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Pushing his desire aside, he took off, but once airborne he saw two police cars, lights flashing, driving down a street—a street that led to the park.
Thinking it might have something to do with the weres, and feeling a bit bad he hadn’t checked things out earlier that night, Chase shot forward, hoping to get a peek of what trouble transpired before the cops arrived.
From his not-so-good vantage point, he spotted and smelled the trouble. Weres. Definitely weres, or at least part weres. A group of them. He thought he counted six—no, eight—all going against one. He inhaled and instantly knew a couple of those guys were the same ones he’d come across earlier. Another deep breath and his nose picked up the scent of a vampire. The victim, maybe? Then the scent exploded in his brain, and went right to his heart. The air in his chest froze.
“Friggin’ hell!” he seethed, and prayed he wasn’t too late.
Chapter Nine
A few feet from the struggle, Chase saw Della was still standing. Bleeding, but standing. And the smell of his bondmate’s blood made him thirsty for more blood. With a growl that came from his soul, he tossed them away from Della two at a time. Their bodies landed among the trees, one even getting caught on the limbs of a pine.
Still caught up in the chaos of the fight, Della clipped him in the jaw. It hurt like hell, but he didn’t budge. “It’s me.” Chase tried to reach for her but she backed away, fist still swinging.
All of a sudden, recognition hit her expression. “I thought—” Her breath caught and she wiped a hand over her lip and smeared blood across her cheeks.
“Are you okay?” he asked, air still trapped in his chest, fury still making his blood burn and his eyes bright.
“I could have taken care of it myself,” she snapped.
The fact that she still had her pride intact told him she was okay. “Yeah, but I didn’t want you to have all the fun.” Sirens filled the night and blue lights flashed through the trees. The sounds of cars screeching to a halt at the park’s edge echoed.
“We gotta go!” he said and smiled. She didn’t take flight. He heard the footsteps fast approaching and rushed forward, caught her by the waist, pulled her against him—where she felt so damn right—and took off into the dark sky. They were barely above the trees when he heard cops yelling at the weres.
She fought him for a fraction of a second.
Looking down, she must have spotted the police. She remained silent, her body so close to his, and his heart thumping at the closeness as he flew them farther away. God help him, but he could swear her heart was racing faster than his.
Was it because of him, or was she still reacting to the threat of the fight?
“Land,” she finally seethed.
“Just a little farther.” He savored the closeness and he pressed his face into the curve of her neck. The sweet scent of her skin and her shampoo filled his nose.
Knowing she wouldn’t tolerate it much longer, he landed in an alley, a block from her house.
She ran from his arms as soon as their feet hit the ground. Swinging around, she stared at him with bright eyes. “Where’s Feng?”
He inhaled and tried to convince himself that some of her anger was residual, left over from the fight. “I don’t know.”
“Because you told him not to tell you?”
He almost denied it, but he was tired of lying to her. “Yes. Feng didn’t kill her, Della. I’m going to find the person who did. And I’m going to get your dad off.”
Della just stared, hurt reflecting in her eyes. “Why doesn’t my uncle come in and talk if he’s innocent?” Unable to stop himself, he reached up to push back a strand of her dark hair. She stopped him with a raised hand, but he noticed the bruises on both her knuckles and her face.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” The desire to race back and hurt the bastards who’d hurt her burned in his gut.
“I asked you a question!” She inched closer, her eyes a bright green.