Keri Arthur - Deadly Desire

Although I'd probably done that the moment I'd destroyed the pentagram and table.

I raised my arms and smashed theirs away, then dropped to the ground and crawled, as fast as I could, between their legs and away.

Kye, I think we need to get the hell away from this cavern and regroup.

He didn't answer immediately, punching several zombies away from him before saying, I'm thinking that's a fucking good idea .

I flipped upright and spun, lashing out with a leg and knocking one charging zombie into another. At least in the hallway they cant come at us from all angles .

And that would give us an advantage. Right now, there were just too many avenues for the things to keep jumping us. And though we'd reduced their numbers, the ones that remained were the least rotten, and the strongest. And they just wouldn't stop .

I grabbed another arm and twisted it backward, hearing bone crack as I kicked out at the creature's kneecap. These things might be dead, but somewhere deep in their brainless skulls, a sense of self-preservation still survived, because it jumped backward, out of the way.

Make the charge , Kye said, I'm right with you .

Then I'm going . I put my head down and ran. Right into a zombie, knocking him down hard, then leaping over him as I raced for the door. Kye appeared beside me, as covered in slime as I was, and reeking to high heaven. We neared the ramp, our steps lost in the pounding of the zombies coming after us.

Up the top of the ramp, the shadows moved, and the scent of humanity-of a woman-washed over me. Jessica, not Hanna. Then I felt the burn of silver and heard the soft click of a safety being disengaged.

I slid to a stop. Kye did the same, barely missing running into my back. The zombies behind us crowded close, providing a wall of flesh through which there'd be no easy escape. Not that there was anywhere to go behind them. Our only way out was the tunnel. If we could get past Jessica and whatever form of backup she'd bought with her.

She rolled out of the shadows, the gun held unwaveringly in her hands. There was a zombie at her back holding a second weapon.

"I underestimated you," she said softly, her voice cool but still holding that edge I'd noticed earlier.

"I get that a lot," I said, even as I added telepathically to Kye, the weapons are loaded with silver . "Tell me, Jessica, why are you killing the teenagers? It makes no sense, given Hanna has already paid them handsomely for their silence."

"No monetary payment ever guarantees silence one hundred percent. If any of them had opened their damn mouths about how they got the money, Hanna's game was up."

"But why would you even care? Why would you go to such lengths to protect a woman who's not exactly chummy with sanity?"

"Sane or not, she cared for me when no one else would, and for that I owe her loyalty." She gave me a twisted half-smile that was part sadness, part acceptance. "Which means I get to clean up her mistakes and keep her safe."

Then she pulled the trigger. I threw myself sideways, even as Kye hit me, making me lose my balance. He stumbled then went down, hard. There was blood on his face, blood in his hair, blood on the ramp, and something inside me went numb.

For too many seconds, I couldn't react, couldn't think. I just stared at his unmoving form and thought no, no, no .

Then movement caught my eye. The gun, aimed my way.

I twisted around and lunged for the weapon that had fallen from Kye's hand. I grabbed it and fired, all in one swift motion. Saw the woman jerk, then go limp, as the wound in her forehead began to leak blood and brain matter. I fired a second shot, shattering the wrist of the zombie holding the gun, tearing it clean from his arm.

I closed my eyes for a moment, releasing a deep, shaking breath. But the danger wasn't over yet, I realized as fingers began to dig into my flesh. I twisted around, wrenching myself free, then jumped upright and lunged forward at the rest, hitting them front on and sending them flying.

Then I turned and ran back to Kye, dropping to my knees beside him and feeling for his pulse. It was there, fast but strong, and some of the tension that had been twisting my insides relaxed a little. But only a little. The bullet had hit at an angle, smashing through his right shoulder before making a trench across the side of his head, and both wounds were bleeding profusely. If he didn't wake up, didn't change shape and stop the bleeding soon, he would die.

I pinched his earlobe as hard as I could, then said, "Kye, get up."

A zombie lunged at me, I twisted around, sweeping with my leg, knocking him off his, then pinched Kye's ear harder. "Damn it, wolf, wake up. You have to shift shape."

He didn't respond, and the fear that had been partially mollified when I realized he was still alive began to rise again. I didn't care for this man, didn't want to get involved with him, but something deep within simply didn't want to see him die, either. But then, my wolf had a bad habit of latching onto-or rather, lusting after-totally unsuitable men.

I kicked away more attacking zombies, then jumped to my feet and grabbed Kye's armpits. Jessica had obviously given her creatures final orders before I'd killed her, and I couldn't concentrate on waking Kye with the zombies continuing to attack from all angles. I needed to at least restrict their options. So I hauled him upright and began to walk backward up the ramp.

And suddenly I realized that there was someone else in the room. Someone who was alive and who breathed, and whose scent was all too familiar.

Hanna.

I shifted my grip on Kye and twisted around, the gun in one hand and my finger on the trigger. But for the second time that night, I simply wasn't fast enough.

The bullet hit with the force of a hammer, tearing into my shoulder and smashing me sideways, away from Kye and into a wall.

Pain flared, red hot and burning, and I knew then that the bullet was silver.

Then that thought died and there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Waking was a slow and painful process. My head throbbed so badly it made me want to throw up, but it was almost matched by the burning ache in my right shoulder. An ache that pulsed down my arm as it went numb.

Fear hit me-a fear so deep that for several seconds I struggled to breathe.

I knew that burning. Knew it all too well.

I'd been shot with silver and the bullet was still lodged in my flesh.

I forced reluctant eyelids open, needing to know where I was and what had happened while I was out of it. A white ceiling loomed high above me, meaning they'd moved me from the cavern. But that ceiling didn't actually look like one of the club ceilings, either. The cornices were too ornate, the ceiling itself too high.

Plus, the air here smelled different. It was fresher, with undertones of baking and roses rather than the club's seedier aroma of alcohol and lust.

Which didn't mean there wasn't magic here. There was, but it wasn't as strong. It was more a wisp of darkness that occasionally stained the fresher scents rather than something that overwhelmed and completely fouled.

I shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache in my hip, and realized I was laying on something cold and hard. I shifted my left fingers and touched the surface.

Metal. And unlike the table in the cavern, this one didn't smell like blood-although that aroma was in the air, if only faintly. I drew in a deeper breath, sifting through the smells in the air, finding strong hints of antiseptic swirling around the tang of old blood. This table and this room had been washed down many, many times.

As full awareness began to return, I also realized that the burning numbness in my right arm was matched-to a lesser degree-by similar sensations at both ankles and my left wrist.