Hunting Ground [Claiming Series, #3]

-2-

"When do I not?"

One corner of Kane's mouth twitched upward. "True. But this one is intriguing. She can't be human."

"Not fully, in any event. That much is clear."

"We—or you, actually—must now concern ourselves with whether she might be an additional threat. She smells human, however, or I would not have brought her here."

"I agree about her aroma. She certainly doesn't smell like anything else I've ever met." He drummed his fingers again briefly. "Well, she's certainly not in league with the rogues. I doubt that even someone who heals as swiftly as she does would have volunteered to be treated like that."

"I agree. So now let us go learn what we can."

The blood he had drunk had energized him, cold and nearly lifeless as it was. Things didn't look quite as bleak as they had when he'd arrived here hungry. But they were still bleak.

Violet's death had left a gaping hole in his heart, his mind, his life, and he was sure he would never be able to fill it.

But for now, he decided, perhaps Asher was right. If he was going to choose death, he might as well die fighting. The idea better suited his nature. Maybe that was why he had hesitated to take the final step for so long: the notion of leaving quietly just didn't fit him. A death in battle...well, there was something to be said for that.

Tessa had showered and changed into a pair of too-tight, too-short jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that Mackenzie and Julie had managed to find for her. She still huddled in a corner of the couch but no longer looked ready to spring.

And she smelled better. Kane appreciated the fact that he didn't have to keep fighting the allure of her blood. As a human morsel, she enticed him amply. He had needed to feed not only because he had been hungry, but because when he was hungry, resisting temptation became harder.

Now that she was cleaned up, he could see she was pretty. Her eyes had an unusual blue-gray color that reminded him of something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Her hair, wet and straight to her shoulder, showed premature streaks of white and gray amidst the dark curtain. Around her neck on leather thong was an unusual crystal wolf's head that caught and splintered light.

A curious, unusual human to be sure. If human she was.

Kane looked at Asher, who nodded. So he began.

"I saved you," Kane said. "I took you from the park. I found you near death, and while I was preparing to take you from there, one for the rogues who attacked you arrived to finish you off. I gutted him, Tessa. I gutted him and broke his neck, then carried you away."

Horror and satisfaction warred on her face. Horror, no doubt, at his description of the kill, but satisfaction from knowing one of her attackers had met such a fate. She scowled. "You didn't save me for my sake."

"No," Kane agreed. "I brought you here for the sake of my friend, Asher. You were proof of what I had to say."

"So why should I care?"

"Because you're still alive."

Her frown deepened, but she moved uneasily. He leaned toward her, lowering his voice to that hypnotic tone that usually got vampires what they wanted. He fixed her with his gaze, holding her in thrall.

"What are you, Tessa?"

She didn't respond. Some mortals were immune to being vamped, although not very many, but he was disappointed anyway. They needed to know, and she was refusing to tell. He did note, however, that she didn't quite seem able to break from his gaze. At least he had that advantage.