Before Dawn (9 page)

Almost casually, he picked up the stone knife stained red with his blood and studied it, angling it this way and that. “For years, I searched for this knife.” He ran the pad of his thumb along an edge. Fresh blood welled, sliding down the blade. “Legend says it was used to expel the evil souls that took over living bodies. You make five cuts on the possessed victim—throat, wrists, heels—and when they bleed, the evil soul would be forced out with the blood.

“Since the only soul in your body is yours,
it
will be forced out, leaving this body for
mon ange
.”

Somehow she found her voice. It was hoarse and tiny, but she could speak. “You tried this many times before and failed every time.”

“But not with this knife and not with someone who shares Angélique’s blood. This time, it
will
work,” he declared fervently, eyes bright with fanaticism. He pressed the tip of the knife against the hollow of her throat. “I found the knife, and it led me to you.
Avant le point du jour, ma belle Angélique sera avec moi. Le destin en avait décidé ainsi
.”

It was meant to be.

Edmond leaned closer, smiling malevolently. Then his head exploded.

* * * * *

Mercy’s scream jolted through Ryan, but he didn’t stop firing. The reports were loud in the enclosed space and blended into each other until it was a wall of noise that expanded to every corner and crevice in the room.

Edmond whirled around, the top part of his head a mess of blood and darker matter. Three more head shots before Ryan aimed lower. Each bullet made the vampire’s body jerk with the force of impact, but he didn’t go down. The stench of burnt flesh and hair filled the air as the silver bullets did what little they could. As Ryan emptied one gun, then another, in the periphery of his vision, he saw Vanessa drag Mercy onto the floor.

Beneath the blood, Edmond’s grin gleamed white in his already healing face. He wiped a hand across it, sweeping away the more solid chunks, flicked his hand once to shake off the stubborn bits, and kept coming at Ryan.

Click, click, click.

He was empty. Ryan tossed the guns and went for the wooden stake on his right thigh. Edmond came at him, almost a blur. Ryan stepped to the side, but he wasn’t nearly quick enough. A fist plowed into his solar plexus, and with Mercy’s cry and Vanessa’s curses in his ears, he was lifted off his feet and airborne. The stake flew from his fingers as he crashed into a chair. It splintered loudly under his sudden sprawling weight. He slammed onto the cement floor, and the air whooshed from his lungs. There was no pain. That would come later. For one panicked heartbeat, however, he couldn’t breathe. Still, knowing he didn’t have the luxury of waiting for those dual organs to start up again, Ryan forced himself to roll to his feet.

Edmond, however, was already kissing distance from him. Still crouched, Ryan rammed his shoulder sideways into his opponent’s knee. The joint didn’t break, but the vampire went down. Ryan barely had time to stand before Edmond was up and lunging for him, looking bat-like with his arms extended, fingers clawed, his cape flapping. Without thinking, Ryan grabbed the collar of the cape with both hands and, foot planted in Edmond’s abdomen, let himself fall backward, taking the vampire with him. As his back hit the floor, he pumped his leg and opened his fists, and the vampire sailed over his head. There was the dull, heavy sound of a body smacking the floor, followed by a shout of fury.

He sprang to his feet.

“McGinnis!”

Vanessa tossed a stake at him. Ryan stretched out a hand, ready to pluck the column of wood out of the air—and was struck from behind, the blow hard enough to make his head snap back.
Fuck.
He stumbled, turned, and saw insanity and murder in the glassy eyes fixed on him. The vampire’s cold, slippery hands wrapped around Ryan’s neck and squeezed, thumbs digging into the underside of Ryan’s jaw. Neck muscles instinctively tensed, Ryan jerked his chin to his chest, trying to make it harder for the creature. He reached down, his fingers brushing the hilt of his dagger. A gun fired, the sound reverberating through the room. Edmond jerked, lips peeled back from his teeth, and fell down on one knee, taking Ryan with him.

Thank you, Vanessa.

