Blake's Pursuit
Page 5
Fending off the guy’s punches, Blake didn’t get a chance to verify that the woman was unhurt. He only heard her frightened screams and saw a flash of something pink move in his peripheral vision. He had to keep all his wits about him to keep his attacker at bay. The stranger had an advantage over Blake, because he was heavier, though his fighting technique was less refined. That’s where Blake had the upper hand. Even so, the guy still managed to land a few minor kicks and blows.
When the jerk’s fist came at him again, Blake ducked away and rammed him against the bookcase. Books and trinkets crashed to the floor, but the vampire didn’t give up. He grabbed the standing lamp to his left and flung it at Blake, who dove away, letting it slam harmlessly against the wall.
But the attacker didn’t slow down. He pushed away from the bookshelf and reached for a chair that was covered with a stack of magazines. Blake knew exactly what the guy planned to do with the chair—the wooden chair. But he didn’t intend to give him the chance.
“Nice try, buddy!” Blake grunted and jumped, knocking the chair out of the assailant’s hand before he could slam it against the wall and make himself a stake. As Blake wheeled back to deliver a punch to the attacker’s head, a balled-up fist hit him in the gut, making him fold over for a split second.
But he’d had worse than this. Scanguards had trained him well in hand-to-hand combat. Nobody would defeat him that easily, not even a vampire who weighed a good thirty pounds more than him.
He continued to trade blows with the assailant, avoiding as many direct hits as he could, though the attacker did land a few well-placed fists, just as Blake managed to deliver some decent blows to the guy’s increasingly agitated face. It wouldn’t be long before both he and the attacker would bare their fangs, despite the human in the room. Not knowing whether the woman knew what they were, he wanted to avoid that complication.
It spurned him on to go even harder at the hostile vampire, and he now used his legs to deliver powerful kicks, moves he’d learned from various martial arts disciplines. But the assailant wouldn’t go down. He kept coming, kept punching and kicking more ferociously by the minute, as if the fight was replenishing his energy. There was no stopping him with ordinary means. Only a stake or a silver bullet would bring this determined jerk down. But that wasn’t an option right now, particularly since he wanted him alive.
Blake gritted his teeth and drew on all of his reserves, pummeling the assailant with vampire force and speed. In return, the vampire turned even wilder. His eyes glared red now.
A high-pitched shriek from the woman in the room distracted Blake for a split second. Had she seen the attacker’s glowing eyes?
A fist connecting with his temple made him tumble back a step. Blake swung his arm back and aimed for the hostile vampire’s chin, but when he stepped forward again to use all his weight against his opponent, his foot got caught in something and he slipped. He caught himself in mid-fall and jumped back, but the other vampire was already heading toward the open doorway.
Frantic, Blake disentangled his foot from the lamp’s electrical cord, in which he’d gotten caught, and raced after him. The kitchen was small, and from it a second door led back into the hallway. The assailant was heading for it, but Blake ripped him back and spun him around.
But before Blake could deliver a punch, the attacker braced himself on the kitchen counter and kicked both his legs into Blake’s stomach, knocking him on his ass. It gave the hostile vampire enough time to hoist himself over the kitchen sink and lunge for the open window.
Blake was already up again and charging toward the window, when something hard hit him from the side. Momentarily disoriented, he spun his head toward the open doorway, where the scantily-dressed woman stood with a hairdryer in her hand.
“Shit!” he cursed and jumped onto the counter, lunging toward the window. But when he looked outside, the vampire was already fifty yards away from the building and mounting a motorcycle.
He sped away. Despite his vampire night vision, Blake couldn’t make out the numbers: they had been obscured with dirt.
“Fuck,” he cursed, slamming his hand against the wall, before jumping down and turning back to the woman. “Why the fuck did you hit me with that thing? I had him!”
She lifted her chin. “You didn’t have him! He was beating the shit out of you. I was fucking helping you!”
“Yeah, you were a big help!” he growled. “You should have stayed out of it.”
“Oh yeah? And play the damsel in distress?” she griped.
He stepped toward her, furious now. “You were the damsel in distress.”
He took a deep breath, and for the first time really looked at her. Yeah, and what an utterly beautiful damsel she was. Fuck, he hadn’t even noticed. But he sure noticed now.
She was a natural blonde, her hair the color of wheat. It cascaded down her shoulders and touched the exposed skin of her neckline, where her pink bathrobe gaped open. Beneath the fabric, her breasts heaved from the force of her heavy breathing, possibly from the effort of hitting him, certainly from the outrage over his admonishment. Well, he didn’t mind the view. Not at all, in fact. She was quite something to look at. Not petite, not fragile, but tall and athletic.
His eyes wandered lower. The robe only reached to mid-thigh, and the legs that he now admired were trim and a little pale from lack of sun. But he could imagine that in the summer her skin would turn the color of bronze, accentuating her golden hair. Involuntarily he shifted, the sudden tightness in his pants forcing him to find a more comfortable position, before the beauty before him noticed that he was sporting the beginnings of a hard-on—and that it was her fault.
A huff made him lift his eyes to her face. Her cornflower-blue eyes scrutinized him with barely-veiled suspicion now. He could get lost in their depths, were they not narrowed at him now.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
He tilted his head to the side. “You mean apart from saving your pretty ass from that jerk?” He pointed to the window.
A little bit of color rose to her cheeks. “Yeah, apart from that.”
