Rush of Darkness Page 3

  That quickly, his guilt vanished. “In case you didn’t notice,” he growled, “I didn’t ask.”

  She muttered something under her breath that he couldn’t quite make out, but it was clear she didn’t trust him.

  “And to be honest,” he added, “I’m surprised you didn’t see me coming.”

  With a delicate snort, she said, “My powers are hardly working right, remember?”

  Yeah, he did. But he also couldn’t help recalling that when she started to…well, care about someone, the less she could see them. In fact, she could barely read her loved ones at all, which is why she wouldn’t have known that he’d visited her parents unless she’d talked to them directly.

  But before his brain could run away with that intriguing thought, she said, “You still haven’t told me why the others gave you this ridiculous job.”

  Seth shook his head. “That’s not how it happened.”

  “No?”

  “They didn’t send me after you. I came on my own.”

  That seemed to throw her a little, though he could tell she was trying to keep it from showing. “Well, now you can just turn around and go back. I have things I need to do, and they don’t involve you.”

  “It’s strange you would say that,” he muttered, his muscles bunching with a renewed wave of tension.

  “Why?”

  “Because I thought we had an understanding.”

  “What kind of understanding?” she asked, her voice laden with suspicion.

  He ground out his response, wishing they weren’t having this argument in the loud nightclub, surrounded by drunken idiots. “The kind where you didn’t do anything stupid, putting yourself in danger again, after I helped save your ass.”

  The thought of exactly what he and the others had saved her from had Seth’s gut coiling, a trickle of sweat snaking down his spine beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. The woman had been through hell during her captivity at Westmore’s compound, both physically and mentally. She’d been raped by groups of those vile monsters, beaten repeatedly and shown the slaughtered pieces of her younger sister’s body. And yet, she’d somehow survived, refusing to let them break her completely.

  She’d looked away from him when he’d finished laying into her, her expression a beguiling cross between mutinous and contrite. Time stretched out, marked only by the staccato rhythm of their breaths and the muffled electronic pulse of the music, and then she suddenly gave herself a little shake. “I’ve said thank you,” she told him, locking her gaze with his again. “Several times, in fact. But what you did for me after the escape does not mean that you have any say in what I do now.”

  Like hell it didn’t. “Whatever you’re getting into, I’m not letting you do this alone, Raine.”

  Anger burned in the depths of her eyes. “At the risk of repeating myself, you don’t have any choice, McConnell.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that,” he drawled with a heavy dose of pure, masculine arrogance, knowing damn well his words and tone were going to piss her off even more. And for some dumbass reason, that temper of hers was really setting him off, to the point that he couldn’t help wondering what she’d do if he tried to kiss her.

  When his gaze dipped to her mouth, she drew a swift breath, her voice almost guttural as she warned, “Try it, soldier boy, and I’ll rip your bloody throat out.”

  Excitement vibrated along his nerve endings, bringing a fresh surge of heat beneath his skin. He’d thought she was fascinating before, but now… Christ, his head was spinning from trying to figure her out. She was so much harder than she’d been the last time he’d seen her. Angrier. Even more complex. But still as beautiful as ever. He couldn’t stop staring at the plush shape of her lower lip, loving the crease that ran down its center. He was entranced by the color, the curves, the texture….

  Gotta taste her, he thought, his breathing heavy, head dangerously thick with lust that he fucking knew was going to land him in a shitload of trouble. But he couldn’t wait, months’ worth of hunger suddenly bearing down on him, impossible to resist. His nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath of her scent, and before he could think better of it, Seth crowded in on her, flattening one hand against the wall at her back, caging her in, her other side blocked by the broad back of a male who was chatting up some redhead beside them. As he started to lower his head, the music faded away, the annoying crowd forgotten, his pulse roaring as he drew close. Closer…

  Then she lifted her knee and nailed him right in the nuts.

