Red alert! Red alert! Impending emotional breakdown.
I shoved the worry into the mental box, stretching the sides. It was a fight, but I managed to lock the lid.
Better. For now.
"You can look at me," he said. "I won't bite...very hard."
My gaze moved up, up and linked with his, and suddenly I was trapped by a yearning that had plagued me since the first moment we'd met. For him...for this...for more.
A slow grin lifted the corners of his wicked mouth.
Dude. While Gavin was pretty, Cole was pure, rugged sex appeal. He should totally come with a warning. Possible panty melting. Moonlight spilled over him, illuminating him, and for a few seconds, I thought I heard angels singing. His black hair stood out in adorable spikes, as if he'd plowed his hands through the strands one too many times. Eager to see me, perhaps? His gorgeous violet eyes were framed by lashes so thick and black, he always looked like he'd applied eyeliner.
As for the rest of him...
Good glory! I knew the physique hidden by his clothing. Skin bronzed to perfection. Muscles honed to perfection. A perfect chest covered by the most perfect tattoos. One of his nipples was pierced--meow!--and it was, you guessed it, perfect.
His knuckles feathered over my cheek, the slight touch electrifying me. "I missed you."
Shivering, I said, "How much?"
"Why? Do you think you missed me more?"
"Sure of it."
"I will happily prove you wrong. After I see my surprise."
"Get ready for pure awesomeness." I lifted my hair and pivoted, revealing my neck.
Silence descended.
I frowned, suddenly nervous. What if he didn't like it? Ink was permanent.
"Ali." His voice, so husky and deep, was temptation and silk, stroking over me. "Did I ever tell you all the reasons I love you?"
"No." I licked my lips and shook my head, gathering the courage to face him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, smoldering.
He liked the tattoo.
"Tell me now," I commanded softly.
"I'll tell you the top ten. One," he said and kissed my forehead. "You are brutally honest. It's such a rare and precious trait."
Major points for my man: he'd led with personality rather than appearance.
"Two." He kissed my eye. "You have the perfect sense of humor...perfect for me. It's a little warped, and a lot twisted, and you can make me laugh when no one else can."
I almost melted. Almost. I had to hear the rest. "Go on or I'll hurt you." Had I sounded as breathless to him as I had to myself?
He chuckled. "Three." He kissed my other eye, gentle, so gentle. "You're smart. I want to see your brain naked."
Ha!
"Four. You are freaking hot."
"Obviously." And okay, yeah, he got points for that, too. Maybe because I so very rarely felt hot. Or maybe because I so desperately wanted another kiss. A harder one. On my lips. With tongue and teeth. And roaming hands. Or maybe because I wanted him to want all of me.
"Five." He kissed my cheek, and I moaned. More. "You are unbelievably kind." He kissed my other cheek. "Six. You love with your whole heart, nothing held back."
"Come on. Kiss me for real." Did he want me to beg? Because I would...after I made him beg a little, too.
"Seven." He pressed his lips against one side of my jaw, skipping my lips, dang him. "You are such a good fighter, I could stand back and watch you do all the hard work, and I wouldn't feel like a wuss. I'd feel like a genius."
"I'll believe that when I see it."
"Eight." He kissed his way to the other side of my jaw. "The way you sometimes look at me... It's as if I'm the sweetest dessert in the bakery and you are desperate for a bite."
Yes, yes. A big, delicious bite. "At one time," I said, the huskiness of my tone surprising me. I wrapped my arms around his neck. "That look of mine scared you." With good reason. I'd been loaded with zombie toxin and had literally wanted to eat him. Well, not me but my zombie twin. Z.A.
"Nine," he went on and nibbled on my ear. "You're like the world's most perfect drug. One hundred percent pure, guaranteed to addict after the first taste. I can't imagine my life without you in it--don't want to."
My skin tingled, and my blood flashed white-hot. "Cole," I said on another moan. I tangled my hands in his hair, angled his head, trying to take over. "Please. Stop talking, and start acting."
"Ten," he said and finally--blessedly--pressed his lips against mine. Only it was soft, far too soft. "You would die for me, the same way I would die for you."
