When He Was Bad Page 65
Smiled his fanged smile.
And fired.
Santiago shoved her to the ground, two seconds too late.
Her breath gasped out at the burning pain in her shoulder. Realization dawned as tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. Holy shit, that bastard bit me, and he’s shot me, too!
Snarls. A roar. The sound of claws scraping over metal. Then the jaguar was there, crouching over her, its warm body pressing against her side.
“Easy.” The word came from Santiago.
Miranda was still struggling to catch her breath. Speech was sure as hell beyond her.
He’d shot her.
A low mewling vibrated up from the big cat’s throat. She blinked, stared up at him, and became trapped in his heated gaze.
He could kill her with one bite. Rip her throat right out. Or use those claws to cut her open.
But he just lowered his head. Pushed his nose against her throat.
“She’s gonna be all right.” Santiago’s voice was gruff.
The sirens were close now. The sound grated on her ears.
And the vampire? Where the hell was he? Miranda tried to get up—
The cat snarled.
“Stay down!” Santiago snapped.
“P—Paul . . .” She was shaking now. And her shoulder was pulsating with pain.
“Bastard’s gone.” Santiago’s hands were on her shoulder, and he was clamping down, hard. “Shot you because he knew Lawson would get distracted. Made a break for it the second you hit the ground.”
Dammit.
More sirens. The swirl of lights above her head.
“Get the hell out of here, Lawson. You know they can’t see you.”
But the jaguar wasn’t moving. Miranda lifted her right hand. The fingers were trembling as she reached for him. Her hand brushed over his fur. So soft. And wet. Her hand lifted.
Blood.
The jaguar was hurt too. And judging by that fight, probably even worse than she was.
Santiago grabbed her hand, swearing. “Dammit, be careful! A few swipes of that cat’s tongue could peel the flesh right off your hand.”
Miranda swallowed. Found she couldn’t look away from those golden eyes.
Santiago was still muttering, telling her to stay on guard, but she just wasn’t afraid of the jaguar. Of Cain.
Because in those eyes, she didn’t see an animal. She only saw Cain.
But the cops were so close. If they saw him—“Go!” The word was ripped from her throat. “Dammit, don’t w-worry . . . about m-me.” Patrol cars roared onto the graveled drive. “R-run!”
His body was tense.
“R-run,” she whispered now.
His gaze held hers.
Then he turned and ran away, heading toward the woods.
Her eyes closed. A tear trickled down her cheek.
Fucking shot. What a damn bad night.
“Shit! Miranda! God,cuz, what have you done to yourself?”
To herself? Hell! At the clearly insane question, her lashes lifted and she glared up at Sam’s frowning face.
Damn. Damn. Damn. Cain bounded through Miranda’s house, once more in human form. Maintaining the male body was hard, though, with the rage spewing from his every pore.
The bastard had shot her.
To vamps, even the normally vicious degenerates, blood was life. Precious. To be taken with teeth and mouth and tongue.
It was never wasted. Not human blood, anyway.
But Paul hadn’t cared about spilling Miranda’s blood. He’d been intent only on causing pain. To her.
To Cain.
And his plan had worked perfectly.
Cain grabbed his pair of jeans, jerked them on, and shoved on his shoes. Screw a shirt, he didn’t have time to waste finding one somewhere in the couch cushions.
He rushed toward the door, aware of the pounding in his temples from the shrieking sirens.
She’s all right. The wound had been shallow. The vampire had wanted to kill her, but he’d missed her heart. Caught only the edge of her shoulder. Thanks to Santiago. Now he’d owe the human a new debt.
Her blood had been on the ground. Her face had been too pale, but she was all right.
Cain’s hand slapped against the screen door, sending it flying back as he ran outside. He’d had to trek back around the house, shift in the woods, then run, naked, into the rear entrance of her house to avoid detection when the cruisers had blared onto the scene.
The humans were everywhere. Searching with flashlights. Guns drawn. Voices muttering.
He’d barely escaped being caught in his animal form.
And as for the vampire, well, it had sure as hell been his lucky night.
But his luck wouldn’t last forever.
His gaze scanned the yard, looking for the one human who mattered.
He found her almost instantly. Miranda had been strapped to a stretcher.
“This is crazy!” she was saying, voice furious, but a little weak. “It’s a scratch, okay? I don’t need to go to the hospital for some—”
He pushed through the gathered deputies and EMTs. Caught her hand. So soft. “You’re going.” A white bandage covered her shoulder. It was soaked red with her blood.
“Bullet’s out, but it cut her up like hell,” Santiago told him.
Cain shot him a fast glance. Saw that someone had already bandaged his throat. Cain’s fingers tightened around hers. “You’re definitely going.”
Her head shook frantically, the inky black strands of hair fluttering around her face. “N-no, II can’t leave. Paul—”
“Is gone for tonight.” And now that the vampire knew they were hunting him, it was doubtful he’d be back.
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