Circle of Desire (Damask Circle 3)

She took another deep breath, then felt for the edge of the step with her toes. She kept hold of the banister for guidance and repeated the process, moving slowly down.

The chill in the air grew until it felt like she was breathing ice. Her fingers were so cold they ached, and despite the fact that she’d put on extra-thick socks, her toes felt numb.

Or maybe it was just fear, paralyzing her from the extremities up.

She reached the bottom and stopped. Nothing moved. Her breathing rattled across the silence, and the wild beat of her heart echoed in time with it. The vampire and the soul-sucker stood to her left. The shapeshifter was more distant and to her right. There was no sense of evil coming from his direction, just wave after wave of anger and hostility. It didn’t seem to be aimed at her, or even at the duo she chased. It seemed to be aimed at the world in general.

And it was odd that she was getting such a strong impression of a man she hadn’t even met.

Evil stirred, splitting up as it moved forward. She backed away until she hit a wall, her grip on the stake so fierce her knuckles ached.

Air rushed at her from the left. She slashed the stake across the night and felt the slight resistance as the sharp point tore into flesh. The vampire howled but didn’t stop. She dove out of his way, hit the concrete with a grunt, and rolled back to her feet. Tendrils of softly glowing smoke reached for her. She hit it with kinetic energy, momentarily fragmenting it.

The darkness stirred, then lashed out, connecting hard with her chin. The force of the blow sent her sprawling backward. Her back hit the floor, and her breath left in a whoosh of air. For a moment, stars danced in her vision.

Then, the weight of another hit her, pinning her in place. Though gasping for breath and fighting the blackness invading her mind, she still heard the vampire’s snarl. She looked up in time to see the shadows unravel around him. His dead brown eyes were inches from hers and his teeth were extending, dripping blood in expectation of a feed. Tendrils of smoke gathered above him, pulsing red. Excitement, she thought. Need.

With as much force as she could muster, she smacked the heel of her palm into the vamp’s nose. At the same time, she sent a surge of kinetic energy at the vapor, again tearing it apart.

“Bitch!” The vampire’s voice was hoarse, his breath full of dead things.

“Bite me,” she said—and yelped when the bastard did. She stabbed the stake into his side, using kinetic energy to force it deep.

Blue fire flickered, and the smell of burning flesh rent the night. The vampire howled and slashed at her, not with his teeth but with fingernails as sharp as claws. They tore across her face, and she cursed him fluently. Kinetic energy surged, but before she could release her weapon, the vampire was torn from her.

“You all right?”

The voice was rich, husky, and called forth fantasies of long nights and silk sheets. She blinked, wondering where the hell her mind was. “Yeah.”

A hand appeared in front of her eyes. “Then get the hell up, because that thing is coming back.”

The shifter’s fingers were a furnace compared to hers, and he pulled her up with an ease that spoke of strength. He was a warm, solid presence she could feel but not see. A man whose emotions she could taste as easily as she tasted the evil of the other two.

And she had no idea why. Empathy with the living was not one of her talents.

“Thanks.” She pulled her hand from his, and the emotive swirl died a little. But his hostility lingered, mixed with some deeper emotion she couldn’t quite define. Yet it stirred her senses. Made her pulse race.

“Get out of here,” he said. “This place is too dangerous for a woman. I’ll keep the creature occupied.”

“It’s not alone,” she retorted. “And this place is just as dangerous for a man who has no idea he has two opponents rather than one.”

“Listen, lady—”

“No.”

Tendrils of smoke formed behind the shifter’s solid presence, ready to caress and kill. Kat hit the soul-sucker kinetically, dissipating it yet again, then was flung sideways by the shifter.

She flailed her arms, battling to keep her balance, then heard a grunt as the shifter was hit by the vampire. Blue fire flickered across the darkness—evidence that the stake was still buried deep in the vampire’s flesh. So why didn’t he damn well die, like all bad little vampires should?

She dragged the second stake free and clenched it tightly. The two men were slugging it out, the shifter apparently giving as good as he got. But he obviously knew he was up against a vampire, so why didn’t he just grab the stake and thrust it into the bastard’s heart? Surely he had to know it was the best way to stop a bloodsucker? Going toe-to-toe with one generally never ended well—for the attacker, not the vampire. Hell, the only reason he could even hit the vampire was the stake holding it in human form.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and fought the need to move. She didn’t dare attack until the shifter was clear. The stake she held was just as deadly to him as the vampire, and the slightest mistake could prove costly.

The mist began forming again. She swore and slashed it with the stake. The air howled—an inhuman sound that sent a chill down her spine. The vapor disappeared, and the sense of old evil retreated, flowing up the stairs and out the door.

If she didn’t follow it, she’d lose it. But she couldn’t leave the shifter here alone, either. Not when instinct suggested he would not come out of this warehouse alive if she did.

“Back off, shifter, and let me at it,” she said.