Page 65 of Marked By Moonlight

The gun was suddenly plucked from her hands.

She yelped and tried to snatch it back.

“A friend of yours?” Darius asked mildly.

He didn’t wait for her answer. Stepping in front of her, he took aim. She launched herself at him, raining blows upon the broad expanse of his back, desperate to protect Gideon.

A second shot punched the air, its soft zing a stab to her heart. Claire jumped off Darius, exhaling thickly as she watched Ian crumple to the ground. Not Gideon. Relief washed through her, consuming her, blinding her to all other concerns. Forgetting about Darius and what he would do when he realized he had missed and shot one of his own, she raced ahead.

Gideon was alive. That was all that mattered. She grasped him by both arms and looked him over. “Are you hurt? Did he bite you?”

Gideon shrugged free of her arms, assessed himself, clearly checking for any open wounds where Ian could have infected him. “I’m fine.”

His gaze lifted beyond her and before she knew it, he thrust her, stumbling, behind him. Apparently he had noticed they weren’t alone. Gideon’s gun lay a yard away and Darius held hers in his hand. Unarmed, Gideon stepped back, taking her with him, hands splayed on either side of her hips.

Darius studied them, following as they inched down the alley. “What are you doing with her, lycan hunter?” He nodded his dark head at Claire peeking around Gideon. “She’s not for you.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment, his gaze oddly intimate, possessive.

“How does he know you’re a lycan hunter?” she whispered into Gideon’s ear, flattening her palms against the rigid muscles of his back.

“I can always spot a hunter,” Darius answered. “A useful survival skill.”

Claire swallowed and wet her lips nervously. Gideon tensed beneath her hands.

Darius continued conversationally, gaze trained on her. “They have a distinctive smell,” he explained. “Haven’t you noticed your keen sense of smell?” He tapped the side of his nose and shook his head indulgently, a light smile curving his lips. “I have much to teach you.”

“Like hell,” Gideon swore.

“What do lycan hunters smell like?” Claire couldn’t help asking, intrigued. Gideon had only ever smelled wonderful to her. Man and soap and fresh cut wood.

“Claire,” Gideon warned in a low voice. “Would you mind keeping quiet?”

“They’ve got a certain stink to them,” Darius answered, his voice laced with undeniable amusement. “The sour smell of righteous honor.”

Gideon’s hands tensed, squeezing her hips even tighter.

Silence fell as Gideon and Darius assessed each other.

Finally, Darius repeated his question, all amusement gone from the clipped velvet of his voice. “What are you doing with her, lycan hunter?”

“Keeping her from becoming like you,” Gideon returned.

“Ah.” The fathomless silver pools of his eyes reflected nothing. And his face, carved of stone, was equally impassive, but his voice held a certain amount of contempt as he asked, “And you think you can succeed?”

At this, Gideon said nothing. She glanced at the back of his head, frowning as she waited for him to say that they could succeed. That they would. After all, what was the point of all this if he didn’t believe she had a chance?

“And you, my little dove?” Darius’s glowing gaze drilled into her. “You think this killer of lycans will save you?”

Claire opened her mouth but no words came. How could she claim what Gideon himself could not?

“Interesting.” He tossed the gun down with a noisy clatter. “You are both full of confidence. I’ll leave you to it.” His gaze hovered on her a moment longer. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Don’t count on it,” Gideon replied.

Smiling vaguely, Darius turned.

“Wait!” Claire cried, rushing around Gideon.

Darius looked back over his shoulder, a dark brow arched.

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