  Pain doubled him over, his stomach twisting as a violent wave of nausea swept through him, and he went to his knees, hard, using everything he had to keep from blacking out. She’d used considerable more force than he would have thought a woman her size was capable of, but then, the Deschanel were known for being exceptionally strong.

  When his vision finally cleared, Seth sucked in a rough gulp of air and lifted his head, ready to give her absolute hell…

  But the maddening little crossbreed was already gone.

  CHAPTER THREE

  TWO MORE SECONDS. Just two…and his mouth would have been on mine. Those firm lips. Warm, clever tongue…

  As the disturbing words whispered through Raine’s mind, she made her way down a deserted, moonlit street, lost in a daze, the rain pelting against her cold face, already blocks away from the club. She couldn’t believe that Seth McConnell had come after her. Could believe even less that he cared enough to worry about what happened to her. After all, she’d seen the gruesome killings he’d made against her kind in the name of the Collective Army.

  But when he’d been staring at her in the nightclub, none of that had mattered. His eyes had burned with that same hot, soft glow that she remembered from the days after he’d helped rescue her from Westmore back in early February, and she’d practically melted.

  The compound had been located in the middle of the Deschanel Wasteland, a cold, desolate realm where exiled vampires were sent for punishment, as well as one of the deadliest places on earth. The journey had been hard, and yet, McConnell had cared for her the entire way, watching her with that same burning look whenever he’d cut open his arm and collected a cup of his blood for her to drink. And even though it wasn’t anywhere near as sweet as it would have been from his vein—which he’d made clear was not an option—his taste had still been enough to…concern her. It’d been too good. Too…right, somehow. Almost as if his flavor was the perfect match for her most primal hungers.

  Jarred by her unsettling thoughts, she stopped to prop her shoulder against a darkened storefront so that she could close her eyes for a moment. She felt raw inside, and it was obvious his presence had put a chink in her carefully constructed armor. If she wasn’t careful, he could take her apart, piece by piece, and she’d find herself in that chilling suck of pain again. Consumed by guilt and regret. Living in agony with nothing but that stark, tearing cold filling her up inside.

  Only her anger could make her burn.

  Anger…or McConnell.

  Damn it, she would not think about it…about him. She couldn’t. Not if she wanted to keep what little sanity she still had left. She’d been doing her best to put him out of her mind for weeks now, so God only knew she should be getting good at it. In fact, she’d been trying so hard not to think about him, she hadn’t even realized he was in the club until he’d gotten right on her. Of course, he had a lot of natural mental guards for a human and they were difficult for her to get through. It’d been that way ever since Kellan Scott, the Lycan she’d been imprisoned with at Westmore’s compound, had explained to the soldier exactly how her powers worked. Powers that were weakening every day…and Raine had to face the fact that she might never be at full strength again. The deep trances she’d gone into whenever the Casus had raped her had left severe wounds within her mind—ones she knew damn well might never be fully healed.

  As it was, she was left in a strange state of limbo, able to lust…and yet, burdened by shame for taking what sh
e knew the Deschanel would have seen as the coward’s way out.

  Coward or not, she was already able to feel desire. Hell, who was she trying to fool? She might be wary of having a man’s weight crushing her down, unsure of exactly how she would react—but there was no doubt that she wanted Seth McConnell with a hunger none of her past attractions had ever come anywhere close to matching. She’d been fighting hard not to admit it, but she wanted him in ways that didn’t make sense. In ways she couldn’t even explain.

  Despite how she felt about his past, about the man that he’d been and the things that he’d done, for some inexplicable reason, McConnell had been her only point of light in the days following her rescue. A fact that her battered, unstable emotions hadn’t been able to handle, and so she’d cut that connection, doing her best to avoid him once they’d reached the safety of Harrow House. And by doing so, she’d left herself with no other choice but to sink deeper into the darkness that had taken root in her soul, until she no longer knew herself. Until only her hatred and her quest for revenge had been the things that could save her.

