Elle Jasper: Darklove

The street seems to have grown longer, and I don’t know what to do except keep running toward the end of it, away from the kirk. There are more shrouded creatures writhing up from the sidewalk cracks—too many for the number of cartridges I have left. I keep running, only firing at the ones who get too close. My arm feels like it’s being torn off, and I glance back to make sure both Eli and Vic are still there. A cat creature has landed on Eli’s back and is gnawing on his ribs. I stop, drop to one knee, and fire the scatha, blowing it off Eli. Quickly, I load the remaining cartridges. I have three more left.

Shit .

Frustration clouds my judgment. What the hell do I do? I run toward the end of the street, but it stretches out long before me, like it’s never going to end, and distorted shadows grab at me, folding the darkness in on me. It’s now pitch-black, and I can only see the glowing eyes of the creatures hiding, preying, stalking us. I keep running, Eli’s and Vic’s bodies bounding limply behind me. They are heavy as shit, too. Like a ton of bricks. I fire another shot at something that flies at me from the shadows. Sparks flutter. I haul ass. One more cartridge left.

Then darkness settles at the end of the street. A pitch cloud, clustering together. First one pine tree, then another emerges. The woods! The goddamn woods! I draw every ounce of speed and strength I have and make my way there. One more creature leaps out at me, and I fire just before it knocks into me. I’m out of ammo. Almost there . . .

The moment my feet hit the spongy forest floor, that sonic boom wave flashes through the pines and knocks me backward. The rope entwining my wrist to Eli’s and Vic’s breaks, we all separate, and I fly hard through the air until a tree trunk stops my body. My shoulder pops, and I fall to the ground. Shaking my head, I try to stand, fall back down, stand again. Everything looks blurry, and my knees feel like rubber, and the pain in my shoulder screams as I lift my free hand to my eyes and scrub them. My other hand still grips tightly the scatha. I shake my head again.

Something’s wrong.

My frantic eyes search the forest floor.

Eli and Vic are gone.

A cold, sick wave of nausea sweeps over me, and I run, fall, get up, and run some more. I search everywhere, and I’m going in a big circle. Finally, I’m at the opening to St. Bueno’s.

Eli and Vic are nowhere in sight. I know they came with me through the boom. Where the hell did they go?

I sink to the ground. I can’t catch my breath, almost like I’m hyperventilating. I try to inhale deeply, and I can’t. After several tries, I realize it’s because I’m sobbing hysterically.

Finally, I lean back on my heels, draw a long, deep breath, and my lungs allow it.

“Eli!” I call out.

The sound resonates off the trees. Bounces off St. Bueno’s caved walls. Smacks right back into me.

It doesn’t even sound like my voice.

All is quiet. Not even a single rustling leaf cracks the silence.

When no answer follows, I slump against the tree trunk, drop the scatha, and close my eyes.

My body jerks. My eyes fly open. Everything’s dark. The air is sickening, still.

Eli. Vic. With a burst of energy I leap to my feet. Instinct makes me grab my left arm. Pain singes the shoulder joint. Where the hell is my scatha? I scan the ground. It’s nowhere.

Doesn’t matter. I have to go back in. . . .

My feet move first, and after two steps I’m snatched to a halt. Pain shoots from my shoulder and I hiss.

“No, you don’t,” a raspy voice says to me. A vise squeezes my good arm.

Dazed, I turn to my captor. Dreads. Crooked smile.

My partner. “Let me go, Noah,” I say evenly. My eyes are locked with his.

“Don’t do it, girl,” he says, and pulls me close. “This time, that mind shit won’t work.” From his fingers dangles the leather cord he wears around his neck, with a sachet of herbs concocted by my surrogate root doctor grandfather. It keeps his intoxicating sensual vampire scent, irrefutable by any and all species, at bay. He throws it over his head, away from the both of us. It lands at least twenty feet away. My eyes widen.

I feel my pupils dilate, and my body relaxes. I fixate on Noah’s lips. Full. Curved at the corners. Sexy as hell. Inviting. I gotta taste them. . . .

My body’s hot now, flashes of sensory fire scattering all over my flesh in patches. Stomach. Neck. Thighs. Crotch. Nothing makes sense to me except getting as physically close to Noah Miles as possible. I have to have him. Both of my hands reach for Noah’s head, he dips back, and all I touch are a few dreads. That’ll do. Wrapping my fingers tightly around them, I yank his head toward my mouth. At the same time, I leap onto him, curling my legs around his waist. One of his large hands separates us, and it’s pressing against my chest, pushing me away. My eyes dilate wider. I lean toward him, mouth open, the pain in my left shoulder forgotten. . . .

“Whoa, my little horny toad, take it easy,” Noah commands, and pushes me off his body. He chuckles, and the sound excites me. “I can’t wait to tell you about this later,” he says. He scoops me up in his arms. Runs. Picks something up. “Damn, Poe,” he mutters.

I’m barely hearing him, so deafening is my heartbeat roaring within me. Pounding in my groin. Sex. That’s all I want from Noah Miles. Sex. Now . With my good hand I grab a fistful of dreads and yank his head toward me. His mouth, so close, my teeth nip at his jaw. I want his tongue. . . .

A flash of light goes off in my face, but I don’t care. It could be a pair of headlights on a truck barreling at me full speed for all I care. As long as I get these goddamn clothes off. . . .

“Riley, damn it,” Noah mutters, and his hand stills mine as I find his crotch.

I feel as though I’m flying through the air, Noah carrying me, and I have not a care in the world except crawling as close to him as I physically can. The wind pushes at my face, and I bury it against his neck. I kiss him there, taking small nips, licks, and I find his earlobe with the silver stud he wears. I pull it into my mouth and groan.

“Jesus H. Christ Almighty, girl,” Noah groans, and pulls his head away. “Riley, give me a break, darlin’.”

We’re moving so fast I can’t make my legs creep up his body any higher. I’m nearly out of my mind with lust, the scent of Noah an addicting drug. He keeps pushing me away, and it’s pissing me the fuck off. “Please,” I beg.

The next instant happens so fast my head spins. I’m flung onto a leather seat, my right wrist is tied to the leather door pull, and I’m crammed inside, door shut. My brain is fuzzy. I feel light-headed. Dizzy. The pain in my left shoulder begins to throb.

The driver’s-side door opens, closes. I shake my head and look up. Noah’s staring at me, his eyebrows lifted in amusement. One corner of his mouth is tilted upward. Yet a pained look lingers in his eyes.