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But fate would make her watch him.
* * *
“It’s done?” Grim asked as his hunter stalked into the room.
A smile stretched the hunter’s lips. Slow. Satisfied. “Both of them are bleeding out now. With the sun up, they’ll never get out of that damn metal prison.”
He nodded. “Good.” Fire had never been the best way to go. He saw that now. Blood, the slow drain, the agony of knowing what would come and being helpless to stop it?—
As I had been helpless.
—that was the end for his enemies.
Grim turned away and stalked to his bed. The dancer lay there. Still alive, but low on blood. He’d let her keep living a while longer. He’d rather enjoyed her. “Which one do you think will die first?” Not that it mattered. But the one left behind would have the greater torment. If there was an attachment there, and his vamps had told him that the woman and Chase were close.
Lovers.
The body’s needs and desires could make the soul weak.
“The bitch will go first.”
Anger there. His brows drew together. “Did something to piss you off, did she?” Not surprising. Dee had earned her reputation for a reason.
In another life, he might have admired her.
In this life, he just needed her dead.
“She took the hardest hits. She’ll die long before dusk. They both will.”
They’d better.
“Do you still feel him?” his perfect hunter asked.
Him. Chase. The guy Leo had turned years before. Grim closed his eyes. He tried to focus and find the ungrateful bastard but?—
Nothing. “Maybe he’s already dead.” Maybe. But the truth was that he hadn’t felt a connection to Chase since the Taken had traded with the warlock.
So Chase could still be alive, or he could be dead. Again.
He focused on the figure in the bed. The dancer was awake. She’d been awake the whole time they talked, but she’d kept her eyes closed. Like a good little girl, pretending to sleep.
Maybe because she didn’t want to see him and his hunter. Maybe she wanted to pretend she wasn’t involved in this.
Wrong.
His tongue slipped over the edge of his sharp teeth.
The dancer wasn’t getting out of his den alive, but maybe he’d Take her. Maybe.
* * *
She drank greedily. desperate, hungry, needing the blood that spilled onto her tongue. More. More.
Dee felt the ice rising in her body. The numbing cold, and she fought it, drinking as much of the warm liquid as she could.
Drinking.
Her eyes opened when the blood flow began to ease, and she squinted, staring at the bright light. The broken glass.
