Zoey Rogue (17 page)

Ignoring them, she wound through them at a pace that allowed her to commandeer their senses. When she’d reached the one closest to the door, she faced them and smiled. Those nearest her started forward. Zoey danced out of their reach and paced to the door and into the street. Certain to stay a few steps ahead of the few she’d drawn out of the club, she went to the alley where she’d kill the Cambion the night before, recalling how good the lighting was.

Looking up at the lights, she didn’t realize the other end of the alley was sealed off until she’d walked halfway down it. Surprise then irritation filled her. The same city that waited three months to fill a pothole had built a wall in her alley overnight?

Rather than backtrack, she turned to face those that followed, waving for them to approach as she took slow steps back. When they were all in the alley, she stopped. She’d drawn six, which meant neither she nor Vikki would win the bet this night.

“Who’s first?’ she asked.

“Definitely me,” the nearest said, closing the distance.

She let him grab her and pull her against him. His kiss ratcheted up the sex energy in her blood as he tried to use his to seduce her. She siphoned off his magic, preparing to use it against him. Zoey responded hard, her need real, while her right hand went for the dagger strapped to her thigh. Another Cambion moved behind her, nipping her neck while his hands traveled over her body. She groaned, enjoying the sensations and grateful not to be drunk. For the second night, she felt what was happening – and it was a damn good distraction to the mess in her mind.

With some reluctance, she positioned herself for a two-strike kill. She slid her hand up to the face of the guy kissing her. A simple flick of her wrist, and his throat was slit by the thin blade. He dropped, clutching at the wound. Zoey slammed her elbow into the face of the one behind her then slashed. The first caught the side of his face. The second slid across his neck.

“Who’s next?” High off their sex energy, she whipped out her second knife and faced the four remaining. By the looks on their faces, they hadn’t yet figured out what happened.

She clicked her heels together to engage the blades in her shoes, balanced on the balls of her feet then let loose a side kick that smashed the four-inch-titanium-reinforced blade of her high heels into the chest of the next nearest. The spandex dress did as Chrissy claimed it would, easily adjusting with her movements.

Absently, she couldn’t help thinking she wanted to call Chrissy after all when this was over.
Chrissy was an extraordinary human; Zoey wanted to know what else she had up her sleeve.

One of the Cambions snatched her, and she spun, smashing her other heel into the leg of a fourth. Knives flashing, she took down another two before they’d managed to form a cohesive response to her.

Facing the remaining two, she beckoned them forward. They hesitated, and then turned to leave. Placing one knife between her teeth, Zoey pulled throwing knives from her bra and flung them one at a time. It was easier to aim when she wasn’t drunk. Her marks both fell flat on their faces.

Six down. And it was easy. She began to think the Professor was onto something when he told her to fight sober. She strode forward and plucked her throwing knives free, wiped the blood off, then replaced all her weapons.

She froze, sensing the Cambion behind her.

“Impressive.”

Zoey turned to look at him. He was older than the average Cambion, in his late twenties or early thirties, with one blue eye and one brown eye. Cautious and lean, he looked like more of a challenge than the normal Cambion, too.

“You’re more than we expected,” he said. “You can take down six without breaking a sweat. What’s your max?”

“Max? No idea,” she said. “But you’re welcome to be next.”

She saw a few more ease out of the doorway in the alley. Zoey faced them. The soft footfall from the mouth of the alley drew her attention. She turned her head, engaging her senses. Nine more, maybe ten, she guessed before returning her focus forward.

The five in front of her turned to ten. Then fifteen. Then more than she cared to count.

“Scared yet?” the man who addressed her smiled.

“Never.”

“Even knowing what we’ll do to you?”

“I’ll slit my own throat first,” she replied with a shrug. “You want a kiss before you die? That offer goes to all of you!” She turned, projecting the sex energy. “Free kiss. No returns or refunds.”

The younger ones fell for it. She saw the two compelled towards her from the mouth of the alley and waited. They were as enamored as the girls they killed. She let the first kiss her before letting her blades fly. Two more approached. All of them were trying to use their sex energy on her, unaware that it fed her ability to fight them. She reveled in it.

