He came at me fast, and I stumbled back from him, twisting my ankle and falling to the ground. I screamed just as Declan caught his arm, stopping the sharp stake only a few inches from it being a death blow to my heart. Declan’s expression was strained as he fought to pull Lawrence away from me.
“Get out of here now!” Declan snapped over his shoulder at me. “Get to the sunlight!”
If I left, he’d die. I felt the truth of it deep in my gut.
I shook off the fear and panic, knowing I had to do something to help. I scanned my surroundings. There wasn’t much in the warehouse—nothing useful, anyway. Cement floors. Large wooden crates stacked against the wall by the door. The scent of sawdust. That was it. If there was another security camera in here, it was hidden. Not that it would do us any good. Whoever monitored that downstairs was likely dead. We were on our own.
I screamed when the stake arched through the air and stabbed into Declan, piercing his shoulder. Declan let out a sharp snarl of pain.
“First I kill you.” Lawrence pulled out the bloody stake. “Then I kill the woman. I can resist the Nightshade enough to do it. You’re both murderers. You both deserve to die.”
He kicked Declan hard in the leg that had just been broken, and Declan went down hard, crashing to the ground. Blood gushed from the stake wound.
Lawrence turned toward me, moving so fast I didn’t have a chance to take another step back. He grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer. I fought against him, slamming my fist into his face, my knee into his groin.
Bleeding and injured, Declan grabbed hold of Lawrence’s ankle. The vampire kicked him hard in the face and Declan landed on his back. Lawrence crouched down over his prone form, his silver stake aimed for Declan’s heart this time.
I launched myself at him. Normally my blood was my weapon. This time it was my entire body. Not quite as deadly, but effective enough as a diversion. I caught his shoulders and pulled him off Declan. We both hit the ground hard. The stake skittered away on the cement floor.
Lawrence snarled and rose up above me. He clamped his hands around my throat and squeezed hard enough to cut off my breath. I reached out for the stake, felt just the edge of it against my fingertips, but it was out of reach.
It was too late, anyway. I was going to die.
TEN
“Jill! No!” Declan yelled.
Black spots appeared before my eyes, and my hands dropped to my sides.
Lawrence’s face blurred. “There’s no other way this can end. The moment you were injected with the Nightshade, you had a death sentence. Victor couldn’t help you, even if he wanted to. I think you already knew that.”
He was right. I’d been grasping hold of sand with every solution I’d chased after, watching as it slipped through my fingers. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t given up yet and accepted my impending death without wasting energy trying to fight it. The Nightshade was a lot like Lawrence. It wasn’t letting go until I finally stopped breathing. Until my heart stopped beating. Until my poisoned black blood went still in my veins.
Something about being with Declan—it was enough to keep me going. He was a warrior, this kind of thing was his life. He didn’t know any different.
The Declan in my dream—the glimpse I’d had of him if he’d never been touched by death and darkness and violence. He was clean and handsome and unscarred.
But I wouldn’t choose him over the Declan I already knew.
It was my last thought before more darkness spread across my vision.
There was a loud bang. Lawrence jerked backward, and his grip on me loosened. I tried to focus enough to see that there was now a spot of red on his chest. He looked up.
“You’re dead,” Lawrence said, then he jerked again as another bullet hit him squarely in the chest.
Someone came into my peripheral vision—it was Jackson, with a gun held in his right hand. He was covered in blood; he was leaving a trail of it as he walked toward us. And there was something wrong with his left arm, which hung awkwardly at his side, as though no longer fully attached to his body.
“Nearly dead isn’t really dead, asshole.” Jackson pulled the trigger again, but the chamber rang empty. He fell to his knees, breathing hard.
Lawrence rose shakily to his feet. “Regular bullets don’t kill vampires. As a hunter, you should know that by now.”
“No, they don’t.” Declan had managed to drag himself up to his feet and come closer, despite the fact that he looked almost as injured as Jackson did. “But this does.”
His hand was curled around the silver stake that had been lying just out of my reach, and he sliced it into Lawrence’s chest.
Lawrence staggered back, staring down at the weapon. When he looked up, there was a peaceful look on his face, replacing the earlier rage. “Thank you.”
And then he was gone, his fiery ashes scattered in a horrible cloud, some drifting down to land on my face. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Declan kneeled down next to me and grabbed for my hand. “No, Jill—please don’t be dead.”
I would have smiled if the expression was currently possible. It sounded exactly like what I’d said to him in the examination room downstairs.
