The Missing

holding on like he was some teddy bear warding off the boogeyman, and in the next, she was stiff in his arms and sucking in air like a drowning woman. Her body shuddered, and then she pushed against his arms. “You’re going to crush me, Cullen.”

    He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Damn it, you keep scaring me like that, I’m going to die of a heart attack before I turn forty.” But he did let go, slowly, reluctantly. She tried to stand up, but her legs wobbled, and Cullen had a feeling she wouldn’t make it ten feet without hitting the sand. Pushing to his feet, he gathered up her clothes. After tucking them into her arms, he lifted her. “You need to lie down,” he said softly.

    But Taige had other plans. “No. We need to leave. He’s at the cabin, or he’s going there.” Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “At least what’s left of the cabin—no telling how much of it Jones has torn down to get to the bodies.”

    The need for vengeance warred with the need to take care of Taige. Her hands shoved against his chest, but it was pitiful how weak she was. Under normal circumstances, if Taige wanted to be put down, he’d have a fight on his hands, and chances were, he could easily lose that fight. At the moment, she’d have a hard time holding her own against a kitten.

    Physically.

    The look in her eyes was one of sheer stubbornness, and Cullen knew that if he let her, she’d take off on her own and keep going until she collapsed. She was just that determined. If he wasn’t so damned worried she’d end up passing out on him and scaring him to death, he’d go along with her just fine.

    But . . .

    Her eyes, once more that soft, misty gray, narrowed, and her pretty mouth flattened out into a tight, thin line. “Damn it, Cullen. You’re wasting time. We don’t have much as it is.” Fisting a hand in his shirt, she gave him a fierce stare and said, “I am fine . Okay?”

    “You’re not fine,” Cullen argued. The last rays of sunlight were fading fast, but he could still see how pale and wan she’d become. “You’re almost as pale as I am. Hell, you probably can’t even walk to the house on your own two feet.”

    Her lids flickered. “I don’t need to walk to the cabin. And it’s a good three hours north. By the time we get there, I’ll be steady.”

    “And if you’re not?”

    “If we don’t go now , it’s not going to matter. Because he isn’t going to be there.”

    Cullen gave in. He guessed there hadn’t ever been doubt on that. Between the need for blood and the innate desire to do whatever Taige asked of him, Cullen didn’t even have a fighting chance. They were out of the house before another twenty minutes had passed. She’d insisted on changing, and Cullen watched over her protectively, ready to catch her if she looked the least bit unsteady.

    Never happened. Although he’d carried her to the house, by the time they walked out the front door, her color had improved, and she moved with that easy, confident grace that he remembered from years before.

    Steady, she’d said.

    Hell. She was going to be steadier than he was, that was for damn certain.

TEN

    Too late.

    They were still a good twenty miles away when the skin on Taige’s spine went tight. Too late. He was gone. She couldn’t explain how she knew, but by the time they got to the cabin, he would be long gone.

    And there would probably be no trace left behind. Again. Somehow this guy managed to wipe the slate clean, psychically speaking, and she’d get nothing. None of those intangible little vibes that she couldn’t see or feel, but which existed nonetheless.

    Useless—

    She blocked that out. If she started swimming in guilt or self-doubt, she’d be of no use to anybody. So, instead of dwelling on that old bullshit, she closed her eyes and reached out. It didn’t come so easily this time.

    Sometimes the gray came on her like a summer storm, quick, violent, and all-encompassing. Other times, it was like a heat mirage, wavering and unclear. Right now, it was like trying to push her way through quicksand. It came, but there was a reluctance to it, and the vision that had been so clear just a few hours ago was now murky.

    There was nothing definitive this time. Reaching out, she tried to connect with her prey, and there was, for just a second, a brief connection. Tenuous at best and too weak to sustain contact. Even as she tried to strengthen the connection, it faltered and faded.

    It left