“Ten,” she counted. “Anyone have a pool going?”

“I said twenty,” the Cambion with the mismatched eyes said.

“What’s the prize?” she asked.

“Whoever wins gets to fuck you first.”

“Nice.” She stretched her neck then placed her hair in a bun to keep it from interfering with her line of sight. “You waiting for more backup? Or can we start?”

“Arrogant little bitch. I’m gonna enjoy what we do to you,” he snarled.

“M’kay. Ready, set, go.”

They couldn’t all attack, not with the confines of the narrow alley. It was a boon for her; she was good at maneuvering in small spaces. Cambions weren’t known for coordinating attacks. Gathering sex energy was a solitary pursuit. In the narrow alley, they’d get in each others’ ways, trip one another, and stack up easily so she could take them one or two or three at a time. She mentally drew the box she wanted to work within, one that included the dumpsters to help guide the traffic.

It was going to be a much better night than last night, she admitted ruefully, especially if she came away beating Vikki.

The Cambions attacked, four from each side. They were cautious in their approach, nervous. She loved that feeling in her enemies, the ones who knew they were going to get their heads cracked open, just not how or when exactly. Zoey let the magic build within her. She flung her head back, intoxicated by the sensations. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to her instincts.

What made her good wasn’t what the Professor said. True, she was ruthless and never hesitated. But she did what only Vikki did: she let her magic and her senses guide her.

Zoey fought. Slashing, stabbing, kicking, punching. She sized and lined them up to minimize the amount she faced at once then played them against each other. Evading rather than blocking, she twisted, ducked, danced through blades, fists and kicks that would knock her out if they landed. Relishing the release, she absorbed the sex energy of the Cambions and turned it against them, using it to scatter their senses and misdirect their strikes. Her aim was flawless, her evasive maneuvers performed with agility the Cambions were unable to match.

She slammed the blade of her heel into the last of her attackers and whirled, sensing a blade. She twisted too late. The thrown weapon buried itself to the hilt into her side. With a gasp, she looked up to see the Cambion with mismatched eyes straightening from his throw.

Zoey wrenched the knife free and tossed it, ignoring the blood that streamed down her thigh and leg to the ground. She assessed the damage she’d done. Fourteen had charged. Ten fell and, the other four were retreating uneasily. Silently, she added how many she killed, so she remembered to tell Vikki.

Both ends of the alley were jammed.

“That black blood is coming from your liver. You’ll bleed out in under ten minutes,” the Cambion said.

“Then you better hurry up and face me,” she replied.

“Fool,” he muttered then waved to the Cambions. “Bring her in.” Assured she was taken care of, the Cambion leader disappeared into the building, just as the next wave of attackers reached her.

Zoey fought hard. For every one she killed, two replaced him. Her agility was all but halted, limiting her ability to outmaneuver them. Her body grew slower to respond fast as she bled out. Zoey struggled to stay focused. She failed to outmaneuver more than one blade. One sliced through her cheek and another through her arm. She sucked up the sex energy and propelled it outward, causing her enemies to falter, even as her own body began to betray her.

She dropped to her knees and forced herself up, lightheaded. She slashed another one down. She heard a sound behind her, like someone landing on their feet, possibly after leaping off one of the buildings. She whirled to slash the head off whatever Cambion was ambushing her. Her wrist was caught, and the familiar fire of an Incubus tore through her. The pain in her side disappeared.

The Cambions around her stepped back in unison.

“Save it for later,” the Incubus from the corner of the club said, his light eyes glowing. “Take a look around.” His low, silky voice caused her to shiver.

She barely heard him through the buzz of her ears. He released her and stepped back cautiously. When she didn’t attack, he lifted his chin in silent command for her to do as he said.

There were a hundred of the half-Incubuses. She twisted all the way around to observe them then glanced down at the black blood coming from her side. For the first time in her life, she began to think she was in over her head. If not for the wound that made her dizzy and nauseous, she might stand a chance.

