Even his forearms, which she’d dug her fingernails into, were well defined. She could tell from the fluid way he moved that he wasn’t some steroidal bodybuilder. No, his muscles were honed from serious training. The thought of his nearly naked body covered in a sheen of sweat as he worked out flooded her mind.
Whooaaaa, Nelly. Back up for two seconds. She never fantasized about men. Ever.
A small pang hit her heart, equal parts pain and anger. Her thoughts traveled to B, the nameless hunter who’d stolen her heart, only to break it to pieces with his betrayal. She could admit a teenage girl had her needs, and she’d fantasized about meeting B in the flesh so many times that real men need not apply. She’d been solo since she was fifteen, when her brother had left home to hunt monsters, and without B in the picture, she intended to keep it that way. She didn’t need any distractions. Her one goal in life was to avenge her family, not snuggle up all lovey-dovey with some sweet guy, get married and have loads of chubby-faced cherubic babies. Not that Mr. Tall, Dark and Scary would ever fit that scenario, anyway. From the looks of things, he was a grade-A badass.
What was wrong with her? She needed to get back to Caius. If she disappeared for long enough, someone would come searching for her. Wasting time ogling a hot man wasn’t in the cards for tonight—for any night. Not while Caius lived and breathed. Besides which, she chastised herself, she didn’t know anything about this man. He’d held a knife to her throat, for God’s sake.
But when she met his cold ice-blue eyes she thought she could drown in their intensity. She wanted to run her hands over his black buzz-cut hair as he pushed inside her. The thought alone sent a wave of heat rushing between her legs and a jolt of electricity shooting down her spine.
A long silence passed between them as he watched her, those haunting blue eyes boring into her.
“I guess I’m not really in a position to bargain now, am I?” She tried to make it sound lighthearted in hopes that maybe he would release her.
He glared at her. His stare alone was enough to make her want to talk.
Clearly he wasn’t a vampire or he would have sunk his fangs into her throat by now. All her instincts said he didn’t intend to harm her, and no vampire would ever take a no-harm approach against someone who’d attacked him.
She cleared her throat. “One of us has to go first, and from your stiff upper lip, I can tell it’s not going to be you.” She sighed. “If I start talking, will you at least let me go?”
He didn’t reply. But the intensity of his gaze compelled her to confess.
She sighed again. “My name is Tiffany Solow, and I’m a vampire hunter.”
His brow furrowed, as if the words vampire hunter confused him. “A female hunter?”
She frowned. Nothing annoyed her more than men who thought women were incapable. She was certainly capable of taking care of herself and of killing supernaturally strong vampires to boot.
“Yeah, buddy. You have a problem with a little girl power?” She wasn’t weak. But this guy had the strength of a vampire and the training of an extremely professional hunter, not someone self-taught.
Could he be from...?
No. What were the chances of that?
His eyes widened before they narrowed again. “You’re alone? No one trained you?”
She nodded. “No one but my brother taught me, so, yeah, I’m solo. You know, Solow—like my last name.”
Usually that got at least a little bit of a chuckle out of people, but Mr. Tall, Dark and Scary didn’t so much as crack a grin.
He released her hands, still pinning her to the ground with the weight of his body. She tried not to think of the way his hips pushed against hers and the obvious thickness she felt beneath his belt buckle.
He shook his head. “You’re no hunter.”
She frowned. “Oh, yeah? And what qualifies you to make that judgment? I could say the same thing of you, after all.”
He shot her a look that said Don’t make me laugh. “Why are you here? Are you a Host?” A look of disgust crossed his face.
“Hell, no! I would never let those leeches feed off me. Don’t insult me.”
The side of his mouth twitched slightly at that. The closest he’d come thus far to a smile. Apparently he appreciated a hate for the undead.
“Caius wants me as a Host, but he’s not going to get me. Other than that, the reason I’m here is none of your damn business.”
He didn’t respond, only scanned the length of her body. Watching his irises as he drank her in was like watching fire flicker and blaze beneath crystals of ice. Breathtaking.
He wrenched his eyes away from her figure and met her gaze. “You’re right. It isn’t.”
