But even as he rushed through the woods, her scent was growing fainter. He kept going, knowing she couldn’t maintain her enhanced speed forever. She’d still be weak from her imprisonment. She’d still—

He burst from the woods. Heard the growl of a motorcycle. Saw Iona, holding tight to the back of some leather-clad bastard. As the breath heaved from him, the motorcycle shot forward, taking Iona away.

Jamie howled.

The driver glanced back, and Jamie could smell his fear. The man was smart to be afraid. Jamie charged after the bike. After them.

“What the hell is that?” The human demanded. “Too big for a dog…”

“It’s a nightmare.” Iona’s soft voice drifted back to Jamie. Stabbed right in his heart like any knife. “Go faster.”

The engine gunned and the bike picked up even more speed as it flew down the narrow road and into the fading night.

For a time, Jamie kept pretty good pace with the fleeing motorcycle. But then the human and Iona vanished.

Vanished…before he could make her realize that the human wasn’t harmless. That he hadn’t been outside of those woods by chance.

He howled again.

Jamie knew that human’s face. He’d seen him before. At Latham’s side.

And now that human…one of Latham’s army…had Iona.

Chapter Five

The wolf wasn’t following them any longer. Iona’s hands tightened around the male. They should be clear, for now.

“Stop,” she told him, raising her voice so it would be heard over the roar of the motorcycle.

He didn’t stop.

Her hands squeezed him, harder. “Stop.”

Did he give a negative shake of his head?

He did. Her gaze searched the road around them. She needed to get to LA, but she didn’t need the human, not any longer.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll kill you.” He wasn’t wearing a helmet so it would be ridiculously easy to dispatch him. One quick toss and he’d be on the ground. One flick of her wrist and his neck would break.

She might not be able to drink from him, but she could certainly kill him easily enough.

“Someone wants to see you,” the human said as his fingers tightened around the motorcycle’s handlebars.

Unease skated through her. “Then he sent the wrong messenger.” She didn’t even hesitate. Iona grabbed the human and threw him off the motorcycle.

Before the bike could crash, she slid forward and took control of the handlebars. This wasn’t like the old hog she’d had all those years before but…

But she was a fast learner. Her thighs curved around the body of the bike and she throttled up the speed as she raced away.

The human could live or die. He wasn’t her concern.

Her coven—her vampires—they were what mattered. She needed to find out what had happened to them.

***

Greg Coleman rose slowly from the pavement. His ankle was broken, thanks to that bitch. And, also thanks to the vamp bitch, blood soaked the right side of his body where the asphalt had ripped his flesh away.

All that blood, permeating the air, and she hadn’t even stopped for a sip. He yanked out his phone. The screen was cracked, but he still managed to make his call.

“You were right,” he said when the boss picked up. “She didn’t so much as make a move toward my throat.”

A growl rumbled over the line then… “Where is she?”

“Driving fast and hot for LA.” That was what she’d told him, anyway. When she’d rushed out of those woods—nearly scaring the shit out of him because he hadn’t been ready for her; hell, he’d been about to go in those woods and scout for her—the vampire had said that she had to get to LA.

He’d told her to hop on the bike. When she had…holy fuck, talk about perfect luck.

“She’s alone,” he said into his phone as he tried to take a few steps down the road. Every step sent pain pulsing from his ankle. “Probably heading there to see if she can find any of her coven.” Not that there were any vamps for her to find there. Well, not any who would be on her side.

Greg stopped walking, sucked in breath, and said, “It looks like she lost the werewolf, so she should be easy pickings for you.”

“Yes…”

A twig snapped behind Greg. He whirled around and his ankle gave out, sending him falling right back down. His phone slipped away from him, smacked the pavement once more, and landed just out of his reach.

“Fuck.” He clenched his teeth and tried to shove toward that phone. “I need transport,” he shouted, hoping the boss would hear him. “Follow my GPS and come get me—shit!”

A wolf jumped out of the darkness. Big, black, and with sharp green eyes that promised death. One of the wolf’s front paws slammed down onto the phone.

Greg tried to scramble back. He had a gun full of silver bullets…in the saddlebag on his bike. Fuck, fuck, fuck! “Stay away from me!”

The wolf stalked closer. It was the same wolf that had followed Iona from the woods. That beast had been hunting them, had come all this way?

The wolf’s sides heaved. Saliva dripped from its mouth and it kept advancing toward him.

Greg nearly pissed his pants. He’d never had werewolves come at him before. He was part of Latham’s team. The pack. Latham’s wolves attacked others, not him. Never him.

“Don’t!” Greg lifted his hands, trying to cover his face.

The wolf’s claws sliced into his left arm. Blood flowed, too quickly.

“Stop!” Greg screamed as he tried to fight the wolf.

The wolf didn’t stop. Its eyes glinted. The beast barred its teeth and that green stare locked on Greg’s throat. Death. Greg saw the promise in that gaze.

Only he wasn’t ready to die. And maybe…maybe he didn’t have to.

“You want the woman?” Greg threw out and tried not to whimper at the pain from his arm…his ankle…his whole body.

The wolf seemed to hesitate.

“She’s heading for LA.” Who knew how long it would take for her to arrive? “She’s going after her old coven.” Greg forced a laugh. “Doesn’t realize it, does she? The vamps still left from that coven—just a handful of ‘em—they were the ones who set her up with Latham. They were the ones who lit that whole compound up in LA. They didn’t want bagged blood and peace with humans.”

So he’d been told. He knew nothing first-hand, but he was ready to trade every whisper and bit of gossip that he’d ever heard for a chance to live a little while longer.

“They’ll find her. They’ll trick her. They’ll…” Greg’s breath choked out as fear shuddered through him. The wolf wasn’t backing off. “They’ll take her head—or they’ll just give her right back to—to Latham!”

