Blood Deep. Sharon Page

said. “Let us get you some dinner.”

      “What do you plan to do to me? If you intend to kill me, why feed me?”

      A stage arrived, rushing into the yard before Zayan answered. He watched it in a pensive silence. The grooms jumped down, the doors opened. Boxes were thrown down as the people began to spill out. Other grooms hurried forward to unhitch the horses.

      And others rushed forward to greet friends and to make ready to take their journey.

      Was he watching to choose his victim? She had to act. She turned and pointed across the yard. “Look! Our carriage is leaving! It must be Lukos!”

      As Zayan spun around, she pulled away from him as hard as she could. His surprise—and anger—had loosened his grip. Her pelisse tore, but she was free!

      She yanked up her hems and plunged into the crowd.

      “’Ere miss, have a care!”

      Someone elbowed her in the back. She tripped, almost fell, but grabbed a man’s coat to stop herself. She stumbled forward.

      She heard a roar behind her. That must be Zayan and she cringed, waiting for a bolt of his magical power to strike her.

      A man shouted. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man sail backward off his feet and land hard in the mud.

      Zayan wasn’t using magic.

      She squeezed and pushed her way between bodies.

      Someone shoved her forward and she slammed against the side of the stage. Her wind flew out of her chest. Gasping, she raced around the large vehicle.

      What was she going to do? She couldn’t outrun a vampire. Could she leap into a passing carriage? Three were leaving and she raced blindly toward them.

      “There’s been a boy trampled!” someone shouted. “My god!”

      Standing still amidst the cries of shock and horror, Miranda slowly turned toward the gathering crowd. She could not just run away now. She had to do something. Shivering, glancing around for Zayan, she made her way to the circle of people who were all trying to crush forward, to see. She had to elbow her way between these heartless people. They weren’t doing anything, they were feeding on horror and disaster like a vampire fed on blood. And it was like trying to fight a raging current.

      “Move,” she commanded one man. She had to kick another to get him to jump aside. Through the gap between bodies, she saw a tiny form sprawled in the dirt and a woman leaning over him, screaming, tears streaking down her face.

      She had to act now. She didn’t have much time.

      From behind her, a hand clamped down on her right wrist, holding her captive. “Got you, you witch,” a man growled.

      That voice. She recognized it. Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. Miranda twisted to meet the hard gaze of James Ryder—the vampire slayer who wanted to kill her.