She sucked in a deep breath and balled up the courage in her chest. She needed to push him, to challenge him, even though he had the advantage. “Why are you hunting on my turf?”
He ignored her question. His spine straightened, and she could practically see him training his senses on something like a lethal animal.
“What is this room usually used for?” he asked.
“What?”
He lowered his voice. “What is this room used for?”
She gaped. What the hell was he getting at? “Uh...I don’t know. I think people come in here to have sex and drink from their Hosts in private. But why—”
“Shhh.”
“Why are you hushing me? What the—”
He shoved his hand over her mouth to silence her, but with her hands now free she quickly wrenched it off. “No way are you shutting me up, buddy. I’m—”
Before she could comprehend what was going on, they were nose to nose. With gentle but strong movements, he cupped his hand behind her head and his soft lips met hers. All her thoughts came to a screeching halt as the force of his kiss overwhelmed her. His tongue moved against hers in a slow sensual rhythm as his warm body pressed against hers.
The sweet scent of his skin filled her nose like expensive aftershave and amazing, mind-blowing sex. Another wave of heat rushed to her core, and she felt herself buck against him. She didn’t even know his name, but her body was screaming in need for him. She’d never wanted anything, anyone, so badly in her life. Every inch of her skin was electrified as wave after wave of arousal rushed through her.
With soft smooth movements he lifted her so her torso was cradled in his arms while her hips were still pinned beneath his. The hard length of him pressed between her hips, and she felt herself slicken. No man had ever had such a powerful effect on her.
Somewhere in the distance, she was vaguely aware of the sound of an opening curtain.
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” an unknown voice said. “Didn’t know the room was taken.”
Within an instant, his lips were gone.
She gasped for air. The world spun, though he still held her in his arms. Cold air hit her lips, and her heart thumped hard as she longed for the warmth of his kiss to return. He lingered over her, his face barely inches away.
Slowly he released her and stood, walking to the other side of the room. Her head cleared. A distraction. He’d kissed her as a distraction. She’d said people had sex in the room, and someone had come in, so he’d deliberately given the impression that they were having sex. She exhaled a long breath to collect herself. Without his weight on her body, she felt strange and uneasy. Though she knew she shouldn’t, she wished the moment hadn’t ended.
Once she caught her breath she didn’t quite know what to say. Finally she managed to whisper the only words she could manage. “What’s your name?”
“Damon Brock.” His voice was cold and distant, no different from before.
Tiffany sat on the floor, completely stunned. Just like that, she’d had her first kiss ever, and from a tall handsome stranger.
CHAPTER 3
&nbs
p; Damon didn’t know what the hell had happened or why the fuck he’d chosen to kiss her....
He glanced down at Tiffany as she sat on the crimson carpeting, and his heart jumped. Her gorgeous hair was slightly ruffled from where his hand had cradled her head, and her bottom lip was flushed a brighter shade of pink where he’d gently suckled it. Shit, he had never intended the night to go this way.
When he’d heard the approaching footsteps and covering her mouth wouldn’t shut her up, well...he’d done the first thing that had come to mind. And damn if that hadn’t been a huge freaking mistake. If he’d wanted her before, now he wanted her tenfold. His body was begging for him to take her, to press her up against the wall and make love to her until she screamed. His thoughts raced. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never lost his head like this before. This was Mark’s baby sister!
He fought the temptation to curse under his breath. He needed to knock some sense into himself. But he wouldn’t lose his cool. Before he’d sworn himself to the Execution Underground, if there was one thing his father had taught him about being a hunter it was not to lose his cool. And he’d never had a hard time with that until tonight.
He hadn’t even been with Tiffany more than half an hour and she was already unraveling him, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let that get in the way of his job. He couldn’t.
He closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers in slow circles over his temples. There were six missing women out there, all probably dead, and who knew how many murdered and drained of their blood on the streets. It was his job to protect the future victims. The weight fell on his shoulders alone. He wouldn’t neglect his job, his sworn oath, for any woman, even Tiffany.
Not sure of what he was doing, he picked up his Desert Eagle and holstered the piece behind his back again.
