“Why…why are you so strong?” Aubrey didn’t need to breathe, Anastasia knew, but she panted regardless.
She hadn’t been a vampire for very long, and Anastasia knew that habits were hard to break for those recently turned.
Anastasia didn’t answer Aubrey’s question. She couldn’t let herself think of this woman like the living—well, sort of—being that she was.
The Amazon closed her eyes and pressed the blade to the tissue-thin skin at Aubrey’s neck. Gritting her teeth together, she dug in, just the slightest bit. Darklings were heavily allergic to silver, though it could not kill them, and she heard the sizzle as the metal of her blade burned the Darkling’s flesh. The bittersweet tang of crimson blood, vampire blood, hit Anastasia’s nose and caused nausea to roil through her belly.
Then she was on her back on the floor, the wind knocked out of her, stars dancing in a multicolored conga above her head. As she wheezed, trying to kick her way up off of the ground, she saw a stream of blond hair waving in a sudden breeze as her target ran away at full vamp speed. Pressing a hand to her head in an attempt to stop the throbbing, she tried to get her leaden limbs to cooperate, but they wouldn’t listen to the signals that her brain was screaming at them.
Whatever had hit her, it had hit her hard. She might be inexperienced, but she was strong—one of the strongest Amazons in the compound. She had also been trained by the best, and she was certain that she would have seen this vamp moving toward her if he hadn’t had some unknown trick up his sleeve.
Blinking, she willed her eyes back into focus. As she did, a heavy weight settled itself over her body, straddling her hips, pressing her own blade to her cheek. Above her was a face, a face made up of lean planes and interesting angles, topped with a wealth of tawny hair.
“You will stay away from the Darkling.” The voice of the man whose identity she still didn’t know was low and rough, layered sexily with the accent of her homeland. He looked her over intently, the beam of his charcoal eyes studying her until she felt naked beneath him.
“Why did you stop me?” It was hard to speak with the blade pressed against her cheek, but after assessing the situation, she had decided that she was in no real danger. If he had truly wanted to kill her, then he would have done so already. If he had wanted to feed from her, he would have done that, too. “She is a rogue. This is the law.”
The heavily muscled man didn’t reply.
“How did you stop me?” Anastasia wasn’t done talking. “I should have seen you.”
Slowly the blade was drawn away from her cheek, then thrown across the floor, where she couldn’t reach it. As she was cursing the loss of her weapon of choice, the man slowly leaned down and licked the thin line of blood that had welled out of the shallow cut.
The slow, deliberate movement told Anastasia that he was merely asserting his control. Instead of angering her—she was a Carpathian Amazon, after all, and would not be dominated—she found herself intrigued at the feel of his tongue on her skin.
“What are you?” The man leaned over, bracing an arm on either side of her shoulders.
She had nowhere to run, but she wasn’t the kind of woman to give in that easily.
“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.” A hint of a smile crossed the vamp’s lips as she spoke and after a moment of consideration he nodded once in agreement.
“Some Darklings possess unique powers. I can wrap myself in shadows, can hide in thin air.”
Anastasia’s mouth fell open a bit at the admission.
Yes, she was in way over her head.
“I am a Carpathian Amazon. Sworn ally to the Darklings.” It was her turn…and maybe he truly had no idea who he was messing with. “You’ve just fucked up my mission from the Karpaty Council. So I guess the question is, who the hell are you?”
The man actually chuckled. He actually laughed at her! Angry now, Anastasia squirmed beneath him, trying to free herself, but only succeeding in making herself aware of the rock-hard muscles that were hidden beneath his black-as-night shirt and pants.
“You think this is funny? That woman is a rogue Darkling, a creature my people are sworn to hunt.” The man chuckled again, and Anastasia shoved at his chest.
Strong as she was, he was stronger.
She didn’t like it.
“You are small for an Amazon.” Settling his weight more heavily on her, as if experimenting with the pressure, she felt the jut of his hipbones press against the curve of her belly.
She also felt the ridge of an unmistakeable erection, one that startled her and at the same time made something hot sizzle through her blood.
To distract herself, she dignified his rude comment with a response.
“To be an Amazon is a state of being, you rube. It has nothing to do with size.” The man laughed harder, and Anastasia bucked her body up, trying to free herself. She must have made herself at least a bit of a nuisance, because the man placed a hand flat on her chest, in the hollow between her breasts, and pushed her flat onto her back. He held her there until she stilled, glaring up at him.
“I am Jasper Nagorsky. I, too, am here for the Council. I will let you fulfill your mission, little Amazon. Just as soon as I fill mine.” With that he lowered his head, letting his lips drift over hers.
Stunned by the movement, Anastasia let Jasper’s lips brush over hers softly but not at all gently. In the back of her mind she knew that he was branding her, claiming her, marking his triumph over her and that the kiss had nothing to do with attraction. Problem was, something deep in her belly responded and had her hungering to return the kiss.
Just before she lost control she remembered who she was. Why she was there. Bracing her hands again on his chest, she shoved as hard as she could, putting every ounce of her strength into the movement. She saw surprise flicker through his eyes quickly at the force behind her shove, then he settled back on his heels, still straddling her body.
She wished that that kiss had never happened, because now she was painfully aware of the press of his muscular thighs on either side of her hips.
Trying to look as dangerous as she could while propping herself up on her elbows, she nearly spat her words at him, all the while thinking frantically of what she could use as a weapon.
“You will not let me do anything.” She had two weapons at hand: her body, which the thick length jutting against his pants told her he wasn’t immune to, and the metal bobby pins in her hair. Even though heat from the physical contact with this big, raw male suffused her body, she envisioned stabbing one of those pins into his chest, pointy end first.
Not proud of what she was about to, Anastasia let her torso fall back, even arching her back the slightest bit, displaying her breasts in her tight black T-shirt like an offering. This was kill or be killed, after all. Lesson number one.
Jasper’s eyes followed the movement, if warily. Slicking her hands up the sides of her body, she ran them through her hair, dislodging two pins at the same time.
When his eyes darkened with arousal, when he again bent his head, she
