Читать книгу Demon Kissed - Patti O'Shea - Страница 6

Even this late at night, even in this neighborhood, there were people on the streets of Los Angeles. Bree couldn’t worry about them or what they thought of her. Not now.

Not when she had a pair of demons on her ass.

Her breathing was harsh and ragged, her heart pounded, but she ran on, her hand curled to catch the blood streaming down her arm. If it spattered to the sidewalk, she’d be leaving a trail anyone could follow, and demons already had too many advantages.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw nothing except a few people staring after her. Clear. That wouldn’t last. She’d only hurt her attackers enough to slow them momentarily. And piss them off. If they caught up to her— No, make that when they caught up to her, the demonic duo would make her pay.

Reaching a corner, she turned abruptly. The change of direction probably wouldn’t lose her pursuers, not when they had such heightened senses, but it was worth a shot.

Wouldn’t her mentor be proud if he could see her now? His top demon slayer running from the enemy.

Bree tried to smile, to show fate that the irony wasn’t lost on her, but sometimes a strategic retreat was smarter than battling it out. Smarter than dying. A live slayer could fight another day. A dead one was a waste of training.

Another turn put her in an area that was deserted. A single streetlight glowed and moonlight spotlighted the graffiti tagging the buildings. The gang symbols spun, and Bree swallowed a curse. She had to stop the bleeding before she ended up more than light-headed.

Ahead, she saw a warehouse, the first without a chain-link fence around it, and changed course. She couldn’t stay long, but she needed a minute. Or two.

Jimmying the lock took longer than she liked and Bree was nervous by the time she pushed open the door. Immediately, she closed it behind her.

High windows allowed the glow of the moon to illuminate the space, and the walls here were covered with graffiti, too. Dirt and dust had accumulated deeply enough to cover the toes of her boots and each step kicked up more. There were footprints in every direction showing that others had used it for shelter, but no one was here now. She could feel the emptiness.

Everywhere she looked, there were scattered piles of debris, mostly made up of rotting wood and chunks of cement. Bigger castoffs were strewn about as well—broken pallets, damaged crates—and they added a feeling of eeriness to the abandoned building.

Shaking it off, Bree headed for a patch of moonlight. She pushed her jacket off her left shoulder and studied her wound. The puncture was ugly and throbbed like mad, but blood wasn’t flowing any longer and his talon had missed bone.

It could have been worse. Hell, she’d believed it was worse than this from the way the blood had been running down her arm. Not that this wasn’t bad enough—she’d never been hurt this severely in battle before—but it wouldn’t need stitches and she’d only be off the streets for a few days.

A sound jerked her attention from her injury. Damn, the bastards had found her.

Bree had the ability to hide her energy, but she’d been too weakened to use it while she’d been running. Now, she delved deep, dredging up what remained of her strength. No matter what, she had to come up with enough to conceal her presence. She managed to cloak herself as she moved away from the light.

Scanning for a good place to hide, she chose a cluster of large, dilapidated crates. They tipped precariously near the wall, but they deepened the shadows, and odds were they wouldn’t fall on her. Probably.

The wait seemed interminable. Her nerves pulled taut and blood roared in her ears, but despite that, Bree was able to hear the demons. They were drawing closer.

Her hand dropped to the dagger strapped to her thigh and she eased it from its sheath.

The enemy wasn’t in any hurry. They moved slowly, and she assumed it was because they wanted to be thorough, to make sure they didn’t miss her. Only training prevented her gasp when they came into view. There were three—not two—and none of them were the males she’d fought earlier.

How many demons were after her?

As she watched, they checked behind every pile, every pallet, anywhere she could hide. They’d find her.

Running wouldn’t work. If she moved, they’d hear. At the very least, they’d see her. There was too much open space between her and the exit, and the dark couldn’t hide her from a demon’s eyes.

Bree held her breath as they neared.

“She’s ours.”

Her head snapped toward the voice. Her original attackers had arrived. The three who’d been searching turned and walked to meet the duo in the middle of the floor. “The prize belongs to whoever can capture it. That’s not you.”

“You’ll not swoop in and profit from our work. We fought her. We weakened her. We have claim,” one of the duo said.

Her heart stuttered. Could she get lucky enough that the two groups would fight? If they inflicted enough damage on each other, she might make it out of this alive yet.

The demons argued. Their voices grew louder, angrier, and their postures became more belligerent. It shouldn’t be much—

One of the pair flung himself across the gap and went after the leader of the trio. For a moment, she watched, but they were focused only on each other. Now was the time to get out of here.

