Free Last Vamp Standing by Kristin Miller

scouts, not guards. Once they didn’t report back to his office, there’d be more therians thundering down on their heads.
    He needed to get Ariana out of here. Again. It occurred to Dante that this was the second time in two nights that he’d have to teleport her to safety out of the black market. Two too many for his taste. She should’ve stayed in the forest where he’d left her. And he should’ve stayed home and told Ruan to take a hike.
    But what burned Dante most was that he’d told Ariana he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. He didn’t have a clue why he’d said it. It’d slipped out. For some reason Dante couldn’t explain, Ariana seemed to bring out the protective side of him.
    Now, because she’d trusted his words—and really shouldn’t have—she was hurt.
    If Dante didn’t know better he’d think the pinching in his gut was guilt.
    “Is your leg all right?” He stripped out of his coat and tossed it aside. Then ripped the sleeve off his shirt and tied it around Ariana’s calf to stop the bleeding.
    Her blood smelled sugary sweet. Like no scent he’d ever picked up before. Although Dante didn’t need blood to survive, he found certain varieties of the red ooze to be refreshing. With one whiff of the blood flowing through Ariana’s veins, Dante’s mouth watered.
    The cat diced her good. Looked like its nails stabbed right into the bone. Although vamps healed fast, they still experienced pain. And her wound was downright mangled.
    “It’ll be fine,” she said, scooting up to a sitting position. Her chestnut hair was twisted into a braid and draped over her shoulder, ratted and falling loose. The glimmer in her eyes had simmered from rich honey to doe brown. Her gaze reached through the space between them and shrank the skin over his bones. “I’ll be fine as soon as I get out of here.”
    She was either tough as nails or pretending to be. Either way, Dante knew a handful of males who couldn’t take a hit like that.
    “Why’d you come back?” Dante asked, checking the hall. “You should’ve stayed in your haven.”
    Ariana started to speak when Ruan kneeled beside her, smiling one of those perfect, illuminating smiles that made Dante want to throw up in his mouth.
    “I’m Ruan,” he said and stuck out his hand.
    Ariana eyed him skeptically but shook his hand anyway. “Ariana.”
    “We work together,” Dante said, hoping to clarify their situation as he put pressure on her wound.
    Ariana wouldn’t help unless she trusted them—he knew that much about her already. Bitter truth was, between Ruan and Dante, only one of them could be trusted through and through. The blood trickling from her leg proved stone from sour.
    “And hopefully you’ll be able to work with us, too,” Ruan said, leaving their side to check the chamber across the hall. “Thanks, by the way.”
    “I’ll . . .” Ariana’s gaze concentrated on Dante. “. . . what ?”
    Damn it.
    Dante had been thrown off guard seeing Ariana in the chamber and had forgotten to tell her about their situation. About how they needed the help of an elder to show them the way to the haven—her haven. And he hadn’t asked a thing about Black Moon or what the fabled haven could do for the vamps roaming Crimson Bay.
    He told Ruan from the get-go that he wasn’t going to be much help.
    His uselessness was epic.
    “Come on, let’s get you up.” Cradling an arm beneath Ariana, Dante lifted her to her feet.
    “I don’t need your help,” she said, removing his arm. “I told you I’d be fine.”
    Putting up his hands, Dante drew back. But in a heartbeat, her entire body trembled, wobbling as if she’d fall against the wall. On instinct, Dante wrapped an arm around her, supporting her weight. He could’ve sworn Ariana wavered . . . but not physically. It was the strangest feeling. One he couldn’t describe. Almost like she weakened, melted, flowing into him.
    Dante was still shaking off the eerie feeling when sirens