Free Tempted by the Night by Colleen Gleason Page B

tottered into view from behind a cluster of trees…only yards from Luke and Marisa. The monster was followed by three of his companions. Their orange eyes burned with need and desperation as they staggered closer, moaning for rrrruuuuuuttttthhhhhh.
    Marisa’s breathing caught up to her, and she began to tremble. Luke curved an arm around her, shielding her with his body. They smell us. They know we’re here.
    Juniper began to edge toward the protective fence, but Zoë and Marck merely looked at the monsters. “You or me, joker?” she asked finally, as the stench of rotting flesh came very close on a sudden waft of breeze. By now, Luke could see the outlines of the nearest creature’s hair, long and shaggy, and the sharp points of his overgrown fingernails.
    For a moment he considered bolting out and taking his chances with Ian Marck.
    â€œGo ahead,” said the bounty hunter to the archer. “I know how you like to show off.”
    He’d hardly spoken when an arrow whizzed through the air, landing dead center in the nearest monster’s forehead. The once-human creature dropped to the ground with a thud that sent up a puff of dust, and the two coming up behind him couldn’t stop in time. In a horrible parody of a clown act, they stumbled, staggered, and finally tripped over their companion.
    Not too smart—or coordinated—were those zombies.
    It would take them some time to figure out how to pull to their feet, likely pulling each other down in the process. But the danger was not yet over, for once they managed to become upright, their fury and determination would be stoked hotter.
    Marisa was still trembling, but now her eyes were wide and white as she gaped at Luke, and then back toward Zoë and her arrows.
    But before the woman could loose a second spear, Ian Marck held up a purple light. It sent out sizzling red sparks, which had the zombies freezing in their struggles to stand. Their moans died away as if strangled into silence.
    â€œGot a new toy, Ian?” asked Zoë. “I’ve only seen you with an orange light. You and your fuck-headed father.” When Marck didn’t deign to respond and merely held the light high enough that the zombies began to shield their eyes from it, she turned back to him. “There’s no one around here but me. I’m real damn sorry to disappoint you, joker.”
    He gave a short laugh. “There was only that one kiss, Zoë, but I have to agree—it was a disappointment.”
    â€œYeah, right,” she snorted. “Dickwad. As if I’d let you put your shit-stained, murderous hands on me. You’re not my damned type.”
    â€œThank God for that.”
    â€œI know your type, Ian. She has a bloody fucking crystal embedded in her skin, doesn’t she?”
    Even from a distance, Luke saw how Ian stiffened as if caught utterly off guard…then immediately recovered. “In your immortal words: as if .”
    â€œSo you thought you were tracking Luke Desmond?” Hey. How did she know his name? “But it was really just my tight, perky ass you and your douchebag friend were sniffing around, looking for. Like I said, you’re getting soft. And slow.”
    â€œI coulda swore it was two people I saw,” Juniper whined.
    â€œCrap on a cross, where the hell’d you find this asswad?” Zoë said to Ian. “I ought to take him down for implying I’m big enough to pass for two.”
    â€œFor all I know, you were meeting someone here. Desmond, maybe?” said Marck.
    â€œI could have been, I suppose. If you really think I’d be working with someone, instead of alone like I always have and always will…but even if I were, joker, whoever that fool was’d be long gone by now. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to take a nap or something—he’d’ve retrieved his pack and got his sorry, saggy ass the damn hell away from here.”
    Luke