A suicide mission, of course. Vampires burned ever so quickly. But…
He lifted the binoculars to his eyes and watched her. She was going inside. Donning a firefighter’s coat and mask, as if those items would help her. The trap he’d left burned particularly hot. He’d intended for the whole place to be destroyed.
He’d also aimed to take out any pesky wolves who’d come snooping. He wasn’t interested in wolves. They were just beasts. Dogs that were in the way.
Vampires interested him.
Jane interested him. After all, she was his assignment. She had been, for quite some time. Longer than she could possibly realize.
The end. Oh, the stories that were spreading about her. Was she truly the one the vampires sought? He wasn’t so sure, not yet.
Especially since she was doing dumbass shit like running into a fire.
“Should have let him burn,” he muttered. “Fire hurts like a bitch when it bites you.”
What would Jane look like when she came out of the fire? No longer so beautiful. No longer so perfect.
If she even came out…
Love. People were always spouting about how they’d risk everything for love. In Jane’s case, it seemed that she truly might just do that.
Risk her life.
For a monster.
Pity. He hadn’t realized she was insane. Maybe the vampire transformation had done that to her? Pushed her over an edge? And now Jane couldn’t control herself.
She had a death wish.
Wish granted, Jane. Wish fucking granted.
Chapter Five
She nearly tripped over Paris. The guy was on the stairs, slumped down, choking on the smoke and flames.
Jane grabbed him and shook the werewolf, hard. You were supposed to help with the rescue. Not become someone else I had to haul out of here! “Paris!”
His eyes were closed.
And his head was bleeding—again. Or maybe it had never stopped bleeding.
She tightened her grip on him and hauled the guy up the stairs. There wasn’t any time to go back outside. She could already hear the groans and creaks above her. The last thing she wanted was to waste time getting Paris out and then trying to run back into the building—that could be time that Aidan didn’t have.
So she made it to the top of the stairs. There was only one door up there, one apartment from the look of things. The door to that apartment swung open. Had the firefighters bashed it in before they had to retreat? Maybe. Probably.
Smoke rises and I can barely see anything.
Jane went into that apartment and dragged Paris with her. Where are you, Aidan? Where?
Paris had said they were near the back bedroom when everything went to hell, right? So she kept walking straight ahead. The flames were on the walls, rolling above her and—
Paris was screaming. She looked back and saw that flames were on his legs. Oh, hell. She swatted her hands at them, trying to put the flames out. Then she focused on Paris, staring at him through the thin frame of the mask she wore.
His grim expression said what she was thinking.
We’re both going to die in here.
No, they weren’t. Because she’d just spotted an open window. Well, open in the sense that the glass had been blown out of it by the fire. Flames were everywhere. She was pretty much afraid to breathe, worried the heat would singe her lungs and she’d be DRT. A phrase she’d heard firefighters toss around before.
Dead right there.
She inched closer to that window. Flames started to eat at Paris’s legs once again. I’m sorry. She squeezed her eyes shut and then threw him toward the window. He’d survived one fall…surely he’d survive another? Please survive another.
Paris never made a sound as his body hurtled to the street below.
Now she just had to get Aidan and get him out of there. Once Aidan was clear of the building, he’d be able to give Paris his blood and heal any injuries that the other werewolf had just sustained. That wonderful magical werewolf alpha blood was a cure-all.
I just have to find Aidan and get him out.
She turned back toward what she thought had been the hallway. She shuffled forward and saw flames up ahead, thick, greedy flames on the floor of that hallway and—
The flames are Aidan.
For an instant, the world stopped. It just stopped. Because he was burning, right in front of her.
“No!” Jane screamed the cry and heat singed her lungs. She ran forward, and her gloved fingers reached Aidan. He was burning so much—was he even alive? How could he be? The flames were eating at him, covering his back and his arms and—
Aidan.
She grabbed him with one hand and threw him toward the wall—but the wall gave way and Aidan flew right through it. He hurtled down to the street below.
At least he’s out of the building. His wounds would be terrible, but he’d heal. He had to heal.