Declan called on his power, loving the sizzle of energy that ran along his arms. It rested in the palm of his hand, and he exhaled. The smell of burned flesh infiltrated his nostrils and he growled. It was wolf, no doubt Ransome.
He squared his shoulders and moved forward, his eyes on the glow at the end of the hall. He heard raised voices.
“What havoc have you brought to this house?” It was male.
A groan sounded softly and his insides turned to ice. Ana.
The floor trembled and a glass case on the wall exploded, showering its contents all over the floor. Declan ran the last few steps and halted, his gaze cold as he surveyed the scene before him.
Four vampires stood to his left. They glanced up at him in surprise. At their feet lay Ransome, his pallor gray, his eyes shot through with blood. Several wounds bled through his leather jacket and as he struggled to right himself, the vampire nearest him gave him the boots. It was a wicked blow that sent the werewolf flying.
Ana’s eyes met Declan’s and the fury that laced hers a deeper shade of blue was impressive. She was pissed.
A tall, pale vampire held her.
The bastard gave him a once-over and sneered as he spat at Ana, “I knew it was only a matter of time until you followed the path of your brother.”
Declan would have moved forward but the sharp knife the vampire held at Ana’s throat stopped him cold. Small rivulets of blood rolled down her skin. She’d already been cut.
The vampire laughed, his whole body shaking from the joy he took in Ana’s pain. “No matter,” he said to her, “we won’t make the same mistake we did with Jean-Charles. Once we destroy this”—the vampire nodded toward Declan—“abomination, we will cut your head from your body and dump your remains in the Mississippi.”
He pressed the knife in and she hissed, her eyes never leaving Declan’s. Her hands clutched a small package of emerald silk.
“Take your hands off her.” Declan spoke slowly, enunciating his words carefully as he took a step forward.
“Do not speak to me.” The vampire dismissed Declan as if he posed no more of a threat than a pesky fly, or human.
Totally wrong fucking thing to do.
Declan’s arm flew out and with it, an incredible surge of energy. It engulfed the four vampires who watched at his left, their countenances almost bored. He snarled as surprise flickered across their stony features.
Two of them were knocked back so hard into the wall that the entire room shook from the force of it. The others shrieked—enraged—and scrambled for footing as they turned toward him, fangs at the ready.
Bring it on, assholes.
Ransome rolled over and took the nearest one down, his body a blur as he shifted into his animal form. Declan saw Ana struggle and swore as the vampire who held her clocked her upside the head. She staggered from the force of it, falling to the ground.
The remaining vampire attacked Declan and he tore his gaze from Ana as he focused on the bastard. The vampire was strong as hell, most likely an ancient, but Declan lunged forward, his fangs sinking deep as he tore at its throat.
The vampire roared in pain and head butted him in an effort to break his hold. The dagger went flying, but no matter. The power inside him tripled, a mix of magick, vamp juice, and sheer determination. He grabbed hold of the vamp’s neck and twisted as hard as he could while they rolled upon the floor. With a mighty heave, Declan snapped his neck and threw the body to the side.
He was up on his feet in an instant, just in time for his world to stop cold. Blue eyes stared into his, large round pools of regret. Everything faded into the background, save his woman.
The vampire was locked onto her jugular and it was obvious his intent was to kill. Each draw he took from Ana reverberated deep in Declan’s soul.
“No!”
The savage cry erupted, torn from his chest. Ana struggled against the vampire who held her and managed to toss her emerald prize in the air. “Take this and run!” she shouted hoarsely as she tried to twist away from her tormentor.
He watched the bag as it floated in a perfect arc. It moved slowly. Time had stopped. Confusion reigned.
Then a hand slid through, parting reality in a shower of light.
“Oh my, it’s been a while since I’ve played catch.” A short, round, balding man appeared from nowhere and smiled widely at everyone. Bill. He tossed the silken bag into the air once more and moved to the side, speaking behind him. “Yes, almost forgot.”
A tall, blond man appeared, sliding into view in the same way Bill had just done. His strange golden/black eyes were flat as he glared at the vampire who held Ana.
It was Azaiel, the fallen. “I suggest you remove your hands from the lady, Alistair.”