Not Quite Dead (A NightHunter Novel) (19 page)

"Tristan. It's me, Jordyn. I'm your friend." There was no way Tristan would hurt her. He had practically given up his soul to save her life.

But he kept advancing, the slow inexorable approach of death. His fingernails were curved into claws, and his eyes began to glow an even brighter red. "Tristan! Stop it! Back off!" She edged to her right, toward the storage cabinet that was now on its side, dented and twisted from Tristan hurling it across the room. The lock had broken from the impact, leaving the door ajar. What did David have in there? Would it save her?

Tristan kept watching her, his gaze riveted on her as she inched to the side. She kept talking to him, trying to bring him back from the monster that had him in its grip. "I know you're in there, Tristan. You don't want to hurt me. I know you don't." She reached the cabinet and nudged the door open with her foot, trying to peek inside without alarming Tristan.

"No."

She jumped, startled by his voice. It was rough and ragged, as if he'd been screaming for days. She looked at him sharply, her heart breaking for the torment in his voice. "Tristan—"

"You are
mine
." His lips curled, revealing gleaming white fangs, and then he sprang at her with lightning fast speed.

She yelped and dove to the right, but he was on her before she even hit the floor.

Eric awoke with a start, adrenaline screaming through him. He instantly realized he was trapped. Something was holding him down. Something that hurt his skin, like a thousand razor blades bleeding acid into his flesh.

Menace was thick in the air, and the atmosphere was heavy with the scent of evil. He didn't move. He didn't even open his eyes. He just snapped into full consciousness, his instincts warning of immense danger. He reached out with his mind, sending his power in all directions to summon spirits to assist him. Magic came fast and furious, humming through him with violent strength. With a roar of fury, he thrust it outward and exploded the chains off him.

The metal links slammed into the walls, clattering to the floor. He rolled off the metal table, and landed on his feet. Every muscle in his body hurt. His head was pounding, and he was so hungry his insides felt like they were twisted into a ball of barbed wire.

He looked around, quickly assessing his environment. He was in a small room that contained nothing other than the metal table that he'd been chained to, and a long table of computer monitors. Where the hell was he? The sensation of darkness and doom grew heavier, as if the air itself was tainted with malevolence. He spun around, searching, trying to remember what had happened.

His neck was sore, and he brushed his fingers over it instinctively. The moment that he touched his flesh, the memories of it all came flashing back. The attack. Jordyn bringing him to her friend. The fire incinerating his flesh. The kiss.
The kiss.
"Jordyn!"

He whirled around, searching again, this time for her. He was in a small, enclosed room with steel walls, including the door. He sprinted for the door, and tried the handle, but it was locked.

Trapped.

He spun around, swiftly assessing his prison. There was a row of computer screens on a table against one wall, and there were what looked like grainy security videos on them. He leapt across the room and slammed his hands down on the table as he stared at the screens. The lab was in shambles, and a man was leaping across the room, sailing through the air like a predator. "Tristan!" Eric shouted his name, and his brother stopped, swinging around to face the camera.

Eric swore at the sight of his brother's face. His cheeks were sunken, and ashen. His eyes were haunted, almost glowing with anguish. He was so thin, his coiled muscles straining against his flesh, his clothes hanging in tatters from his beleaguered frame. He rested his fingers on the screen. "Tristan," he whispered. "What happened to you?"

Movement behind Tristan caught his attention, and Eric's gaze shot to the far wall. For an instant, he couldn't make out what had moved, and then he saw Jordyn crawling across the carnage toward David's upended storage cabinet. Blood was pouring down her temple, and her shirt was torn. He went cold. "Jordyn!" He bellowed her name, and she looked at the wall to her right, not at the camera.

She lunged for the wall, and he heard a thud behind him. He spun around as she banged on the wall. "Eric! Help me!"

He looked back and forth between the pounding and the camera, and he realized his makeshift prison was adjacent to the lab. "Jordyn!"

There was a guttural growl from the other room, and Eric saw Tristan turn away from the camera, back toward Jordyn.

