CHAPTER 13
She knewbiters were strong as well as fast, but being princess-carried by one moving at freeway speed was something else entirely. Layla huddled against the shreds of a vampire’s sweater, her eyes squeezed firmly shut, and tried like hell not to think about what she’d just done.
You saved Pete. That’s worth something.
Was it? The cracking, bone-snapping sounds as the biter squeezed, faint traces of steam rising from the back of his right shoulder as if—had he been shot? Pete going cheesy-pale, metal squeak-screaming as Ack’s pistol deformed under the pressure, a spatter of blood hitting the filthy floor…
He’s still alive. I saved him.
Was it selfish to wonder who the fuck was going to save her?You oughta look out for yourself once in a while, pumpkin, Meemaw Cathy always said, but Layla didn’t want to be like her mother.
Anything but that. Samantha Cartland’s number one was always her own sweet self, and she had unloaded toddler-Layla at high speed during what was supposed to be just a short family visit. Meemaw hadn’t ever complained—her granddaughterwasn’t a burden, naturally—but Layla was always conscious of her born status as baggage.
She’d spent her entire young life trying to be useful, to make up for it.
Vampire hunting seemed like a good way to change all that, though she and Dan couldn’t hope to catch the one who got Suzy up at Paradise Point. Even well-funded hunters with access to painstakingly gathered research operated at significant disadvantage, and law enforcement liked sweeping weird things under the rug. Their group’s small successes had been incredibly hard-won, though garnering them the attention of O’Shaughnassey’s crew. Scheduling the meetup between groups had been a nightmare of cautious security measures, but worth it in order to get some expert opinion on Suze’s case.
Probably a baby biter, Shawn had said, shuffling through the familiar, dog-eared crime scene photos.Since the kill’s too messy, but normally solo prey isn’t savaged like this… Jaysus, the claws went right through the cloth top, look at that.
And the funny look on Dan’s face during that entire discussion. What had he been thinking? Had he already wanted to quit, but couldn’t because… why?
Four years is a long time. But still, we were just getting started.They’d even had two whole bounties, which was more than a lot of so-called professional groups bragging on the forums ever managed.
Not that it mattered. Even well-armed, professional crews could be erased by a single old, powerful biter in a matter of moments. Layla herself was only helpful as research, logistics, surveillance.
Or bait. And now she was beginning to have dark suspicions about the two young monsters their crew had bagged, both going straight for her while making those horrible sounds.
The wind-roar cut off, the sense of motion slowed. Weird—had she fallen asleep, carted around by Vampire Max? That was funny too, in a dreamy, disconnected way. Of course, she’d promised to cooperate, let him do what he wanted.
She could just check out, really. Unhook herself from her body, let the world roll right over her.Que sera, sera, like Meemaw’s favourite song. Whatever would happen could continue without her; the entire goddamn world could simply arrange itself as it pleased.
“Leila.” He was saying her name, still with that funny accent. “Open your eyes, little leman.”
What is with this guy and the citrus?It didn’t matter, nothing did. She didn’t have to do a goddamn thing; she’d promised to cooperate and by golly she was a limp noodle, offering no resistance at all. If he didn’t like her style, he could just…
What would he do?
It didn’t smell like a hotel, though they were definitely inside. Dusty, with the indefinable sense of a previous hurried cleaning, something she was more than familiar with from taking care of every dilapidated hideout Dan’s crew had ever landed in. Even Shawn’s group seemed to take it for granted that she’d pick up after them as well, heedlessly strewing clothes and packaging everywhere.
Shawn and Feargus bullied her boys into racking their own damn weapons, though. She had to admit that had cut her workload by a significant amount.
It was blessedly cool, and was that running water? Which reminded her, she hadn’t needed the bathroom since getting back to base last night, which was weird but could be dehydration. And she was hungry, but that was the norm more often than not these days, with vampire hunting budgets tight ashell. Tight as the bodice of Suze’s wedding dress, needing to be sewn on.
I should have told her the truth. But Suzy sometimes seemed to suspect Layla’s lingering high school crush, and it was better to just be quiet.
Safer. If she just watched Dan from a distance, letting the feeling be a soft secret sting in her chest, there was no risk of fucking everything up.
Except somehow, despite all her strenuous efforts, she had.
The vampire held her easily, shifting Layla around like a giant doll. Her boots were tugged off one at a time, socks loosened and peeled free. The relief of getting footwear off after a long day was so intense, she didn’t even mind what her toes must look like. A slight soft sound, like scissors through heavy cloth. Sweat—and probably blood, or other substances—had glued the pretty red Kisbain dress to her skin; she tried not to flinch as strips were peeled away.
Oh, God. What is he doing now?
The vampire hissed a long soft indrawn breath, as if pained. It was ridiculous—what could hurt a superpowered monster? But there was the whole fight in the parking garage; getting thrown through a few cars might put a dent in anyone’s day. Then he’d hunted her down and stopped Pete from shooting her.
Not Pete’s fault, really. Best practice meant just that; if a fellow hunter got bit, they were unreliable. You just couldn’t take the chance they’d turn into a vampire’s faithful employee. Contamination byanythingdemimonde was an automatic ticket out; that was why O’Shaughnassey’s crew had those fancy chainmail gorgets.
Except the collars hadn’t done any good. The grainy footage of their last job was absolutely pitiless in that respect.