The wolf attacked. His razor-sharp teeth locked on Greg’s throat.

“Please!” Greg begged. He could feel the tears pouring down his cheeks. “Let me go…Save her. Hurry…and she could live!” Total lie. That bitch’s death was already set.

But the wolf didn’t know that, and his teeth lifted away from Greg’s throat. The fool pulled back. Turned away. Rushed back into the woods.

And then the beast ran away to play the hero.

***

Nothing remained. The heavy stone walls that had been erected around the perimeter of Iona’s home in LA still stood firm, but inside of those walls…

Nothing.

Blackened earth. No buildings. No people. Just…nothing.

A big FOR SALE sign hung on the front gate, swaying a bit in the breeze. The sign groaned as it rubbed against the iron gate. Iona stood about fifteen feet away from the gate, inside those cold stone walls, lost in the middle of the one place she’d always felt truly belonged to her, and she refused to cry.

She could almost feel the pain lingering in the air around her. When she closed her eyes, the screams whispered through her mind. Whispered—then burned.

As her friends had burned. Her family.

She’d transformed some of the coven herself. Found the rare few that she’d thought could handle the vampire world. They’d turned others. The coven had grown.

It was all gone now. Ashes.

Her father had wanted to burn her to ashes. Fire was such a good way to kill a vampire.

Her gaze fell to the blackened ground. She’d driven for so long that night had descended on her once more, a black shroud to cover her beloved home.

“Iona.”

At first, she thought the call was just a memory. Then she looked up, and, there, just beyond the front gate, she saw Michael staring at her.

He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. She felt as if she had.

Michael. Michael Monroe. The breath rushed from her. One of her coven!

She hadn’t transformed him. Another member of the coven—Christine—had brought him over. Christine had found Michael, broken and bloody, the victim of a hit and run car accident. He’d begged Christine for help.

The gate groaned louder as Michael opened the metal bars that lined the entrance. Iona hadn’t bothered opening the gate. She’d just leapt over the stone wall.

If Michael had known just what sort of help Christine truly offered, would he still have begged? Or would he have chosen death? Iona had always wondered…

“You should be dead,” Michael said, shaking his head as he advanced on her. “All this time…we thought you were dead.”

She kept her hands at her sides. Refused to let hope fill her. He was alive, and he’d just said…we. Others must have survived, too.

But…but she didn’t let the hope take over. Hope had been crushed too many times. “What happened here?”

“Latham,” Michael bit off the name of the werewolf at the top of Iona’s most-hated list. “When you left us, he came in with his wolves. They attacked during the day and burned the place around us.”

Her eyes narrowed. There should have been safeguards in place. Specific vampires and bodyguard humans who protected the area during the day while the vamp coven was more vulnerable. The compound had been set up with security systems, dozens of alarms. The wolves should never have been able to sneak inside and attack.

“How did you escape?” Iona asked him.

But he just shook his head. “I can’t believe…I’m so glad to see you!” Then he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her. He smelled of fresh blood.

Michael had been out hunting. Had his prey been humans? Werewolves?

Her hands touched lightly on his shoulders. “How did you escape?” Iona asked him again. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Something was off, something felt—

A low growl drifted in the air. Iona swallowed.

Michael lifted his head. Pulled back a bit so he could stare down at her. “I didn’t escape.” He was smiling now. Flashing his fangs. He must have heard the growl, too. Like her, he knew the sound for exactly what it was.

The sound of a werewolf. After all, that deep, rumbling growl was pretty unmistakable. A werewolf was closing in on them.

“I killed the human guards,” Michael told her. He was proud. Bragging? “I made sure that the vamps on patrol were given drugged blood. Then I just walked away and let the werewolves have their fun.”

Fury had her trembling and more than ready to rip off his head. “Christine saved you!”

He shrugged. “Then she got in my way. Tried to get me to be a good, fuckin’ little vamp who followed the rules.” He shook his head and pulled a stake from his coat. “I’m not the following type.”

The wolf was behind him, racing with his giant jaws parted and his eyes trained on the prey that waited.

Michael pressed the tip of his wooden stake over her chest. “I’m guessing all that time, frozen like the dead, slowed you down, huh?” His smile widened. “I’m glad I get to be the one to send you to hell.”

She snatched the stake from him, and, before he could even have a chance to fight—he deserved no chance—Iona shoved that stake deep into his heart. “You guessed wrong.”

His lips parted. His eyes stared at her in horrified surprise.

“No time to beg this go around,” she said. “You’re dead.” Then she walked away while his body fell to the blackened earth.

The wolf was charging right at her. Iona braced her legs to face him.

But the beast started to change. Bones crunched and snapped, and the fur vanished from his body. Golden flesh emerged. Flesh she knew. A face she knew. It would be impossible to ever forget Jamie’s hard, dangerous features.

“I was…coming to save you…” The words were raspy and grating as his paws became hands that sank into the earth.

Her head tilted at she studied him. “I didn’t need saving.”

Jamie looked up at her. His gaze blazed. “That vamp’s not the only one after you.”

No, she didn’t think that he was. She wasn’t that foolish.

“A few other vamps were helping him, and they’re—”

“Here,” she finished with a nod because she’d caught their scents, too. They were just beyond the wall, waiting.

Maybe Michael had been their leader, so they’d let him try for first blood. Would they attack now that they realized she wasn’t weak? Would they be afraid—or would they try killing her, too?

“If they’re smart, they’ll run like hell,” Jamie said as he fired a fast glance toward the wall.

If they’d been smart, they never would have betrayed her coven.

Jamie’s head jerked to the right. “One’s running.”