"Yes, yes, I would." I waited for hard.
He didn't give it to me. His face hovered directly over mine as he...deliberated his next move?
Happy to help with that. "Take off your shirt," I commanded, already pulling at the material. "Now."
He gave me a quick smile. "Impatient?"
"Feral. And don't you dare complain. You're to blame."
"Complain? I'd rather celebrate." He plucked his shirt from my hands. "Take off your coat."
I was only surprised it hadn't already burned off me. I was that hot for him.
As he jerked the cotton over his head, I yanked at my coat and sweater, leaving on the tank, jeans and boots...for now. My gaze, controlled by a force greater than myself, traveled all over him--gold star for this one, God--before settling on his chest. He'd tattooed my name in bold, black letters that stretched from one nipple to the other.
Breathing him in...mmm, soap and strawberries...I traced the design with shaky fingers.
He gave a little moan. "Before we start, Ali-gator, I've got to warn you."
"Before we start?"
He fisted a handful of my hair, careful of my sore nape, and tugged me against him. Male strength against feminine softness. His gaze was fierce, unwavering. "I'm not going all the way with you."
The heat in my blood instantly cooled. "But why?" Right after my brush with death, he'd been ready. More than ready.
And I had been, too. Still was. I'd accepted that sex was something I could never take back, that it would change the course of our relationship...and me. While I wasn't a big fan of change, this was Cole. My Cole. I'd deal.
"After your grandmother interrupted us that night," he said, "I got to thinking." A hard mask fell over his features, making me suspect he'd done more than think. He'd probably listened to a lecture from his dad. "I'm eighteen. You're sixteen."
"Almost seventeen."
"I'm a legal adult. You're not."
"Cole--"
"Let me finish." His tone was now as hard as his features, intractable. "I think we should wait."
I peered up at him. At five-ten, I was tall. At six-four, he was taller. He was wider than me, heavier, and anytime I was near him I felt utterly consumed by him. Usually I adored it. Today, not so much. "Two years is--"
"One year, three months."
"--a long time," I finished.
"Not when we've got a lifetime together."
I opened my mouth to protest. Finally his lips crashed into mine.
Instant inferno. I kissed him with everything I had. We'd discuss the year-and-three-months wait at another time--maybe after I'd taken the edge off. Right now, I was simply going to enjoy him...and whatever he'd give me.
As my nails scraped against his back, and his hands anchored on my bottom, yanking me even closer, a thousand little fires ignited in my belly, spreading through the rest of me. What I'd thought was an inferno before? Not even close.
The flames must have spread through him, too, because he hoisted me up, rubbing himself against me. I wound my legs around his waist, practically melding our bodies together. He walked to the bed and laid me down, half of me hanging over the edge. All the while, the kiss continued. Hotter. Faster.
"We can do other things," he rasped. "Like before."
"Yes. Like before." The things he'd made me feel...
He planted his hands at my temples and raised his head. Panting, he said, "But maybe we
'll go a little further this time."
I licked my kiss-swollen lips and uttered a trembling "Why are you still talking?"
His grin was slow and wicked as he played with the clasp of my bra through my tank.
Beyond the bedroom door, glass tinkled.
Cole paused, frowned. "What--"
Multiple footsteps thumped against a wood floor.
Pop.
Pop.
Shocked, we bolted upright together. I knew that sound. Gunshot muffled by a silencer. But...but...
"Someone's here," Cole said, rushing to the nightstand to palm one of the weapons perched on top.
Who would attack the Hollands? And why? Doesn't make any sense...no sense...
Cole gave me a sharp look.
Right. Arm up. I shook my head to disperse the fog of stupidity and pulled two daggers from my boots. I never went anywhere without them. But daggers were for up-close-and-personal grab-and-stabs with zombies. Shots had been fired. I wouldn't be dealing with zombies.
I dropped the daggers and grabbed the pistol I had stashed in my coat.
"Cole! Run!" his father shouted--just as the bedroom window shattered.
Cole didn't have a chance to run.
More glass shattered. Something launched him across the room like a rocket-propelled grenade. He smashed into the wall, slid to the floor, leaving a thick, bright red smear of blood behind him.
