It was never a good idea to bleed in front of vampires, even vampires disciplined by Enforcement Agency training and dedicated to the service of her very powerful, very unforgiving mate. Not that she really expected to live long enough tonight to worry about the potential blood thirsts of her guards. It didn't seem likely that she or any of them would survive these next few moments.
"Run," growled the one in back with her. He had a gun in each hand. His pupils were contracted to vertical slits in the center of their amber irises as he glared at the door handle beside her. The panel swung open with the force of his Breed mind. "Run as far as you can. It's your only hope." Claire scrambled out and hit the ground in a clumsy stagger. Her legs were weak, shaking. Her head was ringing, her heart hammering in her chest. She heard the guard roar as he got out of the vehicle on the other side and stood to face whatever assault was coming. Claire drifted toward the tall black shadows of the woods as the chaos continued all around her. A couple of guards raced past her, weapons drawn, as though any of them could stand against the hell that had arrived here tonight. She couldn't imagine what kind of army had opened up such a brutal offensive strike.
Claire shot a terrified look over her shoulder as she made her way to the edge of the forest. Whoever the attacking forces were, they were coming closer now. The unearthly glow of the forest behind her was growing brighter, marking their progress. Her steps slowed as the orange light reached through the trees like rays of scorching sunshine in the midst of coldest darkness. She stared, transfixed, unable to look away from the approach of what was probably going to be her death. A silhouette began to take shape. Not an army, but a single man. A man whose entire being was alive with flames.
For one instant--one jarring, delusional instant--Claire thought she recognized the broad cut of his shoulders, the fluid swagger of his stride. Impossible, of course. Still, a glimmer of familiarity kindled in the back of her mind. Could she know him somehow? But this was no man--certainly none that she knew, now or ever. This creature was something out of a nightmare. He was death incarnate. The crack of a gun firing jolted Claire's attention to the gathered group of Enforcement Agents nearby. Another bullet rang out, then another and another, until the air was filled with the sound. For all the good it did. The man of flame kept walking, unfazed. The bullets popped like firecrackers as they neared him, exploding harmlessly the instant they met the wall of heat that surrounded his body. When the last shell was finally spent, he paused.
He lifted his hands in front of him, though not in surrender. With little more than a second's warning, he turned loose a volley of fire on the defending guards. Claire couldn't bite back her scream of horror as the flames engulfed them, incinerating them on the spot. She knew the instant the man noticed her. She felt the heat of his eyes pierce her from across the distance, every nerve ending in her body going taut with fear. "Oh, God," she whispered, stumbling backward a few paces. The man of flames took a step in her direction, all of his terrible fury now rooted entirely on her. Claire bolted, not daring to look back again as she plunged into the woods and ran for all she was worth.
Chapter Three
He walked unfazed through the smoldering ash and ruin on the pavement. His boots crunched over broken glass and wrenched metal, past puddles of spilled, flaming oil and the smoking remains of the Breed males who'd fired on him with their paltry weapons. Their bullets hadn't stopped him. Nothing could, not when he was like this. The ground sizzled under the heavy soles of his boots--not from annihilated debris, but from the heat that was still running through his limbs, an electrical crackle that traveled every inch of his body in pulsing waves of lethal, pure living energy. He'd let his fury get out of control tonight; he knew that. He'd understood well enough how important it was to contain the fire inside of him, but his hatred of Wilhelm Roth had made him careless--first in the city, then here. His thirst to complete his vengeance had pushed him over a steep ledge and now he was falling, falling ... Failing, when justice was so near his grasp. Roth hadn't been at his Hamburg Darkhaven. Nor had he been among the dead who'd tried to flee these grounds tonight.
His vision flooded red with heat, Reichen cast a ruthless eye over the wreckage. He could see no sign of the bastard. But Roth's mate was here. She would know where to find him. And if her lips refused to give him up, her blood would tell soon enough. Claire. Her name flickered like a shorting-out circuit in his mind, dimly, darkly, only to be devoured by the rage that owned him. Right now, to him, she wasn't anyone he'd known, once or ever. She was no one he'd ever held in his arms. No one he'd ever loved. Right now, like this, his fury knew only that she was the female who belonged to Wilhelm Roth. And that made her as much Reichen's enemy as Roth himself. He stalked toward the edge of the woods where he'd watched the Breedmate run. Vaguely he registered the scent of melting pine pitch and singeing leaves as he passed into the thick stand of trees.
Low-hanging branches curled out of his way, bent from his path by the heat rolling off him with each stride. He knew precisely where the female had fled. He could hear the rapid panting of her breath as he walked deeper into the forest. She was afraid, the scent of her terror a crisp note that the drifting smoke didn't quite conceal. Up ahead now, her footsteps went silent. She'd found someplace to hide from him--or so she thought. Reichen's boots chewed up an unerring path toward her. Bloodred, laser-sharp, his focus locked on a huge ball of crumbling earth and the exposed, twisted dead roots of a fallen tree.
Roth's Breedmate crouched behind it. Reichen heard the pound of her heartbeat kick even faster as he neared and the current traveling his body began to cook the ancient root ball, steam rising from deep inside the dark clump. It would be just moments before the whole thing ignited. His heat was too strong now and roiling outward in pulsing waves. He wouldn't be able to stop the coming explosion, even if he tried.