Chapter 12
Danton
She was the same girl. He didn't know what to make of that.
He didn't know what to make of that with his head. His cock knew exactly what to make of it.
Why her? Why did she affect him that way? Did human females have a sort of pheromone too?
She was smaller than he remembered. Smaller than any of the women they'd rounded up.
Standing in front of him with her chin up and her hands zip-tied behind her back, she looked like she wanted to spit in his face.
Maybe kick him in the throat. She'd tried that already, when he grabbed her off the bike.
Almost connected, too. Fast little thing.
The star on her shoulder. He could see the edge of it where her jacket had torn.
The same star. The same girl who'd raised her middle finger to a Vampyren patrol convoy without breaking stride.
He'd thought about that for days afterward.
Not the insult — he barely registered human gestures.
But the sheer recklessness. The refusal to cower when every other human on that street had pressed themselves against the walls and looked at the ground.
She wasn't looking at the ground now.
Her eyes were dark and furious and he could smell her from here.
Not just sweat and adrenaline and the faint copper of blood from a scrape on her temple.
Something underneath that. Something that made his pulse kick and his hands tighten on his weapon and his thoughts scatter in directions that had nothing to do with conquest or duty.
No one answered his questions because no one was near them and Danton was tempted to let her go. Release her and tell her to run far away and not come back because if she did he'd kill her.
He could do it. The others were occupied, hauling the rest of the women from the theater into the waiting transports.
The street was chaos — soldiers shouting, vehicles idling, the sharp ozone smell of discharged laser rifles mixing with the smoke from a fire someone had started in the parking structure. No one was watching him.
One cut. Zip ties on the ground. Walk away.
And then what? She'd be picked up within the hour. Humans couldn't move through the metro at night without being stopped, not a young woman alone, not with blood on her face and rebellion in every line of her body.
She'd be worse off. Caught running after being released. They'd assume she had help from inside. They'd question her until she broke or died, and she'd never be able to give them his name because she didn't know it.
Maybe she'd go. She seemed pretty stubborn.
Stubborn enough to get herself killed.
And even as he thought of it, Lan returned, the Jeep pulling up beside them.
"Take her in," Danton growled, thrusting her forward with his hands on her shoulders. That would get her out of his hair, and he could go back to the uncomplicated pride in position and loyalty to leaders that had so simplified his last few days.
Lan shook his head. "She's your capture. Take credit. We'll switch. You take the Jeep. I'll take your bike. We can load hers in there."
Though what good it would do anyone Danton couldn't say. The girl was tiny even for human standards. Her bike would just collapse under a Vampyren. But they made the trade. She was silent once he belted her into the passenger's seat and for the entire ride to the school where they'd headquartered.
He found himself wishing she'd speak.
The bruise on her temple was darkening in the green glow of the dashboard. Her hands were still bound behind her. She sat perfectly still, looking straight ahead, and the only thing that moved was her jaw, clenching and unclenching.
He had the irrational urge to tell her it would be all right.
He didn't. Because it wouldn't be.