Chapter 3
NO SPILLED GUTS,
NO GLORY
What the heck was going on?
Gasping, I dropped to my knees. "Cole?" I whispered, frantically crawling toward him. The pistol clinked against the floorboards, reminding me of a ticking clock.
I hated ticking clocks. An entire life could be altered in a single second.
I released the weapon and pressed two fingers into his neck, feeling for a pulse. Don't be dead, don't be dead, please, please, don't be dead. And yeah, okay, I knew death wasn't the end for us. Look at my sister. But I wasn't ready to lose any part of Cole.
Thump...thump. Thump...
Thank God! Slow, but strong. He was alive.
His eyes fluttered open. "Ali?"
"It's okay," I said. "You're okay. You're going to be okay."
"What happened?"
I surveyed the damage. There was a hole in the shoulder. Blood soaked him.
"Someone just shot you, I think. Right in front of me. That someone could still be out there. We could still be targets." The two halves of my brain were at war--hope versus dread--screwing with my focus. "What should I do?"
"Bind." He spoke softly, the word little more than air. "Shoulder."
Of course. Yes. I knew that. But...binding his shoulder wouldn't do much good. Blood was gushing out of him. He needed fire; it would cauterize.
Slayers could produce fire; it was necessary to kill zombies. I could produce fire. When summoned, the flames crackled at the ends of our fingers. We pressed them into zombies, and the heat spread, purified, burning away evil and darkness. Eventually, zombies exploded. For some reason, I could flame from head to toe and only a moment of contact was needed to end a zombie.
When used on humans, the fire healed...sometimes. Sometimes it caused final death, just like with zombies.
It had healed me, and it would heal Cole. We were both slayers, and that was the key distinguishing factor between healing and exploding.
Right?
I had to try. He wouldn't make it otherwise. He was hemorrhaging strength, his head lolling to the side. His lips were starting to turn blue, his skin chalk-white.
Frantic, I closed my eyes. Humans were made of three parts. The spirit, the source of life, was bound to the soul, which consisted of the mind, will and emotions. Both were housed inside the body, the outer shell. With a deep breath in...out...I forced my spirit and body to separate; it was like removing a hand from a glove. Because zombies were spirits, they could only fight other spirits. I'd learned to divide like this at a moment's notice.
Cold air enveloped me. Without the insulation of skin and muscle, my spirit felt the temperature drop what seemed like a thousand degrees.
"What are...you doing?" As a slayer, Cole could see into the spirit realm. Could see me.
Couldn't pause to explain. When it came to stuff like this, I was so new I had trouble multitasking.
Light, I thought, and the ends of my fingers heated. I peeked...flames crackled all the way to my wrist. Good, good. I reached inside Cole's shoulder.
His breath hitched. That was it, his only reaction. Even still, I knew his pain was off the charts. Been here, done this. He'd basically just received third-degree burns on his soul. But he hadn't turned to ash, so I would consider this a win.
I dismissed the flames and returned my spirit to its proper place with a simple touch, then studied Cole. His color was back to normal. That quickly. I grabbed the shirt he'd discarded and wrapped the material around the still-bleeding, but now-charring wound.
What next? I didn't know if there were bad guys with guns trained on the open window that was allowing flurries to bluster inside the room. I didn't know how many bad guys were in the house, shooting at Mr. Holland--or if Mr. Holland was still alive.
My insides twisted into a maze of painful knots.
No matter what, we couldn't--wouldn't--leave without him.
"Can you walk?" I asked.
Cole's jaw clenched with determination. "I don't...care if I...can. I will."
Despite the pauses in his speech, his timbre was stronger. Not just because of the emergency cauterization, I was sure, but because his bones were reinforced with iron-hard resolve, and his muscles pumped full of courage.
"I'll find your dad and meet you--"
"No." His tone was inflexible, meant to stop any argument. "We stay together."
"Time is of the essence."
"Don't care. My dad. My decision."
Very well. "We need more weapons." I crawled to the gun he'd dropped and slid it to him. Then I continued on to the nightstand and claimed the minicrossbow he had stashed there.
