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He coughed, but he didn’t even move. “See?” he said. “Far more fun.”
“I have towork.”
I got the impression that he smiled at me—even this close I couldn’t tell for sure with the bespelled hood. “And I don’t care—”
I tossed my gun from my right hand—which he still held captive—to my left hand. Aiming for his right thigh—though it would have been impossible to miss from this distance—I flicked the safety off and shot him.
As I feared, his only reaction was delight. “You’re ambidextrous? Your family must be old stock to care so much about your training. Why are you rotting away here—wait, don’t answer that. You probably have some heroic rot and that’s only going to make me lose respect for you.”
I squinted trying to gauge just how bad his wound was. I wasn’t going to risk shooting him in the chest or head. All he’d done so far was grab me a few times and beat the snot out of other supernaturals, but he hadn’t crossed the line and killed anyone—that we knew of.
He was bleeding less than a bullet wound should—heck, he was still standing, so the limb had to be functional. That meant his healing powers—a vampire ability that grew stronger the older they were—had to be insanely powerful.
Just how old is he?
“This is going to be fun.” Ruin said, swapping his grip on my arm.
Move—I need to move away from him!
I flicked the safety of my gun back on—I needed it secure for what I was going to do next, no misfiring allowed—then slammed the gun on his elbow, attempting to use it like a baseball bat.
He dropped my wrist, and I was pretty sure that—after his nonreaction to abullet wound—he was doing it for his own purposes not because I’d actually hurt him.
Sure enough, when I tried to leap backwards, he caught me by my belt and reeled me in. He held me tight, turning me in the process so that my back was pressed flush against his chest.
Can’t see—I can’t see what he’s doing.
Every nerve in my body was on fire as my innate magic whirled trying to predict his movements.
I still had my gun. Ruin had his left arm around my waist, his right hand pressed against my hood on the back of my head so I couldn’t turn my neck, but I knew my gun by heart.
Off went the safety, and—since I knew his healing was top notch—I let myself be nasty.
I twisted my arm, reaching behind me so my gun was pressed into his belly, then squeezed the trigger.
The recoil of my sidearm normally wasn’t noticeable, but I had to unnaturally twist my arm and brace it so I felt it up my entire forearm.
Ruinfinallyreacted, tossing me into the street with a speed and force that made my heart numb.
I hit the pavement shoulder first—I could have tried landing on my feet but I was too concerned about losing control of my loaded pistol, so I took the hit, rolling twice.
My shoulder was on fire. With the extra underclothes I wore to reinforce my uniform—a family practice as we couldn’t risk bleeding everywhere with our poisonous blood—I was pretty sure I hadn’t cut my skin. I was going to have a nasty case of road rash if the burning feeling was any indication, though.
“Fighting dirty, are you?” Ruin’s voice was directly over me.
I flipped the safety of my gun back on—safety first in all occasions—then rolled to the side barely avoiding his foot when he tried to step on me, slapping his boot into the ground with enough force that I felt it through the cement.
Oh yeah. He definitely felt that stomach shot.
At the very least he wasn’t playing around—a kick like that would have hurt, slayer blood or not.
“Grove! Juggernaut—back up!” I shouted as I scrambled to my feet trying to get some distance between me and the vamp.
Ruin matched my pace following me up the street. When I glanced back to look for my squadmates he grabbed me again. This time he held his arm tight against my neck to block off my air supply and he grabbed my gun with his free hand, yanking it from my grasp and flinging it down the street.
“That was unsafe,” I managed to gasp out despite his arm pressed to my throat.
“Considering howbrutalyou are with your sidearm, you are ridiculously concerned about safety,” Ruin said.