Before she could do more than shift her weight, she felt arms wrap around her, imprisoning her against a muscular male form. His hand covered her mouth. For an instant, her body betrayed her and Bree nearly leaned into the man. Nearly surrendered.

Never!

She began to struggle, but he tightened his hold, forcing her to be still. His lips were against her ear, and voice barely a whisper, her captor said, “Hush, I’m here to help you.”

Andras. As relief overwhelmed her, Bree sagged against his chest, but only for an instant. They weren’t safe, and if she acted like some helpless idiot, she might get him killed right along with her. She firmed her knees and regained her poise.

His embrace eased and Bree turned in his arms, her breasts pressed against his chest. She couldn’t stop the shudder of awareness that coursed through her, and despite the danger, she allowed herself a few seconds to drink in the sight of him.

His dark brown hair waved gently and it appeared as if he’d impatiently pushed it off his face. His chin was square, firm; he had high cheekbones and full lips that she wished she could kiss. Like her, he was wearing jeans and a black leather jacket, but his white T-shirt glowed like neon in the moonlight.

Bree almost reached for the zipper of his coat, wanting to make sure the shirt didn’t give his position away, wanting him to remain safe and hidden.

Hidden. Andras might be a demon slayer like she was, but it was unlikely that he had the ability to conceal his energy. Few did. That meant they had to get out of here before the demons read his presence. But how had he found her?

A demon went sailing, landing on the ground about ten yards away from where they stood. If he looked to his left… But he didn’t. The dust hadn’t even settled before he leaped to his feet and charged back into the fray.

“We need to leave while they’re busy,” she whispered. “Come on.”

But when she tried to move, Andras locked his arms around her again, stopping her.

“Wha—“

“Not now.”

“But those demons—“

“Aren’t the problem. Be quiet.”

She scowled. Did he think that his Y chromosome gave him insight into the situation that she didn’t have? She was the one who’d battled two of these males and she probably had as much experience at demon slaying as he did. Bree started to push away from him, but her shoulder twinged and she bit back a groan.

Before she could make a second attempt to get free, motion caught her eye. Another demon strolled toward the fray. She hadn’t realized he was there.

He paused to watch the fight for a moment before resuming his progress toward the combatants. Something about him, about his lack of concern over the others, made her tense.

In a glance, she pegged him at a couple of inches over six feet—tall, but not quite as tall as Andras. His blond hair gleamed in the moonlight and the ends brushed the shoulders of his black turtleneck. His chest was broad, his movements graceful. With his elegant demeanor, he should have been a vampire. Hell, Bree would have preferred a vampire.

One of the fighters caught sight of the newcomer and froze. As his motionlessness registered, the other males stopped and followed his stare. And went as still as the first.

This was so not good.

Her gaze turned to Andras. The grimness of his expression made a lump lodge in her throat. Months ago, she’d watched him take down a demon powerful enough that she would have thought twice before engaging, and if he was concerned now, there was good cause. Her hand clenched around her dagger.

“Gentlemen,” the demon drawled. He had a slight accent that she thought might be Russian. “You can leave now, thank you.”

Nobody moved.

The blond male smiled and it was so cold, Bree’s heart began racing. “Not a wise decision. You’ve no hope of overcoming me.”

“Five against one,” the leader of the trio said. The other four shifted positions, aligning themselves on either side of him to show unity.

“So be it.” With a flick of a hand, the newcomer sent out ropes of fire from his fingertips. They hit the leader square in the chest, but the male didn’t go down.

All five demons simultaneously fired at their adversary.

“Move. Quietly,” Andras whispered, and grabbing her hand, led her through the shadows near the wall.

Bree squelched the urge to look over her shoulder to see what was happening. With the debris on the floor, she needed to watch her step or risk tripping over something, and any noise would bring six demons down on their heads.

A high-pitched scream made her swallow hard—some instinct told her it was a member of the gang. How powerful was the blond demon? A second cry echoed through the warehouse and Andras picked up the pace.

They were about halfway to the exit when they startled a rat. In its panic, it grazed a rubble heap and dislodged a piece of wood. A small board clattered as it hit concrete. Loudly.

Andras moved just short of a run now, but the demons would have heard the sound even in the middle of a fight.

He stopped abruptly and Bree plowed into his back. Stomach sinking, she went up on her toes to peer over his shoulder. Everything inside her froze. The blond male blocked their path.

Bree tried to stand next to Andras—she’d fight with him—but he shifted, keeping her squarely behind his body.

“Step aside,” the demon ordered. “She’s my kill.”