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Tess dashed out to cross the street. When she looked back at Ben's building again, the man on the balcony was climbing onto the railing, two more coming out behind him. The one in the lead swung his legs over the edge and dropped, as neatly as a cat, down onto the lawn. He started running up behind her, moving too fast. As if his speed had rendered her own to slow motion, her feet as sluggish as if they' d been mired in quicksand.
Tess hugged Harvard close to her chest and ran up onto the other sidewalk, darting between the cars parked at the curb. She glanced once more behind her, only to find that her pursuer was gone. She knew hope for a brief fraction of a second.
Because when she looked forward again, she saw that he was somehow, suddenly there, less than five paces in front of her, blocking her path. How could he have gotten there so fast? She hadn't even seen him move, hadn't heard his feet on the pavement.
He cocked his large head at her and sniffed at the air like an animal. He--or rather it, because whatever this was, it was far from human--began to chuckle low under its breath.
Tess backed up, moving woodenly, disbelieving. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. This was some kind of sick joke. It was impossible.
"No." She stepped back and back, shaking her head in denial.
The big man started moving then, coming toward her. Tess's heart stuttered into a panicked beat, her every instinct clanging on high alert. She pivoted on her heel and bolted--
Just as another beastly-looking man came between the cars and hemmed her in.
"Hello, pretty," he said in a voice that was all gravel and malice.
In the pale wash of streetlight overhead, Tess's gaze locked on the guy's open mouth. His lips peeled back from his teeth in a thick hiss, revealing a huge pair of fangs.
Tess dropped the dog from her limp grasp and sent a terrified scream shooting high up into the night sky.
"Hang a left up here," Dante said to Tegan from the passenger seat of the Range Rover. Chase sat in back like he was awaiting his execution, an anticipation that Dante was about to prolong a bit more. "Let' s swing through Southie before we head for the compound."
Tegan gave a grim nod, then turned the vehicle at the light. "You got a feeling the dealer might be home?"
"I don't know. Worth a look, though."
Dante rubbed at a cold spot that had settled behind his sternum, a strange void that was squeezing his lungs, making it hard to breathe. The sensation was more visceral than physical, a hard tweaking of his instincts that put his senses on full alert. He hit the window control next to him, watching the dark glass slide open as he inhaled the cold night air.
"Everything cool?" Tegan asked, his deep voice drifting over from across the dim cockpit of the SUV. "You heading for a repeat of what happened earlier?"
"No." Dante gave a vague shake of his head, still staring out the open window, watching the blur of lights and traffic as the downtown buildings fell behind them and the old neighborhoods of South Boston came into view. "No, this is... something different."
The damn knot of cold in his chest was boring deeper, becoming glacial even as his palms began to sweat. His stomach clenched. Adrenaline dumped into his veins in a sudden, jolting flood.
What the hell?
It was fear running through him, he realized. Shell-shocked terror. Not his own, but someone else's.
Oh, Jesus.
"Stop the car."
It was Tess's fear he was feeling. Her horror reaching out to him via the blood connection they shared. She was in danger out there. Mortal danger.
"Tegan, stop the fucking car!"
The warrior hit the brakes and dragged the steering wheel hard to the right, coolly skidding the Rover onto the berm. They weren't too far from Ben Sullivan's apartment; his building could be no more than half a dozen blocks' distance--twice that if they had to navigate the maze of one-way streets and traffic lights between here and there.
Dante threw open the passenger door and jumped out onto the pavement. He dragged air into his lungs, praying he could get a tack on Tess's scent.
There it was.
He locked on to the cinnamon-sweet note braided among the thousand other mingled odors carrying on the chill night breeze. Tess's blood scent was trace, but growing stronger--too much so.
Dante's veins ran cold.
Somewhere, not far from where he stood, Tess was bleeding.
