Elena teetered, and he tightened his grip just in time to keep her from hitting the floor. Shit. She’d fainted. Now what? Nikolai scooped her up and looked though the peephole in the front door. An old woman wearing a floral mu-mu hobbled down the sidewalk in front of the house. Abruptly, she turned around as if she could see him through the door and gave a thumbs-up.
“The hottie-totty didn’t waste time?” What the hell did that mean? He stared down at the fragile woman in his arms. Maybe it was customary for her to bring men to her home and the old woman knew it. Like lightning, rage bolted through his body. Surely, the sexual habits of his enemy—his soon to be dead enemy—should be of no relevance to him.
He carried her to the kitchen and grabbed the orange juice. He had to revive her in order to…what? To kill her? But she was painfully human. Humans were not within his jurisdiction.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He set the carton on the counter and shifted her from a cradle hold to where she balanced over his shoulder, then pulled out his phone and read the text from Aleksi. “Confirmation squad departing from local hdq in 5. You have 30 mins max.”
Shit, shit, shit. Fydor’s men were on the way to confirm the execution had been carried out. He had to get out of there. Panic and fear were not part of his composition, yet both took a strangle hold on him as he tried to formulate a plan. They’d never felt the need to confirm his kills before. Why now? And how did they know where he was?
Human still over his shoulder, he paced a small circle. In all honesty, it was a stupid idea to bring her here. Of course Fydor would figure it out. They kept tabs on all of their enemies. Fortunately, since none of them had been here before—at least he hoped they hadn’t—they could not just teleport in unannounced. They’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.
He shifted her higher on his shoulder, and her open-backed hospital gown gapped even further, exposing her entire ass. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear the image from his mind. Maybe he should just return to the fortress with the girl and wait there to kill her. Fydor could even do it himself that way. Something in Nikolai screamed in protest at that idea. Something wasn’t right about this whole thing. His instincts had always been flawless. That’s why he was a superior Slayer. Until he figured this out, he had to keep the girl alive.
And then it happened. The worst possible thing ever. As if confirming his decision to cut and run, a fragment of his traitorous soul traveled down the cord and entwined with hers in a brilliant display of blue and silver sparks.
He shouted his anguish to the empty house in what came out as a primal roar. His soul had confirmed what his body had screamed but his mind had denied from the moment he laid eyes on her: this harmless, weak, pathetic human was his. His true mate—and the fact his soul had crept down the cord to meet hers meant that if the cord were broken, not only would the girl die, he would as well. He’d been ensnared in his own trap.
Chapter Four
A horrible, animalistic growl jerked Elena from oblivion. Her head throbbed, probably from the double-whammy of her low blood sugar coupled with the fact she was being toted caveman-style over the death angel’s shoulder.
From this angle, she could see that she was still in her kitchen and that Nikolai had a truly fine ass. Wait. What an absolutely absurd thought. He growled again. Something had upset him. Oh God. She had passed out. What if Aunt Uza had come back?
“Put me down,” she said.
The pacing stopped so abruptly her chin slammed into his lower back. He stooped and placed her feet on the floor. It was then she remembered she was bare-ass naked for the most part. She pulled the gown closed behind her as he steadied her by the shoulders.
“We have to leave,” he said.
“Nope. Not happening. Kill me here, or not at all. I’ve had enough.”
He jerked the cord, causing her to tumble forward into him. Heat rolled off his chest into her palms, and she resisted the urge to run her hands over the smooth leather of his vest. Wrong, Arcos. Wrong in every way imaginable.
“Listen to me and listen well. You will do two things in the next three minutes. You will drink enough orange juice to make you stable, and then you will find something you can wear in public and not be noticed.” He punctuated his order with another sharp yank on the cord.
Public. That sounded promising. Surely he wouldn’t kill her in public. Still, she wasn’t ready to go so easily. Perhaps he had realized she was not a vampire or whatever it was he thought her to be. Maybe he would let her go.
“Why should I cooperate? What’s in it for me?”