Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

Samantha

We’re heading down the alley when I spot a door slightly ajar on the side of the building. Instantly, every hair on my body stands on end. Why would they be so careful about the front door and then just leave the side door open?

“That’s the door. It’s already open,” I tell Zane softly.

“So we will not need to break it open. That is good.”

“I don’t think it is,” I say.

When I glance at him, he looks confused, but I press my finger to my mouth in the universal signal to stay quiet, then approach the door. Listening at it, I can hear the faint sound of someone talking, but it’s hard to tell where it’s coming from with the noise of the street and the rioting.

Opening the door slowly, I make just enough room for us to fit, then slide into the darkened kitchen. All the lights other than the emergency ones have been turned off, for some reason, leaving an eerie feel to the room. I keep going, then freeze. On the ground near us is a man. Blood pools beneath his head and the coppery scent washes over me.

Heart thumping, I hurry to the man’s side, kneel down, and feel for his pulse. There’s nothing. This man is dead. Somebody must have killed him.

I glance up at Zane and shake my head. A troubled expression crosses his face before he helps me up. We slowly move to the door that separates the kitchen from the front of the house. A man starts talking, and this time there’s no doubt he's in the dining room, his voice loud over the sound of someone weeping.

“Shut up! Didn’t I tell you to fucking shut up!”

The weeping increases, and then there’s the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

I push the door open just a little and see six men standing in the room, a couple with guns, and about a dozen people on the ground. My gaze instantly goes to the man glaring down at a little old lady who is sprawled on the ground.

A rumbling noise comes, and I shift to see Zane looking at the scene in front of him. I realize he’s growling, and some deep instinct inside of me knows that Zane is dangerous right now. Not to me, but certainly to the men in that room.

Which is a good thing.

I close the door, then stretch up onto my tiptoes to whisper in Zane’s ear. “Two of the men have guns. Those metal things in their hands. Those are dangerous. They can shoot us like arrows, only worse.”

He shifts so his cool breath hits my ear. “Then you stay behind me until the guns are gone.”

It’s a sweet thought, but I’m not a wilting flower. I’m a dragon. I don’t need to stay behind him to survive. If anything, me knowing more about this world means I should be doing my best to protect him .

I shiver and speak in his ear once more. “We both need to be careful.”

He kisses my throat. “ My Samantha.”

“I know,” I whisper back. “I know.”

He wants to keep me safe. That’s how he’s wired, and I’m pretty sure I can’t do a damn thing about it, so I’ll just have to be aware enough about the guns to keep him safe too.

“Listen,” Dahlia’s voice rings out. “We’re going to do what you say. We’re going to let you take us to the ATM to empty our accounts, but you don’t have to hurt us.”

“What did you say to me, bitch?” he growls.

I indicate to Zane it’s time, and then I shove into the room, racing straight for one of the men with a gun. They don’t have time to react; we’re too fast. I grab the hand and snap it, leaving him screaming, and the gun tumbles from his hand. Then I kick the gun as hard as I can, so it goes sliding under a booth, and I square off with the men around me.

Zane, beside me, has gone for the other man with the gun. He yanks his hand upward. The gun goes off into the ceiling, and everybody screams. Then, Zane snatches the gun out of his hand, glances at it in confusion, and snaps the thing in half.

“No more guns,” he says with a deadly smile that shouldn’t be so sexy.

The men go crazy and attack. A man hits me in the face, but I manage to duck the next blow. Another one grabs me from behind and lifts me up for half a second before I elbow him as hard as I can from behind as another man approaches me from the front.

Dahlia screams and jumps to her feet. She leaps on the man in front of me, the one preparing to hit me again. He does a spin, then grabs her from off his back and throws her. Her head hits the side of one of the tables, and she slumps to the floor.

A scream tears from my lips and smoke rises from my mouth. “Mistake,” I murmur.

Everything slows down. When I break his face, when I crush his bones, when I don’t stop, even when he begs for me to. Another man tries to stop me. I feel his blows, feel his anger, feel my flesh being hurt, but I don’t react until I’m done with the man who hurt Dahlia. Then I turn on the new man.

But I don’t even get to attack him. Zane is on him like an animal. He pummels him, and another man, with his fists. They try to run, they try to escape, but he’s everywhere.

When none of the bad guys are moving, Zane comes to me and touches my face. “Samantha?”

“I’m okay,” I say. “But Dahlia…”

I rush to her side and touch her neck. Her pulse is there, strong and steady. Relief flows through me, even though the cut on her forehead will need stitches. “We need to take her and get her out of here. We need to get her back to base.”

Zane doesn’t hesitate. He sweeps her up into his arms. Her long dark hair falls like a curtain around her, and her tan skin looks several shades paler.

My gaze goes to the other people in the room. “The riot is still going on. It’s not safe out there.”

One man, clearly a cook, stands and gets the gun the gun I kicked under the booth. “It’s okay. We’ll lock the side door and remain here until things calm down. No assholes will get back in here after that.”

