Page 115 of Claimed
I want to groan. Loudly.
“Do I want to know?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Probably not, but this will work.” He palms my cheek. “Ready, baby?”
I stare up into his softly glowing eyes and want to cry. I want to scream. To climb him like a fucking tree.
Leaning up, I kiss him hard and fast. “You get hurt, I kill you,” I breathe against his lips.
He kisses me again. “Get ready to run, baby.”
With that, he jumps in a flash of crimson light. There are several startled shouts from other end of the hall. I lean past the edge and watch as he dives under the table, his lean frame damn near as fast as a vamp. He slams the first case closed and using it like a baseball bat to take out the techs closest.
The guards outside the door frantically key in the codes to enter, their swearing loud and angry. Panicked.
My lips curve.
Caine snares the second case. The third. But the combined hazard of toting all three has made his swings more labored. The techs inside the room take up several of the rifles and my heart stops.
Without thought, I leap from the corner and rush down the hall.
The guard closest turns. I grip his rifle and push forward and up. The stock hits him in the chin and he reels. His hold loosens.
Spinning the ungainly weapon, I put my finger to the trigger and squeeze.
The first bullet catches the guard in the stomach. He clutches his mid-section and drops. I fire again, barely needing to aim at all from such close range. But each recoil rocks me back, forcing me to readjust before I can take the next shot.
Three more of the guards hit the white tile, their blood almost too red in the brightness. A shot rings out and I duck. Then another sounds. Huddled, I fire into the guards as they retreat down the hall.
The door to the lab is open as I fall back, smoke billowing out. I slip inside and slam the stock into the keypad as I try not to inhale.
It blinks and turns red. An alarm blares somewhere in the building.
Strong fingers close over my shoulder and I slam the gun into the tech’s stomach. He lets out an airless grunt and doubles over. I jam my knee into his nose and he drops. There is a steady barrage of pounding on the door behind me.
Ignoring it, I scan the room for Caine and find him feet away, his body wreathed in hellfire and the cases locked in his hands as flames roll over everything in sight. The techs bare down on him and he lets out a harsh snarl.
For a moment, I want to call it frustration.
Then I see the darts.
Dartsin his pale neck and one protruding from his chest.Brightex darts.
The room swims.
Caine.
He is almost feral as he tracks their approach, his body coiled and his dark hair so black it is like the bottom of a chasm. I notch the rifle to my shoulder and fire.
The first tech drops.
I expect remorse. Sorrow. Guilt.
There’s only anger.
Anger that they would take him from me. That they would hurt him. A harsh cry rips through the room and I realize it is coming from me as I fire again and again until the rifle clicks empty.
There is a burst of red light. Caine wraps his arm around me and we jump.