She dove for David's upended cabinet and yanked open the door. She frantically started digging through it as Tristan faced her. "Eric!" Her scream ripped through the wall. "He's a vampire! Get out here and help me!"

"A vampire?" Eric went cold when he saw Tristan coil his body, as if preparing to launch himself at Jordyn. His fingers were curved in a clawed grip. "Tristan!" He bellowed at his brother. "Cut the crap! Back off!"

Slowly, Tristan turned his head to look back at the camera. He lifted his upper lip in a snarl, and Eric saw his teeth. They were pointed and gleaming white. He gripped the desk in shock. "Holy shit," he whispered.

Then Tristan slammed his fist toward the camera. It went black, and Eric lost sight of the lab.

"Eric!" Jordyn screamed again, and there was a low growl from the lab, and then a crash.

"Tristan! Stop it!" Eric whirled toward the door and sucked in every sliver of energy, spirit, and magic in the room. He inhaled it into every pore of his body, until his skin almost burst. Then he faced the steel door. "Say goodbye," he muttered, and then thrust all his energy against the door. His power exploded with a crushing roar and slammed into the door, then ricocheted back at him, hurling him against the far wall.

He crashed into the table of computer monitors, and fragments of glass pierced his flesh as he fell to the ground. He leapt to his feet, staggering in pain as he reached behind him and yanked a shard of glass out of his back.

The door wasn't even dented. Son of a bitch. David had reinforced the door with something magical.

There was another scream, and another crash. "Eric!"

Sweat poured down his temples as Eric swung around, searching the room for some weakness in the structure. Nothing. He was in a sealed steel vessel. "Tristan!" he shouted. "Back off!" He summoned more magic, and hammered at the door again.

Again, it rebounded at him and flung him against the far wall. He groaned as he hit the ground, but he was already calling back the magic and spirits the moment he landed. "Come on!" He barely managed to pull himself to his knees as he heard another scream and another crash. He thrust another round of power at the door, and it once again bounced back.

His head hit the steel wall, and for a split second, blackness fluttered through his mind. Crap. He didn't have time to knock himself out. Jordyn needed him! Battling dizziness, he made it to his knees, bracing himself on his hands as he studied the door. He hadn't even scratched it. Son of a bitch. Jordyn was dying out there, and he couldn't even save her?

Fuck that.

He sprang to his feet and braced his legs. He bowed his head and spread his fingers wide down by his hips. He closed his eyes, and then reached way inside him. Energy spun through him, searing through his cells. He took it deeper and deeper into him. He felt the darkness of Tristan's spirit. The evil that stank in the swamp. He reached out across every inch of space, and he drew upon every spirit in the air. The evil. The darkness. The raw, pure power of hate. He drank it all into him, and he didn't block it.

His mind began to spin with images of the hell he had once lived. Death. Destruction. Carnage. Evil.
Pure evil.
His skin shifted, becoming translucent, revealing the swirling miasmas of energy beneath the surface. For a moment, he hesitated, knowing all too well the cost of going any further.

"Eric!" Jordyn's scream ripped through him, and he made his choice.

He dropped his shields, and he let the spirits consume him.

"Tristan!" Jordyn stumbled as she backed away from Tristan, holding the last stake she'd found in David's cabinet. She'd managed to grab four stakes from the broken cabinet, and she'd already used three of them. Only one left, and Tristan was still standing. Blood was trickling down her neck, and she felt dizzy. "You don't need to do this, Tristan," she said, trying desperately to reach him. "You don't have to be a victim! You're not a monster!"

He was down on one knee, one hand braced on the floor while he gripped the stake that she'd shoved into his heart when he'd bitten her. His pale fingers tightened on the wood, and he yanked it out.

She grimaced as he flinched, and then he looked up at her, still kneeling on the ground. His blond hair was tousled and dirty. His eyes were glowing red, and his face was the cold, lethal visage of a predator. "You're mine," he said. His voice had been rough and ragged when he'd first shown up, but after biting her three times, it was silky smooth, rolling over her like a dangerous seduction.

Chills raced down her arms as she held up the stake. "Don't do it," she warned.

