Kiss of Midnight_ A Midnight Breed Novel - Lara Adrian [276]
Temporarily blinded, his skin heating up through his protective clothing and sizzling where the light met his exposed flesh, Dante tracked the Minion with his other senses, all of them heightened as his rage transformed him. Fangs stretched long in his mouth. Pupils narrowed on the other side of his dark lenses.
Launching up into the air, he leaped across the room in one fluid motion, pouncing on Sullivan from behind. The impact took both of them to the floor. Dante gave the Minion no chance to react. He grabbed him by his chin and brow and leaned down so that his sharp fangs brushed the bastard’s ear.
“Yippeekayay, muthafucker.”
With a sharp twist, Dante snapped the Minion’s neck in his hands.
He dropped the limp corpse to the floor, vaguely aware of the acrid smell in the air and the faint sizzle that buzzed in his ears like a swarm of flies. Pain washed over him as he stood up and turned away from the broken window. He heard the heavy pound of boots outside the room, but he could hardly force his eyes to focus on the dark shape that filled the space between the jambs.
“It’s all clear out—holy shit.” Niko’s voice trailed off, and then the warrior was at Dante’s side, ushering him out of the light-washed room at an urgent clip. “Oh, Jesus, D. How long were you exposed?”
Dante shook his head. “Not that long. Bastard knocked out the window.”
“Yeah,” Niko said, his voice oddly grim. “I can see that. We have to get you out of here, man. Come on.”
CHAPTER Thirty-six
Holy. Hell.”
The black-clad warrior in the front seat of the SUV with Tess—Chase, he’d been called—threw open the driver’s-side door and leaped out, just as Dante and another man came running out of the clinic.
But Dante wasn’t so much running as he was stumbling, his body being held up by the warrior helping him out. His head was dropped down against his chest, uncovered, and the front of his fatigues were torn open, exposing the tawny skin of his torso, which glowed a fiery red in the bright light of the morning.
Chase opened the SUV’s back door and helped the other man get Dante inside. Dante’s fangs were long, the sharp points glinting white with each breath he dragged in through his open mouth. His face was contorted in pain, his pupils thin black slits in the middle of bright amber irises. He was fully transformed, the vampire Tess should fear but couldn’t now.
His friends worked fast, their grim silence making Tess’s blood run cold. Chase shut the back door and ran around to the driver’s seat. He hopped in, threw the vehicle into gear, and they were off.
“What happened to him?” she asked anxiously, unable to see blood on Dante or any other indication of injury. “Is he wounded?”
“Exposure,” said the one she didn’t know, his urgent tone tinged with a Slavic accent. “Fucking Crimson dealer busted out a window. Dante had to take the bastard down in direct sunlight.”
“Why?” Tess asked, watching Dante shift on the backseat, feeling his agony and the concern that emanated from both of his grave companions. “Why would he do this? Why would any of you do this?”
With small but determined movements, Dante managed to strip off one of his gloves. He reached out to her from where he lay.
“Tess…”
She took his hand in hers, watching his strong fingers engulf her own. The emotion that traveled through their connection reached deep inside her, a warmth—a knowledge—that stole her breath.
It was love, so profound, so fierce, it rendered her speechless.
“Tess,” he murmured, his voice little more than air. “It was you. Not my death…yours.”
“What?” She squeezed his hand, tears welling in her eyes.
“The visions…It wasn’t me, but you. I couldn’t—” He broke off, inhaling sharply through obvious anguish. “Had to stop it. Couldn’t let you…no matter what.”
Tess’s tears