The Wicked Kiss (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #2)(49)

Turning onto the main drag, I headed for the north end of town and the beautiful little fountain park that also served as a both a tourist attraction and information center. It would be empty at this time of night, perfect for unleashing some negative energy. By then, hopefully, Arys would have appeased both his hunger and mine.

* * * *

As expected, the park was cast in darkness. A few strategically placed streetlights illuminated the path that led to both the gazebo and the path that wound the circumference of the large fountain pond. I parked in one of the many vacant spaces and got out of the car, breathing in the crisp night air. Thick, luscious trees and brush surrounded the park on all sides except the one with the large hill, which led up to the highway on the edge of town. The sound of vehicles passing by was distant. If I turned away from the hill, it was as if I wasn’t even in town anymore.

I passed the community bulletin board, glancing briefly at a flyer advertising a way overpriced, used Mustang for sale. I chuckled to myself, knowing the guy would never unload it on anyone but a sucker. Passing the gazebo, I continued down the path, headed toward the bridge that spanned the length of the pond.

As I drew closer, the darkness seemed to grow thicker. The fading light behind me was soon no more than a pale glow. The bridged loomed large and spooky beneath the silver moonlight. A chill spilled down my spine like ice-cold water when a memory surfaced, unbidden and unwelcome.

I had come here the day that Arys gave me the letter from Raoul, the one he’d found addressed to me, Raoul’s confession. It had been one of the most horrifying and enlightening days of my life. Everything had changed that day: some for the better and others not so much.

I stepped onto the bridge, light and silent on the wooden planks beneath my feet. I followed its U shape up to the peak of its height, reaching out to the metal railing to steady myself. The water below looked absolutely black. I knew it was filled with thick, dangerous weeds and was actually very deep in places. The glint of the moonlight reflected off the dark surface, catching my eye.

Despite the perfection of the scene around me, the vampire’s bloodlust scarcely waned. The need for the kill was deep in my core, riding me hard. Hadn’t that damn vampire fed yet? Where could he be? At most times, the differing power of the wolf and the vampire co-existed somewhat peacefully within me. Now, they seemed to be battling for control. The approach of the full moon encouraged my wolf’s dominant and controlling nature as it warred with the cold power of the undead.

A visible spasm wracked my body, and I gripped the railing tighter with both hands.

The warm living energy of my wolf fought to battle the blood hunger, but something else appealed to my instincts. My head snapped up suddenly as the night air carried the scent of werewolf to me but not anyone’s scent that I knew.

My eyes instantly searched the surrounding darkness; my every sense, on full alert. I was standing in the middle of the bridge, and my instincts screamed at me to both fight and to run. I inhaled deeply, pinpointing the scent to my right, the way I’d just come. I only smelled one Were out there lurking around. His energy was livid, and he was out to kill.

I sprung into motion, moving slowly but steadily along the bridge, towards the other side. I didn’t want a confrontation on top where I could end up going over the side. I couldn’t imagine who this werewolf was stalking me or why. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared shitless.

Judging the distance back to the Charger, I knew I’d never make it in time if this Were was intent on attacking me. Ever so slowly, I made my way down the other side of the bridge, grateful when my feet were back on solid ground. I could feel his energy grow stronger in its intensity as he advanced on me. I had yet to see him in the darkness. I could feel him though, getting closer with every step.

I tapped into the hungry power I held inside, bracing for the attack that I knew was coming. His scent was musky and strong, as if he had been in wolf form for a long time. I was praying he wasn’t on four feet now, or he would easily have the physical advantage.

We never saw foreign Weres in this town, not like this.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The shape that came across the bridge then seemed to be nothing but a blur. I gave a small cry, throwing my hands up, the power rushing from me so fast that I almost collapsed. The rush of gold and blue hit him dead on, throwing him back. I turned to run, sensing only one but fearing more than that.

I had barely made it ten feet when a clawed hand reached me, digging into my shoulder and down my back. I felt the blood spill from the gouges before the scent reached me. The adrenaline blasted through me so hard, I almost stumbled from the onslaught of it. I was afraid, but the bloodlust was quickly stripping that away, and I turned to fight him with all I had.

A snarl broke the silence, and everything seemed to speed up again. In the pale glow of the moon, I could see that he had long, dark hair, stringy and matted. His eyes seemed to glow deep amber brown, and his large fangs flashed as he rushed me.

My breath whooshed out as his weight slammed into me, taking me down beneath him. His fangs snapped just inches before my face, and I struggled uselessly to make my lungs work. I lashed out in defense, raining blows like bricks against his face. He seemed to be unfeeling as he took every one with little protest. His eyes were locked on mine as his clawed hands wrapped around my throat.

He squeezed so hard that my vision blurred and white spots danced before my eyes.

For a moment, I truly thought I was dying. The power of the undead saved me. It wasn’t afraid to die because it was already beyond mortal life. It wanted to taste this fiery werewolf, to drain everything from him slowly and completely. I reached out metaphysically first, drawing his energy to me.