"The stakes can't kill me," he said as he rose to his feet, moving with the languid grace of a predator. Three times he'd bitten her, and each time she'd staked him, taking advantage of the moment when he first tasted her blood and was sucked into the bloodlust. Each time, the blow had knocked him down, but each time, he'd gotten back up before she could get past him to the door. "You're mine, Jordyn. We both know it." He held out his hand to her, his eyes still red with a dangerously feral gleam. "Come with me."

Sensual compulsion slid through her, and she felt a silky touch glide across her cheek, as if he'd caressed her with his mind. To her shock, desire licked through her belly, desire that was his, not hers. Dear God, was this the power of the vampire? That he could incite lust in his victims even if they were repulsed by him? Not that she was
repulsed
exactly, but sexual attraction was simply not a part of her relationship with him. "You're like my brother," she gasped, moving back against the wall. Where was Eric? She'd heard several explosions from the safe room, but he hadn't come out.

Her heart had leapt with hope when she'd heard him shout her name, and she'd hurled herself at the wall desperately...but he hadn't emerged. There'd been some booms that had shaken the entire house, but the steel cell he was in had held him captive. Damn David for locking him in there. Seriously. She was going to stab David with Eric's knife if he dared come home.

Eric had shouted at Tristan a moment ago, but now it was quiet. She didn't dare yell for him again, not with Tristan oozing toward her like a well-oiled lothario bent on seduction. "Tristan—"

She felt an invisible caress on her breast, and she sucked in her breath. "Hey!" She batted at her chest. In that split second distraction, he moved, exploding so quickly toward her that she had no time to react.

He leapt across the room, knocked the stake out of her hand, and pinned her up against the wall, in a single, effortless move.

Her heart hammering violently, she went still, afraid to put him over the edge. "Tristan," she urged. "You're my friend. You don't have to be like this."

She thought she saw regret flicker in his eyes. "Oh, but I do, my darling. I do." Then his fingers slid through her hair in a caress so seductive that her legs started to tremble. His mind wove through hers, making her belly tighten with lust.

"Damn you," she whispered. "I don't want this!" She moved slightly, and then slammed her knee into his crotch.

Tristan grunted, but instead of collapsing in pain, he tightened his grip on her hair and yanked her head backward, exposing her neck. "I'm dying without you," he said. "I'm
dying.
"

She stared up at him, her heart tightening at the anguish in his voice. For a split second, she saw the handsome, carefree visage of the man she'd once known, the man who was her friend. His face was steeped in torment, and she felt his pain so viscerally that her muscles clenched in empathy. She realized he spoke the truth, that he
was
dying. Her eyes filled with tears as she set her hand on his face, her fingers prickling from his whiskers. Of course she wanted to save him. She owed him everything. "Not this way, Tristan. You don't want this. I don't want this.
Not this way.
" She'd give him her blood if that would save his life, but not with her pinned up against the wall. Over coffee maybe, trading jokes. "Tristan, I'll help you, but not as your prey."

"Not my prey. My lover," he whispered, his voice gliding silkily across her flesh, and making her thighs clench. "
You do want this.
"

Did she? She sort of felt like she did. But no, those weren't her thoughts. Tristan was in her head, twisting her emotions. "No—" Sudden warmth fluttered through her body, a soul-deep longing, and then he sank his teeth into her neck.

Desire rolled over her, the most intense craving she'd ever felt in her life. A raw, uncontrollable need for sex, intimacy, for the feel of naked flesh beneath her hands. She gasped, her entire body shaking as Tristan drank from her. "No," she gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I don't want this." But she did. She wanted to save him. She wanted him to drink from her. She craved his body, his kiss, his touch. Her entire being screamed for more...but it was Eric's face in her mind. Not Tristan's.
Eric's.

She twisted, confused, both wanting to lose herself in Tristan's spell, and craving Eric at the same time. Their bodies and faces merged in her mind, until they became one, two parts of a whole, twins of the same spirit and soul. What was happening? She shook her head, trying to clear it, but, her need for both brothers, for Eric, for Tristan, for whatever she could have continued to mount, raging in its ruthless intensity.