mass of blue-black hair, now stained with blood. He had no idea if she would live or die, but he’d done what he could. He laid her on the bed and covered her body with a blanket before turning back toward the sound of the battle.

Hideous growls erupted, as Etienne fought the trap Dominic had encased him in, making it impossible to stay in the form of vapor. Blood streaked Dominic’s face and shoulder. Savage claw marks slashed through two places in his chest, ripping through clothes as the vampire had tried to get to the hunter’s heart. Etienne was no amateur at battle, and he fought with magic and skill, knowing he was facing an ancient adept at destroying the undead.

Etienne looked worse than Dominic, black blood streaking his body. He had lost his ability to keep his appearance, his skin tight against his skull, so that he looked like a walking skeleton. His once dark hair was muddy gray, long tufts of it, like tails sticking out over a mostly bald skull. His eyes were sunken pits of hate, and his teeth had taken their serrated, pointed shape, coated with the blood of his many victims.

Dominic rushed in, gripped the head in his large hands and wrenched, diving away as Etienne raked again with bloody, sharp talons. There was an audible crack and Etienne shrieked, whirling so fast he was a blur, leaping on Dominic, driving him to the ground, his face elongating into a muzzle with dripping fangs. He opened his jaws wide and drove hard at Dominic’s neck.

Zacarias’s foreman, Cesaro Santos, ran into the yard with three of his men behind him, all carrying rifles. They skidded to a halt when they saw the undead tearing at Dominic, half-skeleton and half-animal. Before anyone could move, a jaguar rushed past the three men to slam at full force into the back of the undead, knocking him over so that he somersaulted and landed hard several feet away.

Dominic had already dissolved out from under him, sliding around with the intention of taking the vampire’s heart, but he was no longer in position. The jaguar’s next bound took her right onto the vampire’s back. Her teeth crunched down on the head and she shook it like a rag doll. The skull cracked like a nut, the bones crushing the brain. One of the men beside Cesaro lifted his rifle to his shoulder, but Zacarias was there before he could pull the trigger, pushing the muzzle toward the ground. Cesaro ripped open his shirt, exposing his neck to Zacarias.

“Take what you need,” he offered.

Zacarias could hear his heart pounding. The temptation was too much. He’d never be able to stop, not in the heat of battle when he was so ravenous. He shook his head and stepped away, his fangs bursting into his mouth. He would
not
endanger those who served him, those under his protection. Better to meet the dawn than to succumb now.

I’m sorry.
Realizing her mistake, Solange apologized to Dominic, as she tried to back away from the undead.

Etienne ripped at her, a lucky swipe tearing through the fur at her belly. He caught her in the air, tossing the large cat with his enormous strength. She landed hard a distance from him. He crawled toward her, his head wobbling, the insides spilling out.

No problem,
Dominic answered with his unfailing calm.
We will learn to coordinate our attacks in time. Move to your right just a little, slow enough that he thinks he can get to you, but that you are circling for another try. When I move, leap away fast.

Dominic felt her calm assurance. She knew how to fight, and with a vampire, he was the acknowledged master. She was too intelligent and too experienced not to recognize that. Had she not interfered, he would have already had the undead’s heart. It was a lesson and she learned fast. He respected the fact that she didn’t beat herself up for mistakes. She simply did what had to be done.

The female jaguar began her circle, her green eyes glowing as she fixed on her prey. Head down, ears rotated backward, indicating aggression without fear, she began a slow stalk, never taking her eyes from her prey.

The humans stepped back, loathing in their eyes as they watched the jaguar circle the vampire, rifles at the ready. The only thing holding them back from firing was the will of their
Chefe
or
Jefe
, depending on which language they were thinking in. They detested both species. For too long they had endured the jaguar-men abusing their women. They had to guard the women carefully at all times, curtailing their freedom near the forest. The vampire was an ever-present threat that hung over their heads and threatened their boss as well as their families. Well versed in the ways to kill a vampire, each of them was armed with a stake, a torch and a cross as well as their rifles.