Tempting Evil (Riley Jenson Guardian 3)

My fingers touched the cold surface of another table. As I edged around it, the creature leapt. Once again I spun and kicked, spraying blood through the air in the process. Claws skittered against the tiles, drawing closer. The young were drawn by the scent of blood more than the need to help their parents.

My blow caught the creature in the gut, the force of it reverberating up my leg. It sent the creature crashing into another table and had to have left a huge dent in the surface. It shook its head and rose to its feet, then launched itself through the air again. I quickly sidestepped. The creature tried to twist around, but its claws found no purchase against the tiled surface and it slid right on by. Giving me the chance I needed to look quickly around.

The young were muted flecks of red huddled in the far left corner of the room. Beyond them was what appeared to be a large fissure in the concrete walls. The exit stood to my right and thankfully, didn't appear print- or key-coded. As the creature picked itself up and twisted around, I ran like hell for the door and hauled it open.

Quinn, I found the exit. Get your butt over here.

He didn't answer, but I'd barely taken a breath when his hand hit my shoulder, sending me flying as he slammed the door shut behind us. There was a thump on the other side, as if a body had hit it. Hard. But the handle didn't slid downward. Maybe creatures who held no real substance couldn't open doors - though they sure as hell could cause real enough damage to flesh.

Claws might be good against flesh, concrete, and rock but they are of little use against steel. His hand wrapped warmly against my upper arm. Your leg bleeds profusely.

It's not deep, and we can't afford any more delays. The words were absent as I climbed to my feet and looked around. We were in a corridor lined with doors. Given there were no aromas other than age riding the air, it was pretty safe to guess they were empty. At the end of a corridor was another containment door, but this wasn't like the others we'd passed so far. It was more the type seen in movies about ships and subs. It had a wheel lock in the center that had to be turned to open or close. As far as I knew, doors like those had been phased out decades ago, which lent weight to Quinn's earlier statement that this area was far older than the cartel's usage of it.

I am a vampire. Though Quinn's mind-voice was soft, it held a note of censure. I blinked, taking a moment to realize he was answering my earlier statement. I control my base needs, but I am not made of steel, and I cannot forever ignore such a delicious odor.

Call me a dolt, but I'd actually forgotten the blood would call him. I shifted shape immediately, then motioned him forward. And here I was thinking you only took blood while making love.

For blood as sweetly addictive as yours, I would make an exception. His gaze briefly met mine. I have done so in the past, remember.

Images of him licking the wound on my wrist came to mind, and desire skittered across my skin. Who'd have thought the touch of a vampire's tongue on a non-intimate place such as a wrist had the power to make a woman orgasm like that?

Not me. And it was an experience I wouldn't mind repeating - just not here, not now.

No. He grasped the wheel and spun it. There was a soft click and the door opened, smooth as butter. But later, most certainly.

You're awfully certain there is going to be a 'later'.

If there's one thing I know about werewolves, it's that they are easily addicted to good sex. The fact of the matter is, I give good sex.

I gave a mental snort. And a whole lot of arrogance.

After over a thousand years of refining my technique, I have a right to the arrogance.

It's just a shame that a thousand years of living didn't also teach you tolerance of other race's beliefs and practices.

Amusement ran through my mind, as warm as a summer breeze and just as enticing. I left the door wide open for that jibe.

Yeah, he had. So why was he amused rather than annoyed? That didn't run with what I'd seen of him so far - though, I guess I hadn't seen a whole lot of the real Quinn. Just the "gotta avenge my friend at all costs" Quinn.

And that one was hard enough to resist. I'd be putty in his hands if he actually turned on the charm for a change.

Somehow, I'm doubting that.

His voice was wry and I grinned as I edged around the corner. More darkness, corridors, and labs. Only this time, the air was warm, and heavily layered with scents that were either human, organic, or chemical in origin. And accompanying the scents, voices - men and women chatting softly. There appeared to be no concern that the darkness was anything more than a simple blackout, which was good. It meant they wouldn't be as watchful as they should be.

A soft noise caught my attention. I looked at the left-hand corridor, zoning out the drone of conversation and concentrating on the noise coming only from that corridor. Again I heard it, clearer this time - the whimper of a child.

Dia's kid. Had to be.

I padded into the darkness, my bare feet making little noise on the cold white tiles.

How many hearts beat in the lab directly in front?

He paused, then said, Three, not including the child.

Can you hold the adults, make them see nothing, while I rescue the kid?

Doing so as I speak. Amusement filled his voice as he added, Not that I think they'd be taking much notice of anything else but each other at the moment anyway.