“Not . . . quite yet,” I managed to say. “But . . . almost.”
“Vampires,” Jackson muttered. “I fucking hate vampires. Jesus, look at my arm. I seriously need an ambulance.”
Declan looked up at him. “How the hell did you escape? He said you were dead. That four vampires were feeding on you.”
“Never underestimate the power of positive thinking.” Jackson grinned shakily.
“He also told me you sold me out to Dr. Reynolds.” His expression darkened. “I’m sure you’ll deny that, right?”
His grin faded. “I can’t deny it. I did it.”
Declan’s grip on my hand tightened. He was more surprised than I was at the confirmation. “I want to kill you.”
“I’m a lowlife scum sucker. You already knew that. Hell, you were one of only a handful who could tolerate me before this. May as well burn all my bridges while I’m at it.”
“At least you admit it.”
Jackson’s expression was bleak. “That I’m a lying, selfish sack of shit? You got it. Now let’s get into the sunlight before the vamps I didn’t kill decide to climb the rest of those stairs.”
It wasn’t a victory parade as we dragged ourselves to the exit, but it would do. The hot sun felt so good on my face I nearly cried with relief. My throat felt sore, I was woozy from the loss of blood, and it would take a good long while for me to get over the last half hour of horror I’d experienced.
But I was still alive. And so was Declan.
And so was Jackson. Total asshole—no argument there—but he’d saved our lives. We would have died if he hadn’t intervened. I was sure that fact hadn’t escaped Declan’s attention. Maybe we didn’t owe him for that, since he’d gotten us into this in the first place, but it helped to even the scales a little bit.
Jackson looked at the warehouse exterior. “I’ll call for containment. Luckily those vamps aren’t going anywhere in the middle of the day. I’ll get some guys to come in and do a sweep, exterminate the rest of them. See if there are any human survivors. Hell, what a fucking mess.” He patted the pocket of his jeans with his uninjured hand. “Can I borrow your phone? I think mine got eaten.”
Declan threw him his cell phone.
“I’ll just go bleed over there and leave you two alone.” Jackson nodded at the parking lot before heading off in that direction.
“How’s your leg?” I asked, placing my hand on Declan’s knee as we sat side by side on the ground just outside the warehouse door. Laura was nowhere to be seen. She’d taken off running and hadn’t stopped. I hoped she’d be okay and not sign up for any more research programs that required one to be locked in a room deep underground.
He raised an eyebrow. “Healing. How’s your throat?”
“I need ice cream. And a couple Ban
d-Aids.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry everything didn’t work out, Jill.”
I laughed a little at that. It hurt. “Not working out is a bit of an understatement.”
He nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry that in our search for a solution to your problem we were nearly torn apart by bloodthirsty vampires.”
“That’s better.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, tracing my thumb over an old scar that ran across his knuckles. “We’re still alive, so I’d say the day was a success.”
“Your blood—”
I cringed at the memory. “If it had killed you, I’m not really sure what I would have done. I think I might have gone ballistic on Dr. Reynolds long before Lawrence got to him.” I searched his face. “Did the Nightshade do anything to you? Anything bad that you might not recover from?”
He shook his head. “I think its effects are fading.”
“Your human side was enough to counteract the poison.”
“Yeah, but—but it did something else to me. Something that really messed me up.”
“What?”
“It threw off the serum I’m on. It messed up my emotions. Made it fucking hard to think straight.”
I knew I’d seen emotion on his face before. This was the confirmation.
I grimaced. “How do you feel right now?”
“I thought it might be permanent, but I can feel it fading as we speak. I don’t think it was a cure for the permanent serum, just a glitch. Besides, the pain I felt when I was injected—not really something I want to experience again if I can help it.”
I studied his face. “So you’re back to normal?”
“Almost.” His brows drew together. “You said something earlier—about our experiment last night.”
This wasn’t a good time to talk about that. “Declan—”
“No, hear me out, Jill. You said that it wasn’t unpleasant for you to let me . . . do that.”
The memory of his mouth on me and his hands skimming my body played in my mind. “Not unpleasant is also a vast understatement for what I felt last night.”
“Yeah, but you also said you didn’t want me to touch you or kiss you again if I wasn’t feeling something in return.”
I swallowed. “That’s right.”
“That means I better do this now while I still have a window of opportunity.”
“What?”