Edmond didn’t release his stranglehold on Ryan, but he was distracted for a split second. With his fingers, Ryan speared the vampire’s throat, and Edmond’s head jerked back.

A loud
clang
behind them as metal crashed onto cement.

Edmond’s head whipped around even as he screamed, “
No!
”

His grip loosened. In one swift, arcing movement, Ryan drew the dagger from its sheath, swung his arm up, and plunged down, burying the entire length of the silver blade in the vampire’s eye socket.

Edmond shrieked, throwing himself back and covering his face with both hands, shaking like a man with palsy. He shrieked again, his body writhing in pain as he grasped the protruding hilt and, hands quivering, started pulling the blade out of the smoking wound. Ryan felt the remains of the broken chair beneath his knees. A cursory glance at the littered floor, then he snatched up a pointy length of wood and fell on the vampire. Edmond tried to buck him off, but Ryan only clamped his thighs about the vampire’s torso more tightly. With a quick strike with the heel of his hand, he forced the blade back in and, as fresh screams rent the air, stabbed the vampire in the chest with the makeshift stake.

It was like a fire ignited inside the vampire’s body, engulfing him from within. He went black, clothes and all, like hardened lava. Shifting, magma-like red could be seen through the countless cracks in the outer shell. In a heartbeat, the black turned to gray, and the vampire crumbled into ash beneath Ryan. The silver knife fell to the floor with a clatter.

In the aftermath, the sudden silence was deafening. The room and everyone in it were still, like a tableau.

Suddenly, a small weight hit his chest and slender arms went around his neck, nearly choking him. Soft hair and a familiar scent teased his nostrils. Mercy. His own arms went around her, squeezed until he was sure he’d hurt her, but she didn’t protest. Relief washed over him, leaving him exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. She’d seen him kill Edmond and not cleanly, yet she hadn’t run away from him.

Kneeling on the cold concrete, he held Mercy while her body shook with quiet tears and decided thirty-three was a good age to retire.

“We have to move.”

Mercy wanted to ignore the words of reason coming from behind them. Moving meant letting go of Ryan and him letting go of her, and she wasn’t ready. But the other woman was right, so when Ryan stood up, she let him take her with him. As he straightened, a wince escaped his lips, and Mercy started to pull back, but he tightened the arm around her waist.

“Just the adrenaline wearing off,” he explained, sounding a little stiff.

“How badly are you hurt?” asked Mercy as she tilted her head back enough to scan him from head to toe, her hands hovering gently because she was afraid to hurt him even more. “Do we need to get you to a hospital?”

He shook his head and pulled her closer until he could bury his face in her disheveled hair. He inhaled deeply.

Pressed up against his side, she let her eyes sweep the dusty room. No, not dust but ashes. Angélique’s ashes from the urn Mercy had deliberately knocked over to distract Edmond, now mingled with his. They were together in death, and she sincerely hoped they were together in hell.

“The beauty of dealing with vampires is there’s no body to worry about,” murmured the woman who’d freed her as she followed Mercy’s gaze. Her dark eyes came to rest on Mercy and Ryan. “I’ll go deal with Savage. You two look like you need to find someplace safe and crash for the next twenty-four hours.”

She left, her steps quick and silent.

Mercy allowed herself the brief luxury of burying her face in Ryan’s chest as he awkwardly smoothed her hair before they made their way toward the exit.

As they emerged from the warehouse, Mercy wasn’t sure if Ryan was leaning on her or vice versa, but it didn’t matter. They were alive. The bad guy was toast, quite literally, and the sky was all warm hues of pink and orange and purple as the sun inched over the Atlantic.

Dawn.

Ryan paused and exhaled slowly, his body relaxing. And Mercy understood because dawn had a new significance in a world that was no longer ordinary.

The darkness and the air cloaking her were hot and heavy and familiar.

