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Clinging to the idea that Ethan would be able to escape in one piece, Marcus paused at the butcher block long enough to pull out a chef’s knife. He prayed the damn thing was sharp. Heaven knew he didn’t cook much and couldn’t remember if he’d ever held the thing before—let alone used it on a side of meat.
Marcus took one step toward the kitchen doorway and stopped when a large vampire stepped into the opening, a broad smile spreading across his face.
“Zale,” Marcus growled. That answered his main question far faster than he’d expected. Zale was a loyal foot soldier of the Black Wolf clan. He worshiped its clan head, Minerva, and followed her without question.
Marcus’s only question was why the Black Wolf clan had decided to strike against his family. They might not have seen eye to eye over the centuries, but they’d managed to steer clear of each other.
“Marcus,” Zale said in an almost taunting tone. “Trying to make a run for it?”
“No, just arming myself. You have no business in my lair. Get out now while you still have your life.”
Zale ignored him, looking around the kitchen as he took a step inside. “Where’s that new pet of yours? We were hoping to play with him for a bit before we kill him.” His smile widened when his eyes caught on the open door to the garage.
Marcus lunged at him, swinging the knife at his throat. He would not let Zale or any of the others from his clan anywhere near Ethan.
Zale caught his wrist before the blade could kiss his flesh and he laughed. “You’re gonna have to be faster than that.”
Marcus opened his hand and dropped the knife into the hand waiting at Zale’s stomach. Zale couldn’t release Marcus’s wrist fast enough to back away. Marcus jammed the blade deep into Zale’s gut and then ripped it upward, slicing through sinew and organs. He stopped only when he met the breastplate. Zale gasped and choked on blood, his body frozen in what was likely shock and pain. Jerking the blade free, Marcus finished the job by slicing across his throat, severing critical arteries and the windpipe. Zale would not be healing from those wounds tonight or any night.
With a hard shove, Marcus pushed Zale to the floor where he landed in a blood-spewing, twitching heap.
One down, so fucking many to go.
At least he knew his knife was sharp.
Marcus started to bend down and check Zale for other weapons, but the sound of approaching footsteps had him turning away. He needed to get out of the kitchen and help put some more distance between him and Ethan if his lover was to have a shot at escaping.
In the hall, he was met with another vampire. Bullets peppered his wall, throwing up a bit of drywall as they hit. He dove at the shooter, taking two in the shoulder before reaching him. He hissed in pain but focused on driving the knife into the creature’s heart.
The damn handle was growing slick with blood and his hand was threatening to slip down to the blade. The kitchen knife wasn’t made for this kind of work, but it had saved him twice now, so he couldn’t complain.
As the vampire lay bleeding out from the chest and neck, Marcus grabbed up the gun the vampire had been using. There wasn’t time to check the magazine. The damn thing could have five bullets, or it could have none. He hadn’t been counting when the idiot starting shooting at him.
Pain throbbed in his shoulder, but he was only vaguely aware of it while he tried to figure out how much time had passed since Ethan had disappeared into the garage. Two minutes? Four? He had to be on the road. Bel’s house was less than fifteen minutes away in light traffic. He just needed to keep them busy that long. It would be enough to give Ethan and Bel a head start.
Attackers were swarming on him faster now that he’d reached the main foyer. Two vampires were on him in the blink of an eye. He fired the gun, hitting one in the head, throwing him against the wall, while the other jumped on his back, fangs digging deep into his neck. He screamed and threw the woman off him, but she took a chunk of flesh with her as she flew across the room. He could feel the blood pouring down his throat and soaking into his dress shirt.
Pain exploded across the back of his head, and Marcus found himself on his knees. There was a clatter of noise and he looked down. Both the knife and gun had fallen from his hands, but he couldn’t remember releasing them. Someone had hit him with something. Maybe a hammer. Fuck. His brain felt like it was trying to ooze out of his skull.