He took my face between his hands and kissed me. This wasn’t a one-sided kiss, one that lacked true feeling on Declan’s part. Even with the salty taste of sweat and the faint copper tang of blood, this was incredible, amazing. Passionate. Real. The feel of his mouth against mine trumped any suit-wearing, perfect Declan in any stupid dream. A shiver of pleasure coursed through me.
When he finally pulled away, my cheeks were flushed and my entire body tingled. I stared at him with surprise, and he rewarded me with a grin.
“Was that better?” he asked.
I smiled back at him. “It was . . . not bad.”
His grin widened. “It was better than not bad.”
“Practice makes perfect.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” The smile faded. “Shit, I can feel it. The effects of my serum . . . it’s coming back fast. I’m sorry, Jill.”
I shook my head. “Don’t be sorry.”
I kissed him again, quickly, and already I felt it wasn’t the same as a moment ago. I’d have to keep that one passionate, incredible kiss firmly in my memory. If it had happened once, it could damn well happen again.
Laura was right about hope. Even after everything that had happened, I was surprised how much I still had in reserve.
Declan stood up and held out his hand to help me up. “Let’s get out of here.”
I felt shaky, my body ached, and my throat was tender. I’d lost a whole lot of blood. I hadn’t found a solution to my Nightshade problem. The scientist who claimed he could help me was dead, an act of vengeance for the sins of his past. There was a nest of vampires beneath our feet that had an extermination to look forward to rather than a juicy, human jugular to snack on.
I’d nearly died, but I was still alive. I had a chance to heal and to figure out what my next step was going to be.
And surprisingly enough, I felt rather hopeful about that.
One amazing kiss from Declan had made me see that nothing was permanent—there were always loopholes . . . or glitches. If his so-called permanent serum could be brushed aside once, it could be again. And if he could be healed, then so could I.
It was far from perfect, but I was okay with that. I already knew perfection was highly overrated.
Turn the page for a preview
of Jill and Declan’s first thrilling adventure
by Michelle Rowen . . .
Nightshade
Now available in paperback from Berkley Sensation!
Life as I knew it ended at half past eleven on a Tuesday morning.
There were currently thirty minutes left.
“What’s your poison?” I asked my friend and co-worker Stacy on my way out of the office on a coffee break.
She looked up at me from a spreadsheet on her computer screen, her eyes practically crossed from crunching numbers all morning. “You’re a serious lifesaver, Jill, you know that?”
“Well aware.” I grinned at her, then shifted my purse to my other shoulder and took the five-dollar-bill she thrust at me.
“I’ll take a latte, extra foam. And one of those white chocolate chunk cookies. My stomach’s growling happily just thinking about it.”
Stacy didn’t normally go for the cookie action. “No diet today?”
“Fuck diets.”
“Can I quote you?”
She laughed. “I’ll have it printed on a T-shirt. Hey, Steve! Jill’s headed to the coffee shop. You want anything?”
I groaned inwardly. I hadn’t wanted to make a big production out of it, since I hated making change. Unlike Stacy, math was not my friend.
By the time I finally made it out of the office I had a yellow sticky note clenched in my fist scrawled with four different coffee orders.
Twenty minutes left.
The line-up at Starbucks was, as usual, ridiculous. I waited. I ordered. I waited some more. I juggled my wallet and my purse along with the bag of pastries and take-out tray of steaming caffeine and finally left the shop, passing an electronics store on my way back. It had a bunch of televisions in the window set to CNN. Some plane crash in Europe was blazing. No survivors. I shivered, despite the heat of the day, and continued walking.
Five minutes left.
I returned to my office building, which not only housed Lambert Capital, the investment and financial analysis company where I currently temped, but also a small pharmaceutical research company, a marketing firm, and a modeling agency.
“Hold the elevator,” I called out as I crossed the lobby. My heels clicked against the shiny black marble floor. Despite my request, the elevator was not held. The doors closed when I was only a couple of steps away from it, a look of bemusement on the sole occupant’s face who hadn’t done me the honor of waiting.
One minute left.
I nudged the up button with my elbow and waited, watching as the number above the doors stopped at the tenth floor, ISB Pharmaceuticals, paused for what felt like an eternity, and then slowly descended back to the lobby. The other elevator seemed eternally stuck at the fifteenth. Another bank of elevators were located around the corner, but I chose to stay where I was and try my best to be patient.
Finally, the doors slid open to reveal a man who wore a white lab coat and a security badge that bore his name: Carl Anderson. His eyes were shifty and there was a noticeable sheen of sweat on his brow. My gaze dropped to his right hand in which he tightly held a syringe—the sharp needle uncapped.