“And then we’ll tie these thugs up,” the old lady says, rubbing her cheek.

“Just… be careful,” is all I can manage.

We leave the grateful people behind and watch as they lock the door behind us. I lead and Zane follows, carrying Dahlia. The mob in the street isn’t any calmer, so I’m knocked around a bit as we make our way back to the car. I’m sure Zane is too, but I imagine it’s pretty hard to successfully knock around someone as big as him.

When we reach the alley, there is a ground of people at the very end of it. Zane and I exchange a glance, but we get Dahlia into the car and lay her out on the back seat. I’m about to get in the driver’s seat when Zane stops me.

“One moment.”

Then, to my horror, he goes to approach the four men at the back of the alley.

I curse under my breath and lock the car, hurrying after him, wondering what he’s thinking. We’ve seen enough trouble today that we don’t have to bring more trouble to our doorstep. But then I see the four men have surrounded something. What, I’m not sure, but their cruel laughter makes my heartbeat race.

We need to just get out of here and get Dahlia to the doctor.

“Leave it alone,” Zane says, his words low and threatening.

The four men jump a little and turn around, which is exactly when I see the long haired orange cat cowering in the corner, trapped between the end of the alley and some boxes and crap. Its long fur is matted and filthy, and its ears are back in fear. Probably because they’re using sticks to poke at it.

“What did you say to me?” one of the men says, taking another step forward, dropping the stick he’s carrying, his fists clenched.

Zane doesn’t falter. “I said to leave the cat alone.”

The man smirks. “Make me.”

Zane’s eyes flash with rage. “With pleasure.”

I have never seen anyone move as fast as Zane does. One minute, he’s in front of me, the next he’s in front of the man beating the shit out of him. I’m pretty sure his opponent was knocked out, but he’s still beaten for several long seconds before he even hits the floor.

Then Zane flashes a smile at the other three. “Your turn.”

They don’t even hesitate. They run like hell right back out of the alley, like the very hounds of hell are chasing them. And, for a moment, I think Zane might chase after them, but then he turns back to the mess of a cat on the ground.

Moving to the cat, he kneels down and puts out his hand. “Hello, little one.”

The cat snarls and attacks his hand, latching onto it with its little teeth.

Zane doesn’t even react. He just scoops the cat up with his good hand and cradles the cat against his chest. He looks pleased as can be while it snarls and growls in his grip.

“This little one is coming back with us. We will take care of her, and she’ll be our best friend in no time at all.”

I look between the blood rolling down his hand and his face with a doubtful expression. “Maybe it’d be better to leave it here…”

He gives me a funny look. “If we leave her here, she could be hurt. With us, she’ll be safe.” Then he heads for the car.

There is no way that angry ball of fur is ever going to be our best friend, but I decide to keep that thought to myself. I’m used to wild animals, who will give you respect but not love, so maybe he knows better than me.

He stops and picks up a small, clean-ish box from the ground and gets into the car. Pulling out the first aid kit, I check that Dahlia is breathing normally, then quickly clean up her wound and bandage it. Her having lost consciousness isn’t a good thing, but all other signs point to the fact that she’ll be okay.

I climb into my seat, then watch Zane deposit the angry ball of fur into the box by his feet before closing the top. At last, the doors to the car are closed, silencing some of the chaos from outside.

I release a slow breath and open the first aid kit once more. It’s funny. He’s got small cuts and bruises on his face, and probably on the rest of him, from all the fighting, but his worst injuries are definitely from the cat.

“Let me see your hand,” I say. “Cat bites can get pretty nasty.”

He sets his hand in my lap, and I get to work cleaning out his wound, then bind it up the best I can. When I’m done, I return the first aid kit to the glove box, grateful that Evander’s people had pointed out that there was one in every car.

“We’ll need to get you looked at by the doctors when we get back,” I say, turning his hand over in my lap.

“I will be fine.”

My head jerks up at the low, aroused sound of his voice. I barely have a moment to think before his lips descend on mine, and we’re kissing. The world fades away, leaving nothing but him and me behind.

He pulls me into my lap until I’m straddling him. With firm hands, he jerks me down, so that I’m rubbing on top of his obvious erection. A shudder rolls through me, and I rub harder, until it’s hard to catch my breath. He starts kissing and sucking his way down my neck when the thought occurs to me that he might be marking me.

“Shit,” I mutter and go to climb off, but he holds me firmly in place.

“What’s wrong?”

“When we get back, I’m already going to smell like you you can’t mark me too. The guys will lose their minds.”

“So, let them. Eventually, they will have to accept that I am your mate.”

It’s hard to argue when I’m staring into his perfect baby blues, so I close my eyes. “Eventually, but not yet.”

He groans and releases me, and very slowly, I climb off.

It takes me a minute to calm myself enough to buckle up and put the car in reverse. “Right now, we just have to focus on getting home safely and getting Dahlia taken care of. We can talk about everything else later.”

“Yes, Samantha, but we will finish this later,” he says, and something about his words sends goosebumps dancing across my flesh.