Bound by Darkness - Alexandra Ivy [58]
“Yes.” She grimaced. “And it gets worse.”
There was something worse than zombies?
Fantastic.
“I’m listening.”
“The magic-user was a cur.”
Ariyal abruptly recalled the scent of cur that he’d noticed earlier. Obviously he should have paid more attention.
But then again, who had ever heard of a cur/mage?
Or was it mage/cur?
“I didn’t know that was possible,” he muttered.
“Not only possible, but a pain in the ass.”
He hid his smile at her peeved tone. Jaelyn was accustomed to being the winner. No matter who or what her opponent might be.
Now she was clearly irked that the cur had escaped, although the blood on her hand revealed she’d done serious injury to the dog.
“Is there more?” he prompted.
“He’s not alone.”
He snorted. It just got better and better.
“Tearloch?”
She shook her head. “No, at least one other cur and a human witch.” She absently stroked the handle of her shotgun. Ariyal suspected it was an unconscious gesture that offered her comfort. He suppressed a groan, easily imaging those slender fingers stroking something far more interesting. “There’s also a creature who is capable of masking his scent,” she confessed, unaware of his erotic fantasies.
He grimly forced his thoughts away from his distracting urge to press her against the tree and ease the need that pulsed just below the surface whenever she was near. His life was in enough danger without adding sex with a feral vampire.
Not that he wouldn’t... .
He hissed in frustration, crushing the thought before it could form.
“Another magic-user?” he rasped.
She shrugged. “My guess would be a demon, perhaps even a vampire.”
“A Hunter?”
“I don’t know.” Concern flickered in the indigo eyes. “That’s what troubles me.”
Ariyal tilted back his head to draw in a deep breath, sorting through the various scents that filled the meadow.
A family of sprites that was scurrying out of a nearby cavern and through the cornfields in obvious panic. A pack of hellhounds hunting a deer.
And more distant, the stench of curs as well as the strangely muted scent that was troubling Jaelyn.
All rushing away to leave them alone and isolated in the meadow.
Alone?
His eyes snapped open in surprise.
“Where’s the gargoyle?”
She glanced back at the line of trees, a frown marring her brow.
“He insisted on following the trail of the cur while I returned here.”
Ariyal snorted, not sharing his companion’s regret at Levet’s absence.
“It’s about time he made himself useful.”
“Don’t underestimate him. He has ...” She paused, considering her words, turning back with a faint smile. “Unexpected talents.”
“His talent is to drive a rational man over the edge.”
“No doubt it’s all that testosterone.” Her smile widened as she shifted to place an arm around his waist and tugged his free arm over her shoulders. “It rots the brain.”
Ariyal stiffened as his body reacted to her touch with predictable eagerness, even as his pride violently rebelled at her imitation of a vampire crutch.
It was one thing to offer him sympathy for his injuries.
It was quite another to treat him as if he was a damned invalid.
Not after Morgana le Fey had taken such gruesome delight in tormenting him when he was injured and at his most vulnerable.
“As much as I want to be in your arms, poppet, I hardly think this is the time or the place,” he drawled.
She made a sound of impatience. “We have to find shelter until you can heal.”
He pulled from her grasp, ignoring the weakness that was only growing worse as his injuries continued to bleed.
“ No.”
“No?”
“I’m not going to have you carrying me around like I’m some sort of feeble dew fairy.”
She slapped her hands on her hips. “Because I’m a woman and you’re a big, tough, virile man?”
“Because I will never be at the mercy of anyone. Not again.”
His stark words rang through the meadow, and just for a second Jaelyn’s expression softened with understanding. This female knew precisely how it felt to be helpless and abused.
“Fine.” She gave in without an argument. A rare and wonderful occurrence. “Then what’s your plan?”
Plan? He swallowed his urge