Yohenstria felt her slump against him and had to catch her in his arms to prevent her from falling. Her heart was laboring, her breathing shallow. He had taken too much again. His teeth tore open his wrist, and he clamped it hard over her mouth, forcing the dark liquid down her throat. Even with her life hanging in the balance, Alexandria fought him. He could not seize her mind and force her under his complete control. Although he was able to compel her to swallow some of his tainted blood, he knew it was only because she was so close to complete collapse. Still, each time he forced her to feed, he brought her closer to his dark world. She would not die; he would not allow it. He would have to force her to accept far more blood to keep her alive.

But even as he determined that, he felt the disturbance in the air. A slow hiss escaped his lips, and he turned his head slowly. “We have been found, my dear. Come, you will see what the hunter is like. There is nothing like him in this world. He is relentless.” Paul Yohenstria half carried, half dragged Alexandria from the cave into the night air.

All around them the waves crashed to shore, spitting up white spray, and sea foam doused the cliff walls. The vampire shoved Alexandria to the ground and centered himself in the middle of the open beach, his eyes scanning the sky.

Alexandria crawled across an expanse of sand to reach Joshua. He was huddled in a shadow, rocking back and forth, trying to comfort himself. She dragged herself to his side and positioned herself between him and the vampire. Something terrible was about to happen. She could feel the air thickening around them. The wind swirled, and fog blanketed the cove.

There was a rush of movement somewhere in the dense fog, and the vampire screamed, the sound high and filled with fear and rage. Alexandria’s heart nearly stopped. If the vampire was that afraid, whatever was out there was something for her to be terrified of too. She caught Joshua to her, covering his eyes with her hands. They clung together, shaking.

Out of the fog a huge golden bird seemed to materialize. It came in at the beach so fast, it was a blur, talons extended, golden eyes gleaming intensely. The heavy fog swirled, then parted to reveal a shape half human, half bird. Alexandria stifled a scream of her own.

Then the creature became a man, huge, tall, and heavily muscled, with bulging arms and a massive chest. His hair was long and blond, flowing in the wind. His body moved with supple fluidity, like a jungle cat stalking its prey. His face was shadowed, but she could see eyes like molten gold pinning the vampire in their intensity.

“So, Paul, we meet at last.” The voice was beautiful, a ripple of notes so pure, the tone seemed to seep into her very soul. He stood tall and relaxed, a perfect reincarnation of a Viking warrior. “I have had much work cleaning up the messes you have made around my city. Your challenge was quite clear. I could do no other than oblige you.”

The vampire moved backward, putting more space between them. “I never challenged you. I kept my distance.” His voice was so fawning, Alexandria went cold. This hunter was so great a force to be reckoned with that he struck terror into the heart of the vampire.

The hunter tilted his head to one side. “You killed when it was forbidden. You know the law, unclean one.”

The vampire launched itself then, a blur of wicked claws and fangs as it leapt to strike the intruder down. The hunter simply stepped aside and casually whipped a claw across the vampire’s throat, laying him open. Blood erupted in a red volcano.

Alexandria was horrified to see the golden head contorting, the face lengthening to a muzzle, fangs exploding into a wolf’s mouth. The hunter snapped the vampire’s femur like a twig, the sound carrying across the beach and resonating through her body. She flinched and hugged Joshua tighter, holding his head down to prevent him from witnessing such a terrifying and gruesome scene.

The vampire wiped at the blood running down his chest and stared with hateful eyes at the golden hunter. “You think you are not like me, Aidan, but you are. You are a killer, and you rejoice in the battle. It is the only time you feel alive. No one can be one such as you and not feel the joy and power in the taking of life. Tell me, Aidan, is it not true that you can see no color in this world? That there is no emotion in you unless you are in battle? You are the ultimate killer. You, Gregori, and your brother Julian. You are the darkest shadows in our world. You are the real killers.”

“You have broken our laws, Paul. You chose to trade your soul for the illusion of power instead of greeting the dawn. And you turned a human woman, created a deranged vampiress to feed on the blood of innocent children. You knew the penalty.”

The voice was purity itself, a cool, clean stream of beauty. The tone seemed to flow into Alexandria’s mind, made her want to do whatever he asked. “You know there is no way to defeat me,” the voice continued, and Alexandria believed it. It was so soft and gentle, so true. There was no way anyone could successfully oppose the hunter. He was truly invincible.

“It will not be long before one must come to hunt you,” Paul Yohenstria taunted, struggling to stand. His form seemed to shimmer, dissolve, but even as he mutated, the hunter struck again.

The sound was sickening. The fog cloaked the actual assault, and the hunter was such a blur of motion, Alexandria could not possibly follow his movements. But out of the fog rolled an obscene sight—the vampire’s head, the hair a tangle of blood and gore, the eyes open and staring. The head rolled toward her, spilling a crimson trail behind it.

Alexandria struggled to her feet, clutching Joshua to her, her hands over his eyes as the grotesque ball stopped mere inches away. The fog swirled and thickened, and, to her horror, the hunter turned his head, and the molten gold of his eyes rested on her face.

Chapter Three

Aidan Savage heaved an inward sigh as his gaze settled on the crazed vampiress clutching the small boy to her breast. The demon in him was strong today, struggling for freedom, the red haze in his mind clamoring for control. And the vampire was correct. Suppressing the killer within was becoming more and more difficult. He did feel the power and joy in battle, and the fighting was addicting because it was the only time he felt anything. He had endured centuries of a cold, barren, black-and-gray existence, enjoying no real color or emotion except the lust for battle.

He allowed his gaze to sweep the beach, then turned his attention back to the hag threatening the child. Suddenly he stilled. After more than six hundred years of seeing no color, he now saw the trail of tainted blood from Paul’s head not as a black streak but a bright scarlet ribbon, leading his gaze straight to the vampiress.

Impossible. Color and emotion would return to him now only if he found a lifemate. And there was no one here but the pitiful human Paul had attempted to turn. He looked at her, his heart heavy. He almost felt sorry for the poor woman. Again he was puzzled by this unexpected burst of sympathy, of emotion, after so many centuries, but he continued his inspection of the female. It was impossible to tell her age. She was small, almost childlike, but the suit she wore, as torn, wet, and dirty as it was, clung to full curves. Her legs were a mass of bloody welts, her mouth swollen and black with oozing blisters. Her hair, tangled with kelp, hung in a rank clump down her back to her waist. Her blue eyes held terror but also defiance.

She was going to kill the child. The rare woman could become Carpathian. Contrary to the popular myth, most human women could not be turned by a vampire without dire consequences. They immediately went insane and preyed on innocent children. This woman had suffered horribly. The ragged wounds on her neck gave evidence of the vampire’s hard usage of her, and the cuts on her wrists were cruelly deep.