Cole struggled to his knees. "I'll go through...door first. You stay...on my heels. Got it?" He yanked a backpack from his closet, grimaced.
No, I didn't get it, and I wouldn't do as he'd demanded. The strong led the weak, not the other way around.
"I'll go first."
"Just--" He frowned, then held up a finger for silence.
I paused to listen for suspicious noises. Wind whistled eerily and...ice crunched. Every instinct I possessed shouted red alert, red alert!
Someone was coming in hot.
I turned and aimed just as a masked man swung his legs through the window. As he straightened, I squeezed the trigger. An arrow lodged in his throat, shutting off his airway and cutting off a bellow of pain before it could even form.
A kill shot.
I'd done what was necessary. I couldn't regret that.
Keeping my weapon trained on the intruder, I closed the distance. His head was turned to the side, his eyes open, but glazed. No pulse. He had an earpiece anchored to his lobe. I lifted the bud and listened, heard a tangle of voices.
"Hit. I'm hit--"
"--like me to proceed?"
"He's dead--"
There were more of them.
The door wrenched open, and I spun. I registered Mr. Holland's identity at the same time I gave the trigger a second squeeze, barely managing to twist my wrist and send the arrow into the post at his side.
"Get down," Cole commanded with a mixture of concern and relief.
Mr. Holland remained on his feet. One of his eyes was swollen shut; he scanned the room with the other, inhaling sharply when he spotted Cole, exhaling slowly when he spotted me. Crimson streaked his face. "There were four. Three inside, one outside. But it looks like you got him." He stalked to Cole's side and peeled back the soaked cotton to check his wound.
Cole winced.
"Clean shot, all the way through. Edges burned. Bleeding sl
owing." Mr. Holland threw the shirt aside, removed the one he wore and rebound his son. "We don't have much time. One got away. He'll come back with others."
"I've already heard others," I said. "On the dead guy's earpiece."
"Those men aren't here. They're at Ankh's."
Mr. Ankh, Reeve's father. He wasn't a slayer, but he funded our cause and allowed Nana and me to live at his house.
"Nana," I rasped. "Kat." She'd planned to stay the night with Reeve. Were they hurt?
Not knowing...
I should have been there, should have protected them.
"I'm sorry," Mr. Holland said, "but I don't know the outcome. This was a planned attack, meant to take us all down at once."
All? "You mean--" No. No, no, no. I didn't like where my thoughts were headed.
"Ankh called me. Someone shut down his security system. I was getting dressed, intending to go over there and help, when another call came in. Frosty. Soon after, Bronx rang. But I didn't have a chance to answer either boy. Two men busted through our back door. So, yes. I suspect every slayer on our team was targeted tonight."
Frosty. Bronx. Trina. Lucas. Cruz. Collins. Gavin. Veronica. Mackenzie. Justin. Jaclyn. If anything had happened to any of them... Different emotions hit me with the force of a baseball bat. Pain, regret, worry and a sharp lance of rage.
A to-do list took shape in my mind. Compartmentalize. Get Cole to a doctor. Find everyone else. Destroy the people responsible.
I didn't have to wonder about the culprit. Anima Industries. No question.
"The Ankhs have multiple secret passages meant for quick getaways," Cole said, his expression fierce. "Ankh got everyone out, Ali-gator. I guarantee it."
Like me, he abhorred lies. I believed him.
I confiscated the backpack, and he winced. "Sorry," I muttered as I anchored the strap over my shoulder. Whatever he'd stuffed inside weighed a million pounds. At least. "Let's get out of here."
We made it to the garage without incident, and I uttered a quiet prayer of thanks. Cole climbed into the passenger seat of his Jeep, and I set the backpack at his feet.
Mr. Holland tossed me a set of keys. "You're driving."
"Yes." A license wasn't important right now.
"Take him to Holy Trinity Church. Pastor's office. Bookshelf." Mr. Holland looked to Cole. "Like the shelter we built for your mom."
Cole stiffened. Any mention of his mother always had that effect. She'd been a slayer, and she might have had a shelter, but she'd still died during a zombie attack.