“I could ask you the same thing. ‘Cause for sure you’re not Hannah. And this is her flat. So what are you doing here?”
“That’s rich!” she sniped. “You’re breaking in here, and you’re asking me what I’m doing?”
When the jerk’s fist came at him again, Blake ducked away and rammed him against the bookcase. Books and trinkets crashed to the floor, but the vampire didn’t give up. He grabbed the standing lamp to his left and flung it at Blake, who dove away, letting it slam harmlessly against the wall.
But the attacker didn’t slow down. He pushed away from the bookshelf and reached for a chair that was covered with a stack of magazines. Blake knew exactly what the guy planned to do with the chair—the wooden chair. But he didn’t intend to give him the chance.
“Nice try, buddy!” Blake grunted and jumped, knocking the chair out of the assailant’s hand before he could slam it against the wall and make himself a stake. As Blake wheeled back to deliver a punch to the attacker’s head, a balled-up fist hit him in the gut, making him fold over for a split second.
But he’d had worse than this. Scanguards had trained him well in hand-to-hand combat. Nobody would defeat him that easily, not even a vampire who weighed a good thirty pounds more than him.
He continued to trade blows with the assailant, avoiding as many direct hits as he could, though the attacker did land a few well-placed fists, just as Blake managed to deliver some decent blows to the guy’s increasingly agitated face. It wouldn’t be long before both he and the attacker would bare their fangs, despite the human in the room. Not knowing whether the woman knew what they were, he wanted to avoid that complication.
It spurned him on to go even harder at the hostile vampire, and he now used his legs to deliver powerful kicks, moves he’d learned from various martial arts disciplines. But the assailant wouldn’t go down. He kept coming, kept punching and kicking more ferociously by the minute, as if the fight was replenishing his energy. There was no stopping him with ordinary means. Only a stake or a silver bullet would bring this determined jerk down. But that wasn’t an option right now, particularly since he wanted him alive.
Blake gritted his teeth and drew on all of his reserves, pummeling the assailant with vampire force and speed. In return, the vampire turned even wilder. His eyes glared red now.
A high-pitched shriek from the woman in the room distracted Blake for a split second. Had she seen the attacker’s glowing eyes?
A fist connecting with his temple made him tumble back a step. Blake swung his arm back and aimed for the hostile vampire’s chin, but when he stepped forward again to use all his weight against his opponent, his foot got caught in something and he slipped. He caught himself in mid-fall and jumped back, but the other vampire was already heading toward the open doorway.
Frantic, Blake disentangled his foot from the lamp’s electrical cord, in which he’d gotten caught, and raced after him. The kitchen was small, and from it a second door led back into the hallway. The assailant was heading for it, but Blake ripped him back and spun him around.
But before Blake could deliver a punch, the attacker braced himself on the kitchen counter and kicked both his legs into Blake’s stomach, knocking him on his ass. It gave the hostile vampire enough time to hoist himself over the kitchen sink and lunge for the open window.
Blake was already up again and charging toward the window, when something hard hit him from the side. Momentarily disoriented, he spun his head toward the open doorway, where the scantily-dressed woman stood with a hairdryer in her hand.
“Shit!” he cursed and jumped onto the counter, lunging toward the window. But when he looked outside, the vampire was already fifty yards away from the building and mounting a motorcycle.
He sped away. Despite his vampire night vision, Blake couldn’t make out the numbers: they had been obscured with dirt.
“Fuck,” he cursed, slamming his hand against the wall, before jumping down and turning back to the woman. “Why the fuck did you hit me with that thing? I had him!”
She lifted her chin. “You didn’t have him! He was beating the shit out of you. I was fucking helping you!”
“Yeah, you were a big help!” he growled. “You should have stayed out of it.”
“Oh yeah? And play the damsel in distress?” she griped.
He stepped toward her, furious now. “You were the damsel in distress.”
He took a deep breath, and for the first time really looked at her. Yeah, and what an utterly beautiful damsel she was. Fuck, he hadn’t even noticed. But he sure noticed now.
She was a natural blonde, her hair the color of wheat. It cascaded down her shoulders and touched the exposed skin of her neckline, where her pink bathrobe gaped open. Beneath the fabric, her breasts heaved from the force of her heavy breathing, possibly from the effort of hitting him, certainly from the outrage over his admonishment. Well, he didn’t mind the view. Not at all, in fact. She was quite something to look at. Not petite, not fragile, but tall and athletic.
His eyes wandered lower. The robe only reached to mid-thigh, and the legs that he now admired were trim and a little pale from lack of sun. But he could imagine that in the summer her skin would turn the color of bronze, accentuating her golden hair. Involuntarily he shifted, the sudden tightness in his pants forcing him to find a more comfortable position, before the beauty before him noticed that he was sporting the beginnings of a hard-on—and that it was her fault.
A huff made him lift his eyes to her face. Her cornflower-blue eyes scrutinized him with barely-veiled suspicion now. He could get lost in their depths, were they not narrowed at him now.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
He tilted his head to the side. “You mean apart from saving your pretty ass from that jerk?” He pointed to the window.
A little bit of color rose to her cheeks. “Yeah, apart from that.”
“I could ask you the same thing. ‘Cause for sure you’re not Hannah. And this is her flat. So what are you doing here?”
“That’s rich!” she sniped. “You’re breaking in here, and you’re asking me what I’m doing?”
