Hunter's Edge

Chapter Thirty One

Are you really that stupid, Kel?

Kel lay on his narrow bed, staring up at the ugly gray ceiling overhead. One hand pillowed his head, the other was closed around the ring at his neck.

He couldn't feel Angel.

After twelve years, it was an abrupt, almost brutal absence, one he missed more than he could have expected. He was alone inside his head, more alone than he'd been in a long time. He hated it.

He'd been back in the enclave for a week now and he hadn't left his room once except to feed a few days ago. Even that had been hell—he couldn't touch a woman. No way. He'd sought out one of the werewolves who lived in the enclave—not Toronto. He couldn't look at Toronto because the shifter kept giving him censoring looks and making Kel doubt the choice he'd made.

Feeding from a male never sat well with him and he spent half that night feeling like he'd eaten bad meat or something.

His body had recovered from the injuries sustained during the fight, but his resources were drained. That quick feed a few days ago wasn't going to do the trick and he knew he needed a serious, real feed but he couldn't find the energy or the interest.

Likewise for Hunting.

Anything.

A motor sounded from outside, loud and out-of-place, but he tuned it out, just as he had tuned out anything and everything else.

Nothing really seemed real anymore so it was easy to ignore it all. Like turning down the volume on a radio.

So it was a little bit of a surprise when his ears picked up the sound of a fist pounding on the door of the manor. Even more surprising when he heard a voice. Easily picked it out from the others.

Angry. Demanding.

"Don't hand me that bullshit that you don't know who I'm talking about," the feminine voice snarled.

Another voice—and Kel felt the push of vamp compulsion. He recognized it, filed it away, because in a little bit, he was going to knock Josiah into the next millennium for trying to pull that mojo on Angel.

Rolling off the bed, he left his room and took off running up the steps. A woman with altered blood coming into a house full of vamps, even if they were on the side of the angels, was a bad, bad mistake.

Josiah was blocking the door but Kel could scent her—he had no doubt it was Angel.

"Leave her alone, Josiah," he said, his voice hard.

Josiah turned around and met Kel's flat stare. His eyes narrowed in understanding and he swore. "Shit. Kel, go downstairs."

Kel snarled. Striding across the room, he got in Josiah's face and dared him. "Why don't you try and make me?"

They were collecting an audience.

Toronto separated himself from the crowd, moving to stand at Josiah's side. His voice was pitched low, but the words were heard by all. "This doesn't concern you, Josiah. Just leave it."

The vamp whirled on Toronto, jerking a thumb in Kel's direction. "The last thing he needs now is to be around that girl."

"You know, that girl can speak for herself," Angel snapped from the doorway. Stubbornly, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Kel. "I'm not leaving until I've talked to you."

Then she sent a withering look at Josiah and added, "And whatever in the hell you were trying to pull? It won't work." Her eyes narrowed and she focused.