heart was pounding like it intended to explode, and her breath came short and fast as she checked the ladies’ room and found no Lucy.
Don’t have a panic attack now. Luce wouldn’t bail on you.
But, oh, her body wouldn’t listen. It was bracing itself for something terrible.
Outside, the night was clear and cold, and the wind brushed the back of her sweating legs. It was too hot inside the club, and hypothermic outside. What a choice. Her glasses fogged briefly and cleared. Her breathing eased a little, and the tight knot of squirming panic inside her dialed back a little bit.
There was a group of smokers in a knot around a parking meter, all laughing easily. One of them was a college-age boy, doing some sort of jig to the beat coming through the walls for the enjoyment of his buddies.
But no sleek dark head or jingle of gold bracelets. Sophie stood, irresolute, on the pavement, and someone bumped into her from behind.
She thought it was Lucy, and turned around, opening her mouth to scold her. Instead, her jaw dropped even farther as she looked up—and up … he was at least six feet tall—at the man who had jostled her at the bar.
Oh, for Christ’s sake. “Watch where you’re going,” Sophie snapped, and took two nervous, skipping steps back. Leave me alone. Go away.
“Sorry.” He smiled, showing incredibly white teeth, but the expression was like a grimace. “You okay?”
She didn’t have to reply. A scream punched the night, a high feminine note cut sharply off the moment it reached full-throated terror, and Sophie almost leaped out of her skin.
I know that voice! She was already moving, her heart hammering and her heels clattering. The bouncer at the Paintbox’s door had his head up, staring down the street as if trying to figure out where the sound had come from.
“Lucy!” she yelled, and paused for the barest moment before plunging into the alley. “Lucy!”
The alley ended on a blank brick wall, and there was a crumpled pale shape moving weakly in the gloom. A hand closed around her naked upper arm, hot fingers like steel bands driving in. Whoever had Sophie’s arm yanked her back as another shape—slim, male, with a blotch of blackness down its white shirt—looked up from its crouch, eyes running with crimson hellfire and darkness smeared across its lips.
Sophie screamed as the hand on her arm pulled her farther back. Another slice of golden light opened up, and slim graceful bodies piled through, crouching and leaping. They swarmed the thing with the red-gleaming eyes, and Sophie’s legs turned to noodles. She sagged, the hand on her arm the only thing keeping her upright, and when the iron fingers loosened she actually fell, the shock of her knees meeting filthy concrete jarring up through her hips and shoulders.
The pale, weakly moving shape on the ground wore Lucy’s face, and it was gasping, rattling breaths drawn in. Its throat bubbled and gaped, and as Sophie stared, it stopped moving—and the thing in the white shirt, snarling, turned away from the back of the alley and lunged for her.
Chapter 4
It shouldn’t have happened.
They’d hunted upir before, of course, while the old alpha was alive. But the farm had burned, their sleeping shaman and alpha dead in the flames, and now they were on their own, scrabbling to survive. They had cut both Tribe and upir a wide berth since.
And Zach shouldn’t have followed her, but she smelled too good to be true. Brunette, yes. Human, which was all right but not exactly appetizing. But young, female, warm—and with an edge of moonlight and snow, something cold and crystalline. Zach hadn’t smelled that in forever, and certainly not with the tantalizing musk of something that belonged to him overlaying it.
He’d leaned close and gotten a good lungful, and she was probably what he thought she was, which made it incredibly lucky, and incredibly—
But she’d flinched away as if she knew what he was, and searched the inside of the nightclub as if she’d lost her purse. She hadn’t; he’d kept his fingers well away from it, despite fleecing at least four people at the bar while he watched her. Pale skin and pale eyes. Nice hips, a glory of curling sandalwood hair, a pair of cute little steel-rimmed librarian glasses, and that ridiculous purse she kept clutching. She’d walked right out the front door while he was still cutting across the dance floor, harvesting another few wallets and emptying them by touch. It was almost too easy when you had the training and quicker-than-human reflexes. The rest of them had been working the crowd, Julia concentrating on businessmen and Brun sliding through knots of college boys with fat rolls to spend on killing their livers. Those fat rolls would keep the Family fed and moving.
But here, in the alley behind the nightclub, the smell of blood drenched the air, plucking at the beast in his bones. Zach yanked her back as the upir snarled, and the emergency door flew open, smacking against the brickwork so hard dust puffed out. Kyle was first through, his head up and nostrils flared, the Change rippling under his skin, and he leaped for the upir without pausing.
Oh, holy shit, no! Kyle shouldn’t be doing that, even if he was the alpha; he could get not just hurt but unzipped.
Kyle just hesitated too much.
The woman fell as he let go of her. He promptly shelved her as a problem to solve later and leaped, a fraction of a second slower than Kyle—who met the upir with a bone-shattering crunch, driving it sideways and down as it twisted and snarled. It had a white, loose shirt on, and was probably rabid if the just-spilled blood painting its front was any indication.
Not that the bloodsuckers needed much inducement to get really savage. But if an upir was hunting here, going after all the healthy young ones under bright lights and in the middle of crowds, it was either a baby, which was all right—or too burnsick for them to handle.
Snapping, growling, making a hell of a lot of noise, Kyle feinted and Zach’s bones made crackling sounds as the Change touched him, too, running through his body like fire. The animal in him snarled, lifted its head, and clawed at the blind-root thing in front of it, the enemy who twisted like a snake and spat, slashing with hands turned to shovel-shaped claws. If he could just hold it long enough, it would make a mistake and he would get it safely put down before it hurt any of the others. And before it made any more noise to attract witnesses.
But Julia was suddenly there, too, crowding her brothers aside as she let out a chilling glass-throated howl. The fight tipped and shifted, the upir kicked and slashed again. Kyle backhanded his sister, throwing her out of the way—and catching the claws meant for her, full across his unprotected belly.
Blood burst again. The smell of it, loaded with the terrible reek of a gutshot, smacked Zach across the face. He descended into the red welter of combat, the animal in him roaring, and didn’t care that there would be witnesses.
The upir died, shredded and shrieking, the rot of its last exhale throttling the alleyway. Zach landed, foul liquid staining his fingers, and his bones crackled again as he looked for more to kill.
They pressed against him, those of his kind, and a thread of scent tried to cut through the reek of death and decay. It was a reminder, something he had to attend to, some problem his human side had to solve.
The animal didn’t care. It
