Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood #8)(182)

Abruptly, she wondered why he didn't cloak them both--

He was limping. He'd taken a bullet somewhere--and now that she

was properly focused, she could smell his blood, and see it glistening on the pavement.

As Lash kept going, those sorry-ass humans came into sight again,

and they looked like corpses, all pale and stiff to the point where she was amazed they could make any noises at all. Their car, she thought. Lash was going to try to take the two of them back to whatever ride those boys had come in. And although he was compromised on some levels, his grip on her was viciously strong, and that knife? Steady and ready.

Xhex stared down at John and knew she would remember the

magnificent sight of his warrior's vengeance forever--

She frowned as she sensed his emotions. How . . . strange. That

shadow she had always sensed in the lee of his grid wasn't a mere second-stringer anymore--it was as tangible and vivid as that which had always been the primary construct within his psyche.

In fact, as he stared up the alley, the two parts of him . . . became one.

After John had been hit with that bomb of energy, he was dazed and

disoriented, but he forced his head to get back in the game and somehow managed to heave himself off the ground. He couldn't feel some portion of his body, and the other half that wasn't numb screamed in pain, but neither mattered. Deadly purpose animated him, replacing the beat of his heart as the driver of his physical form.

Locking his eyes on the scene before him, his hands twitched and his

shoulders tightened. Lash was using Xhex as a living shield, all his best target points hidden behind her as he pulled her away.

That knife to her throat was right on her vein. Pressing against her . . .

In a quick twist, reality warped and distorted on him, his sight fuzzing out and becoming clear, only to lose its grip on the alley they were all in once more. Blinking hard, he cursed the tricks that Lash had at his disposal--

Except the problem wasn't what John had been hit with. It was

something inside of him--a vision. A vision was boiling up from somewhere deep in his mind, wiping out what he was actually seeing. . . .

A field by a barn. In the dark of night.

He shook his head and was relieved when the alley in Caldwell came

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back--

A field by a barn. In the dark of night . . . a female who mattered held in an evil lock, a knife to her throat.

And then he was abruptly back in the present, returning here to the

warehouse district . . . where a female who mattered was held in an evil lock, a knife to her throat.

Oh, God . . . he felt like he had done this before.

Fuck that . . . he had done this before.

The epileptic fit came over him as it always did, scrambling his

neurons, sending him flying in his own skin.

Usually he ended up on his ass, but the bonded male in him kept him

upright, giving him a kind of power that came from the soul, not the body: His female was in the arms of a killer and every cell in John's body was going to rectify the situation in as violent and fast a manner as possible.

Or maybe even a little bloodier and quicker than that.

He moved his hand into his coat for his gun . . . but shit, what was

there to shoot at? Lash wasn't taking any chances with his own vital organs and his grotesque head was so close to hers, there was no room for error.

John's fury screamed inside of him--

In his peripheral vision, he saw a gun muzzle come up.

Blink.

A field by a barn. In the dark of night. A female who mattered held in an evil lock, a knife to her throat. A gun brought to bear--

Blink.

Back here in Caldwell, the love of his life in the hands of his enemy.

Blink.

A gun going off--

The explosion right next to John's ear shocked him firmly back into

reality, and he let out a wordless scream, lunging forward as if he could catch the bullet.

No! he screamed soundlessly. Noooo--

Except it was a perfect shot. The slug caught Lash in the temple--

about two inches away from Xhex's own head.

In slow motion, John glanced over his shoulder. Tohrment's forty was

held straight out from the guy's body, the weapon unwavering in the cold air.

For some reason, neither the shooter nor the accuracy was a surprise

even though it had been a one-in-a-million Hail Mary.

Oh, God, they'd done this before, hadn't they. Just . . . like this.

Real time snapped back into place and John whipped his head around

again. Across the way, Xhex was brilliant as Lash staggered. She ducked 463

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down into a crouch to give Tohr a bigger target and was almost totally out of the way as the second bullet got sent flying.

Impact number two popped Lash right off his precious little loafers,

landing him flat on his back.

John threw off the vestiges of his vertigo and pounded down to his

female, his shitkickers grabbing the ground and holding tight, his thighs shoving all his strength into his feet as he burst into action.

His only thought was of saving Xhex, and he went for the weapon he

needed to do the deed with: the six-inch black dagger that was holstered to his chest. As he came up to them, he raised his arm over his head, prepared to fall upon his enemy and stab Lash back to--