That was a safety hazard I wasn’t getting anywhere near. What the hell was he thinking, carrying something like that around?
Glaring at him, I waited for
him to get out of the elevator so I could get on, but he didn’t budge an inch.
Behind thick glasses, his eyes were steadily widening with what looked like fear, and totally focused on something behind me. Curious about what would earn this dramatic reaction, I turned to see another man enter the lobby. He was tall, had a black patch over his left eye, and wasn’t smiling. Aside from that, I noticed the gun he held. The big gun. The one he now had trained on the man in the elevator.
“Leaving so soon, Anderson? Why am I not surprised?” the man with the gun growled. “No more fucking games. Give it to me right now.”
I gasped as Carl Anderson clamped his arm around my neck. The tray of coffees went flying as I clawed at him, but my struggling did nothing. I couldn’t even scream; he held me so tightly that it cut off my breath.
“Why are you here?” Anderson demanded. “I was supposed to be the one to make contact.”
The gunman’s icy gaze never wavered. “Let go of the woman.”
My eyes watered. I couldn’t breathe. My larynx was being crushed.
“But she’s the only thing standing between me and your direct orders right now, isn’t she?”
“And why would you think I care if you grab some random hostage?” the gunman growled.
Random hostage?
Panic swelled further inside of me. I scanned the lobby to see that this altercation hadn’t gone unnoticed. Several people with shocked looks on their faces had cell phones pressed to their ears. Were they calling 911? Where was security? No guards approached with guns drawn.
Fear coursed through me, closing my throat. My hands, which gripped Anderson’s arm, were shaking.
“We can talk about this,” Anderson said.
“It’s too late for negotiations. There’s more at risk than the life of one civilian.”
“I thought we were supposed to be working together.”
“Sure. Until you decided to sell elsewhere. Hand over the formula.”
“I destroyed the rest.” Anderson’s voice trembled. “One prototype is all that’s left.”
“That was a mistake.” The gunman’s tone was flat.
“It was a mistake creating it in the first place. It’s dangerous.”
“Isn’t that the whole point?”
“You’d defend something that would just as easily kill you, Declan? Even though you can walk in the sunlight, you’re not much better than the other bloodsuckers.” The man who held me prone sounded disgusted. And scared shitless—almost as scared as I felt.
Bloodsuckers? What the hell was he talking about? How did I get in the middle of this? I’d only gone out for coffee—coffee that was now splattered all over the clean lobby floor. It was just a normal workday—a normal Tuesday.
More people had gathered around us, moving backward toward the walls and door, away from this unexpected stand-off, hands held to their mouths in shock at what they were witnessing. I spotted someone from the office to my left rounding the corner where the other elevators were located—it was Stacy with an armful of file folders, her eyes wide as saucers as she saw me. She took a step closer, mouthing my name.
No, please don’t come any closer, I thought frantically. Don’t get hurt.
Where the hell was security?
I shrieked when I felt a painful jab at my throat.
“Don’t do that,” the man with the gun, Declan, snapped.
“You know what will happen if I inject her with this, don’t you?” Anderson’s voice held an edge of something—panic, fear, desperation. I didn’t have to be the helpless hostage in this situation to realize that was a really bad mix.
He had the syringe up against my throat, the sharp tip of the needle stabbing deep into my flesh. I stopped struggling and tried not to move, tried not to breathe. My vision blurred with tears as I waited for the man with the gun to do something to save me. He was my only hope.
“I don’t give a shit about her,” my only hope said evenly. “All I care about is that formula. Now hand it over and maybe you get to live.”
The gunman’s face was oddly emotionless considering this situation. He wore black jeans and a black T-shirt, which bared thick, sinewy biceps. His face didn’t have an ounce of humanity to it. Around the black eye patch, scar tissue branched out like a spider web up over his forehead and down his left cheek, all the way to his neck. He was as scary-looking as he was ugly.
“I knew they’d send you to retrieve this, Declan.” Anderson’s mouth was so close to my ear that I could feel his hot breath. His shaky voice held a mocking edge. “Who better for this job?”
“I’ll give you five seconds to release the woman and hand over that syringe with its contents intact,” Declan said. “Or I’ll kill both of you where you stand. Five . . . four . . .”
“Think about this, will you?” Anderson dug the needle farther into my flesh, prompting another wheeze of a shriek from me. “You need to open your fucking eyes an