  But just because she couldn’t allow herself to get close to him, didn’t mean that he didn’t fascinate her. The guy might have been a trained killer, but he’d always been gentle with her. He was also dangerously easy on the eyes, with a slow, sexy smile and a rumbling, husky kind of laugh that could have melted metal. And no matter how badly she might have wanted to, she couldn’t deny that his strength, as well as his intellect, impressed her. He had no supernatural powers, and yet, she’d seen him spar with the shifters back at Harrow House, knocking them on their asses more than once. And he’d been able to find her. She didn’t believe in fate. No, she laid the credit at McConnell’s feet, though she would never admit it to his face. But he had incredible instincts for a human, and he’d honed them to a fine point during all his years as a hunter. Somehow, he’d tracked her down in a city of millions, and she knew she was going to have to be careful if she was going to keep away from him.

  Speaking of careful…

  As she cast a wary eye over her silent surroundings, it occurred to her that she was crazy to have let her guard down. And the chilling words that were suddenly rasped over her shoulder were testament to that fact.

  “Well, if it isn’t the little psychic bitch. Westmore’s gonna kiss my ass when I drag you back to him.”

  Shit.

  As she turned around, Raine came face-to-face with Andre Carlson, the Casus she’d followed into the club, his ice-blue eyes burning with malice. He watched her with a mocking expression, no doubt thinking she was the dumbest female on the planet. After all, taking him by surprise was one thing—while going head-to-head with the bastard was something else entirely.

  “But first,” he drawled, “I think we’ll have some fun. You ready to play like it’s old times, sweetheart?”

  Damn it, she’d been so stupid! Mooning over the soldier when she should have been focused on where she was…and who was with her. It was inexcusable. She knew better! After all, wasn’t being careless what had landed her in Westmore’s compound in the first place?

  “I asked you a question, whore.”

  She’d slipped the Marker inside her sweater as she’d left the club, wanting to feel it pressed against her skin, as if the metal could somehow bring her a measure of comfort. It burned against her chest, thrumming with power, as though it was eager to take the monster down. But she had to be careful. The Dark Markers were not only the keys that opened the spellbound, heavily fortified gate to Meridian, they also formed a map that would lead to the Casus’s hidden prison. If the Watchmen were going to succeed in their plan to enter Meridian and destroy the Casus once and for all, then they would need each cross.

  “Are you deaf?” he growled. “I’m talking to you.”

  “Sorry. I spaced out there for a second,” she murmured, surprised by the calmness of her tone. “I was just imagining Westmore’s lips on your ass. Bet you love it when he does that, huh?”

  He hit her so hard that her head cracked to the side, though her reaction was more from shock than the force of the blow. Thanks to the cross’s protection, his fist slid right over her skin, but the idiot was so angry, he didn’t even notice. “Such a filthy little mouth,” he snarled, grasping her chin. “You’ve gotten bitchy since your escape.”

  She smiled so wide her teeth were bared…as well as the fangs that had already descended. “Then why don’t you try to teach me a lesson?”

  “We will.”

  We? What the…

  Before she could react, strong hands grabbed her upper arms, and Raine realized her error in judgment was even worse than she’d thought. Facing off against one Casus was dangerous enough, but two would be all but impossible. Not that she was afraid of dying. But damn it, she still had three more monsters she intended to hunt down and drop, before finally going after Westmore.

  “Let’s get this started,” the newcomer purred in her ear, and as he pulled her against the front of his body, bile rose in her throat at the feel of his erection digging into her lower back.

  Do something! Fight back!

  Right. Time to stop standing there, waiting for a miracle to happen. If she was going to get out of this, she’d have to do it herself. Using the second Casus’s hold on her arms as leverage, she swung her right leg into the air, aiming a powerful kick into the side of Carlson’s jaw, the satisfying crack of breaking bone fueling her aggression. The bastard crumpled to the ground, a low groan spilling from his lips as he spat out three teeth.