“About our bet,” the Incubus said.

Irritated, Zoey faced him. He was tall, wide of shoulder and lean, dressed as if he’d been out for the evening when he happened upon her. His magic was restrained but powerful, far stronger than even the Professor’s. She inched away as it washed over her. Reserved and cool, the Incubus appeared unconcerned at being in an alley crammed full of Cambions – and one Hunter.

“Since when does an Incubus interfere in a fight between a Hunter and Cambions?” she challenged.

“I don’t have to,” he said. “I can watch them kill you.”

She wasn’t going to make it if he did. By the tone of his voice, he was more than willing to let her take her chances. If not for the dizzying effects of blood loss and his magic, she might wonder why he made a bet with her in the first place, if he was willing to watch her die. The thought gained no traction.

“I’ll admit this doesn’t look so good.” Zoey wiped the blood off her face with the back of one hand.

A trace of amusement crossed the Incubus’s features. He held her gaze, waiting.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered at last. “Fine. You win. Double or nothing on the next one?”

“The next one,” he repeated, a smile tugging up one side of his mouth. “Reckless to challenge me for a second round, isn’t it?”

“I might not lose the second one,” she said. The strain of fighting while injured was making it hard for her not to weave. He was blurry, too, another sign she took as being bad.

“Very well. Double or nothing.”

The Incubus faced the Cambions and motioned them away. After a brief hesitation, the Cambions disappeared inside the building. Extending her senses, Zoey was unable to determine whether the Incubus remaining in the alley with her was a threat or not. Disoriented from blood loss, she gripped a knife.

The Cambions were gone, leaving her with the Incubus. He was a few feet away, waiting for her.

“C’mon,” she said, unafraid. “Take your shot. You only get one before I take your head off.”

“I have a better deal.” He stepped towards her fearlessly. She found herself enthralled by the rhythm of his Southern drawl.

Zoey stood her ground. She raised the knife. He met her extended arm, unconcerned with the knife she pressed to his neck. At the impact of their skin, she almost dropped to her knees. Lightening tore through her and with it, the uncanny sense they were somehow connected. It stopped her from sliding the knife across his neck as she had the necks of so many others.

The Incubus couldn’t know that and yet wasn’t afraid of her. It was freaking her out.

“Double or nothing: you won’t make it to dawn, if I don’t heal you.”

“I didn’t ask you to help,” she replied.

“Last night was a freebie. I don’t like not getting paid,” he said, once again touching her face like she was already his.

His magic swept through her. She gasped. He backed her into the wall, the weapon at his neck. Gazing up at him, she was unable to shake the images from earlier, those of him using his mouth to take her to orgasm.

“You can bleed out here or you can pay my price,” he added. “Two nights with me.”

Fear trickled through her for the first time at his calm. He meant every word. She could see him standing there, watching her die.

She tried hard to focus on him. Blood loss and his magic clouded everything. He moved closer. She pushed him back, too weak to drive him far. Zoey pulled free her other knife. He snatched her wrist and pinned it against the wall.

His whiskey eyes flashed with something dangerous, something even she knew to fear.

“First things first.” His husky voice was lethal. “Rule number one: Never draw your weapons on me again.” He gripped the wrist holding the dagger to his neck and pinned it above her head. He leaned into her. The contact made tunnel vision form. His proximity was enough to overwhelm her muddled senses. She tugged at his sex energy, trying to stay afloat. As before, he didn’t try to block her.

“Understand?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

He removed the weapons from her hands and tossed them without breaking contact. She was fading fast. She felt her body giving out.

“You can die. Or you can fuck me,” he said. “You won’t make it five minutes, let alone until dawn.”

She swallowed hard, the darkness around the edges of her mind closing in on her.

“Choose.”

“You win. I’ll fuck you,” she murmured.

“Good choice.” He pressed a hand to the wound.

Zoey groaned and leaned into him. Her eyes closed, the darkness swallowing her.

Chapter Nine: Strike One