Kissing Sin (Riley Jenson Guardian 2)

"Bolt this end closed. They often do, as they tend to enter mainly from the other end."

I did as he suggested, then ran down the far end and cracked open the smaller door. The boundary fence wasn't that far away, but lights still swept it, and the wail of the siren was almost lost to the grating howl of those bearlike creatures. The hunt was well and truly on. If we didn't get out of here soon, we wouldn't get out at all.

I looked behind me. Men gathered in the shadows.

When the stranger had freed the last of them, he joined me by the door. He still smelled of hay and horse and excrement, but this time it was entwined in the musky, enticing scent of man.

"Not good," he muttered, peering out over my head.

"The main gate is barred and guarded. I think the only way out is over that fence."

He glanced down at me. "Can a wolf jump that high when she's wounded?"

"I'd jump the moon if that's what it took to get out of this place."

His sudden grin was warm, crinkling the corners of his velvet eyes. "That I believe. But for safety's sake, you'd better mount me. I'd hate to see my savior left behind."

I frowned. "You sure you can leap that high with a rider?"

"No probs, sweetheart. Trust me."

I glanced at the fence and nodded. He was right. While the wounds on my side and leg weren't particularly painful, they were still weeping, and the strength in my leg might give way at a vital moment. And there was no way in hell I was going to risk being left behind. "Let's get those doors open."

We did. When the stranger had shifted back into horse form, I grabbed a handful of mane and pulled myself aboard. Once settled on his back, I twisted around. "Good luck, everyone."

Horses snorted softly in response. I took a deep breath, clenched my legs against the stallion's belly, then said, "Ready."

He sprang forward, all raw muscle and power. We sped down the road, arrowing toward the brightly lit fence, the wind a howl that snapped at my hair and stung my skin with ice.

The clatter of hooves on stone sang through the night. A shout went up from the left of us. Pain flicked my ear, and I jerked away, catching sight of sparks as something hit the road. Warmth began to trickle down my neck.

"They're shooting at us," I yelled. "Faster."

He surged forward. Behind us, a horse screamed. I looked over my shoulder, saw a bay go down, half his head missing. Fear knotted my stomach. They'd rather see us dead than have us escape.

The fence loomed. I closed my eyes and held on tight as the stallion gathered himself, then rose. The sensation of flying seemed to go on and on, then we hit the ground with enough force to jar every bone in my body and almost dislodge me.

But we were over the damn fence.

Now all we had to do was shake any pursuers, and find out where the hell we were. could smell was blood.

Blood that was thick and ripe.

Blood that plastered my body, itching at my skin.

I stirred, groaning softly as I rolled onto my back. Other sensations began to creep through the fog encasing my mind. The chill of the stones that pressed against my spine. The gentle patter of moisture against bare skin. The stench of rubbish left sitting too long in the sun. And underneath it all, the aroma of raw meat.

It was a scent that filled me with foreboding, though why I had no idea.

I forced my eyes open. A concrete wall loomed ominously above me, seeming to lean inward, as if ready to fall. There were no windows in that wall, and no lights anywhere near it. For a moment I thought I was in a prison of some kind, until I remembered the rain and saw that the concrete bled into the cloud-covered night sky.

Though there was no moon visible, I didn't need to see it to know where we were in the lunar cycle. While it might be true that just as many vampire genes flowed through my bloodstream as werewolf, I was still very sensitive to the moon's presence. The full moon had passed three days ago.

Last I remembered, the full moon phase had only just begun. Somewhere along the line, I'd lost eight days.

I frowned, staring up at the wall, trying to get my bearings, trying to remember how I'd gotten here. How I'd managed to become naked and unconscious in the cold night.

No memories rose from the fog. The only thing I was certain of was the fact that something bad had happened. Something that had stolen my memory and covered me in blood.