  “Now that just wasn’t nice,” the second one snickered. He turned, pinning her against the nearest wall. “Looks like you need to be taught some manners.”

  “And here I was thinking that I’d rather just kill you instead.” Gritting her teeth, Raine pushed onto the tip of her toes and slammed her head back, a thick crunch filling the night as the back of her head connected with his nose. He’d underestimated her, thinking she wouldn’t fight back, just like the first one she’d killed two days ago in Spain. But she was no longer the victim. She was the one who wanted blood, damn it—and she was going to take it.

  As the Casus released her right arm to grab his mangled nose, she dipped and twisted, the front of her sweater catching on something and tearing as she wrenched herself out of his hold. With a feral growl, he swung his fist, the blow catching her on the cheekbone, but like Carlson’s first punch, his fist simply skidded across her face, leaving her unharmed.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he demanded in confusion, just as she countered with her own jab, her fist connecting with his mouth and splitting his lip.

  “Are you really that stupid?” Carlson muttered, finally moving back to his feet. His jaw was swelling, slurring his words, but Raine could still understand him. “She’s wearing one of the Markers, you blind idiot.”

  The Casus’s ice-blue gaze dipped to the metallic cross now visible through her torn sweater, his lip curling with disgust. “How the hell did she get that?”

  “I stole it,” Raine offered with a sharp smile, releasing her talons. She could have turned and ran, and would have likely been able to get away. But she’d come to Paris with a plan and she wasn’t leaving until she’d seen it through.

  “What do we do?” he asked his comrade.

  “We take her. Just because we can’t hurt her doesn’t mean we can’t capture her.”

  Oh, hell, no.

  She’d been there, done that, and there was no way she was going back again.

  They came at her hard and fast, and Raine fought wildly. But it wasn’t enough, and she suddenly realized they were just biding their time, waiting for her to wear herself down.

  Knowing she had to go on the offensive, she reached for the cross hanging around her neck and pulled it over her head. Gripping the warm metal in the palm of her right hand, she tightened her fingers around the ancient weapon and felt the familiar, excruciating burn of heat as it began to transform her arm into an instrument of
death. One that was called an Arm of Fire, because of the way molten flames would engulf her entire limb, from fingers to shoulder, when she found her target. Once her arm was glowing with the power of the cross, she had to punch her way through the back of the monster’s neck, at the base of his skull, and then her arm would erupt into flames, those flames spreading through the creature’s body, torching him from the inside out. It was the only way to truly destroy a Casus, sending its soul on a oneway trip to hell.

  In Spain, she had made sure her prey was too weak to fight back before using the Marker, but this time was going to have to be different.

  “Who’s ready to play with me now?” she rasped, while they snarled at her glowing arm. They were clearly frightened, knowing she now had the power to kill them. They weren’t, however, frightened enough to run.

  I’m just going to have to change that.

  Together, they rushed her, demonic growls tearing up from their throats, the moonlight glinting against the jagged fangs now filling their mouths. Carlson delivered a powerful roundhouse that caught her on the shoulder, and while the cross protected her from the bruising force of the blow, it was still enough to knock her down. Her knees hit hard against the gritty asphalt, but she kept rolling, coming up in a low crouch. The second Casus came at her and she hissed, baring her fangs as she sprang forward, slicing her talons across his throat. Blood sprayed, but it wasn’t enough to take him down, the host’s body able to endure more than a human could while it was possessed by one of the shades. As she tried to get behind him, where she could drive her burning hand into his neck, he grabbed hold of her left arm, slamming her into the ground. Raine hit the asphalt so hard that her breath left her lungs, but she immediately started to twist and kick when she felt Carlson wrap his long fingers around one of her ankles.

  “Now get her off the ground!” he barked at his partner. Together they hoisted her into the air, Carlson holding her ankles, while the other held her by one arm.

  Ohmygod, she thought. I’ve failed!