Hands, male and large and rough with calluses, skimmed over her body in a surprisingly—and teasingly—gossamer touch. In response, Mercy arched her back, pushing her body up, wanting harder, deeper caresses. A bead of arousal trickled from between her legs. Lips followed the hands, branding every part of her body with each press of them upon her flesh. The curve of her shoulders, the hollow of her throat, the aching tips of her nipples, the taut surface of her belly. Sensation built, making her skin tight and heated until the air felt cool in comparison. The hands and lips trailed lower. She moaned and twisted and thrust her pelvis up shamelessly.

The touch she wanted didn’t come. Instead, hands covered her knees, parting them, caressing the softer skin on the backs of them. Then lips retraced the path and moved to rounded calves, the sensitive arches of her feet, making her toes curl as she felt the kiss he placed there deep within her aching core. She threw out her arms, and her palms found the bed sheets and swept over them, then curled into them when her toe was sucked into a warm, wet mouth. Mercy gasped. His tongue, rough and soft at the same time, rubbed the pad of her toe repeatedly.

She called out his name and earned the sharp nip of his teeth. He teased her until she trembled and begged for him to come inside her. With a chuckle, he shuffled closer, letting her feet slide up his chest and over his shoulders. The hot, achingly soft tip of his cock parted the damp curls covering her sex, brushed her swollen clit. A current shot through her. Mercy sucked in a breath and didn’t release it, her muscles tense in anticipation of that first thrust.

She waited, but he didn’t move, and frustration blazed inside her. She reached for him, or tried to, but her limbs wouldn’t obey. She struggled to move, to sit up, to get closer to him and couldn’t. Something solid and heavy was atop her, keeping her pinned down, and she struggled harder.

As she fought to throw off the unseen weight, from a distance she heard a voice calling her name. It got louder and louder, closer and closer, as the dream receded and the darkness with it. When she opened her eyes, Ryan was staring down at her, concern on his face, brows drawn together. He lay above her, propped up on his forearms and as naked as she. They had stumbled from the shower, too exhausted to do more than fall onto the closest bed and into oblivion.

“Edmond?” he asked, carefully hooking stray strands of her hair with his forefinger and drawing them away from her face.

She shook her head. “No.”
Thank, God.

With desire still coursing through her body, her hands swept up his back then down to taut, muscular buttocks. Her thighs spread open, and her fingers flexed, urging him closer. His stiff cock twitched against her soft, moist flesh. She lifted her hips a little. “You,” she breathed. “Just you.”

He went rigid, and his breath hitched in his throat. “You’re hurt,” he managed to whisper hoarsely.

“I know,” she whispered back, and hooked her legs around his waist, opening herself even more to him. “But don’t say no.”

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, muttered a curse, and worked his cock inside her sex, which was swollen and damp from her dreams. His moan mingled with hers. Her inner muscles clenched around that thick column of flesh, as if trying to keep it there. She almost didn’t want him to move. She wanted to stop time and stay in this moment. Soon, however, her body clamored for more.

“Jesus, Mercy.” His voice was guttural.

He dropped his head next to hers, burying his face in the pillow. When he moved inside her, her hips bucked and her hands skated up his back to clutch at his shoulders. He groaned in approval and wedged a thick forearm under her hips, lifting them. He thrust, and the new angle made him go deeper. Her mouth fell open to gasp for oxygen as her senses flooded with pleasure.

The next thrust drew a choked, raspy sound from her. As did the next and the next and the next. Soon her world consisted only of the rhythm of their sweating bodies, the heat of his skin, the hardness of his shaft, and the sizzle of sensation expanding until it pushed at her skin from within and threatened to break through.

A tingle started in her spine, reached her clitoris, and her orgasm came in a rush. It hit her hard, swelling like it would last forever. She cried out as her whole body shook.

He muttered unintelligibly in her ear, pushed his cock deep into her one final time, grinding his groin against hers as he came.

After the last shudder, he collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with his greater weight. Mercy unhooked her ankles and lowered her legs but didn’t push him off. Her arms remained looped loosely about his neck and left shoulder.