Love Me to Death (Underveil, #1)(30)

Nikolai stood and brushed the snow off, then grabbed the bearskin and shook it. It was only his blood she craved, and for some reason that bugged the shit out of him. Why should he care at all? She was a vampire, and even though their souls met on the cord, he knew it would never work. Perhaps it was simply the rejection that burned. He’d never been denied by a female before, and it stung. Yes, that was it. It was only his pride. She meant nothing.

“We need to get moving,” he said, wrapping the bearskin over his shoulders, then grabbing the suitcase and tucking it under his arm. Fortunately, they were very close to the meeting place. “Come.”

He struck out for the destination but the cord jerked him to a stop.

“Come!” he repeated.

“I’m not a dog you can command.”

He could see the defiance in her eyes, and it aroused him. So strong. But as much as he admired her will, they didn’t have time for this right now. They could play who’s on top later.

“Elena. We must—”

The sound of motors cut him short. Shit. They’d been discovered, and teleporting again this soon was iffy, especially since there were two of them. Besides, he needed to take care of this because he couldn’t just let Aleksi teleport right into a trap or ambush. Best to face whatever was bearing down on them and hope it wasn’t Slayer Elite Forces.

“Listen to me well. You must not move no matter what you hear, do you understand?” She was mortal and could get hurt so easily.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

“If they see you, they’ll kill you. Get on your belly in the snow, now. Lay perfectly still no matter what.”

She nodded and dropped to her hands and knees. At least she was compliant when it was essential. Once she was flat, he spread the skin over her. He would need to stay in one place to be effective. If he were within their striking range, they’d be within his as well. He pulled the cord to give himself the most length possible. At least it wasn’t on his sword arm. He positioned himself over the skin, one foot on either side of her. No blade would find her. Not while he was alive.

The first of the snowmobiles crested the berm, and he almost shouted out with relief. The next two were no different. They were manned by wood elves, the easiest of the Underveil creatures to defeat. Why would they be defending the Slayer fortress?

Though equipped with rifles—probably to kill or injure Elena—the elves were also armed with swords. Bullets would do nothing to him, but a good slice with a blade would slow him down, though not kill him, even if forged by the light elves. He would have to be burned to ash or decapitated by a Slayer sword to be defeated, and the chance of a wood elf doing that was zilch. Still, they could kill Elena easily, which was his primary concern as the first snowmobile rocketed toward him.

Sword in front, ready, he waited…and smiled. This is what he was best at—what he was made for: combat.

Before the elf could even get his sword around in a full swing, his head hit the snow in a black, sticky mess. The snowmobile continued down the hill to a ravine, headless body dumped before it rolled.

“Next?” Nikolai shouted.

Ah, two at once. Bring it. Feet still on either side of Elena’s body, he brought the sword over his head and swung in a full arc, slicing the torso of one, and causing the other to swerve wildly, losing control of his vehicle, which rolled several times before smashing into a tree.

The one with the slice through his middle came to a stop and dismounted the vehicle. He yanked the rifle from his snowmobile, grin visible in the rising sunlight. Shit. He’d figured out Elena was under the fur.

A quick glance revealed the third guy who had wrecked was limping toward his vehicle, probably to get his rifle as well.

Shit, shit, shit. If only he weren’t tied to her. Heart pounding, he focused on his opposition. They’d try to immobilize him with bullets most likely.

The wood elf engaged the magazine with a sharp click, and Nikolai snatched the dagger from his boot. As the gun tip rose, aiming right at the vulnerable human between his feet, Nikolai drew the dagger back and allowed all his well-trained muscles do the work. Landing hard, he held his breath as the shower of bullets began.

Forever, the sharp staccato of gunfire rang in his ears, as every nerve ending fired with pain. The woman under him remained motionless. If she died, so would he. Hopefully, his body would absorb it all, and none of the bullets would pass though him into her.

A shrill, familiar scream echoed through the forest, and then the gunshots stopped.

“The bastard!” Aleksi shouted from somewhere nearby. “Wood elves?”

He groaned and lifted his head to find her storming toward him, gold eyes flashing.

“Honestly,” she continued, helping him roll off Elena. “Is there no one with whom Fydor will not ally?”

Elena flinched as Aleksi ripped the fur off her. Relief flowed through him like warm water. She had survived. He wanted to sit up and check her for wounds, but was unable to move.

“Are you shot?” Aleksandra asked her.

“I—I don’t think so.”

“Well, then get up.”

She rolled to her side and tried unsuccessfully to push to her feet.

Aleksi, sword covered with black tree elf blood, crouched over where Nikolai lay sprawled on his back in the blood-soaked snow. She placed her hands on either side of his face. “Hang in there. I’ll get the bullets out as soon as your human baggage makes herself useful.”