Tiffany grabbed her Smith & Wesson from the floor, reloaded the magazine clip and stood.
He glanced at her, and his heart jumped into his throat. He had to get out of here, but he sure as hell couldn’t leave her behind.
She opened her mouth to speak. “I—”
He shook his head and cut her off. “You shouldn’t be dealing with these vampires. I won’t allow you to place yourself in danger like this.”
Her jaw dropped. She crossed her arms and fixed him with a hard stare. “Who do you think you are? Last time I checked, I didn’t wake up in the morning with the goal of pleasing random strangers. I’ll do whatever I damn well please.”
He should have expected her reaction. He just wasn’t used to dealing with women.
Damon fought the urge to throw her over his shoulder; he didn’t care if she kicked and screamed the whole way, nothing would stop him from protecting her. He exhaled a long breath. “This city isn’t safe for you. Six women are missing, and more have been murdered. I won’t have another death on my conscience because I let you waltz back into that club and play with murderers.”
Tiffany strode across the room to stand straight in front of him. The top of her head barely reached his pecs, but she glared at him as if she were seven foot two. She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Look, buddy, I’ve handled myself perfectly well for twenty-two years without any help from you, so I don’t care who you are, I’m not taking orders from you unless I damn well choose.” She jabbed at him with her finger again. “I’m a vampire hunter, not some tutu-wearing princess who needs to be rescued.”
Pushing past him, she stomped off toward the dance floor.
Just as stubborn as her older brother. Mark had always refused help when he’d needed it most.
Damon followed her. His eyes locked on to her figure as she nudged her way through the sweat-covered bodies on the dance floor. The pulsing red lights cast shadows on her hair, tinting it gorgeous shades of red and purple. Even from behind she was gorgeous. He pushed through the crowd until he reached her.
Before she knew he was there, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against his body. Using his leather jacket as a cover, he placed the Desert Eagle against her spine, leaned down and growled into her ear, “Walk toward the back door quietly and we won’t have a problem.”
“This is how you try to protect me?” she seethed.
Damon nudged her with his gun, and she walked forward. He battled the urge to suck on the delicate skin of her earlobe, to kiss his way down the length of her neck and collarbone. The smell of her skin was intoxicating. “I’d rather take you to the E.R. for a bullet wound than scrape your insides off the pavement because some demented vampire attacked you. At least with the gun you’d have a chance of survival.”
He forced her to march ahead of them until they reached the back of the club. He pushed open the door and corralled her into the dimly lit street alley. A burst of cold air hit his face, giving him the wake-up call he needed.
“Are you going to take the gun off me now?”
Without a word, Damon patted down the sides of her jacket and confiscated her Smith & Wesson. His hand slid over the stake inside her coat pocket.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? I thought you wanted to protect me.” The pitch of her voice dropped as her impatience rose.
He tucked the gun into his inside coat pocket. “I’ll let you keep the stake for protection, but I can’t have you wielding a gun at me.” He patted down her jacket again. “Any other weapons I should know about, or can I trust you?”
She didn’t answer. Her jaw clenched, and he could tell from her body language that she was seriously ticked off. Her expression made it very clear that she didn’t like being stripped of her weapons.
Damon lowered his gun.
She spun to face him. “You know—”
Before she could finish speaking he slung her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a feather from a very pissed-off eagle and jogged toward his gunmetal colored BMW Z4.
She kicked her feet and slammed her fists into his back, but he barely noticed. She yelled profanities at him the entire way to the car, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get her out of there. With the way Caius had been fixated on her, it wouldn’t be long before he questioned where she was, and he wasn’t going to be too happy about his dead bodyguard, either.
When they reached the Z4, Damon quickly hit the unlock button on his remote, wrenched open the door and dropped Tiffany, still kicking and screaming, into the passenger seat. He slammed the door. She shoved herself against it and beat against the window as he slid into the driver’s seat. Thank God for automatic locks and bulletproof glass. Standard issue from headquarters.
Within seconds he was shifting into Drive and stomping on the pedal. They zipped out of the alley at sixty miles per hour.
“What’s wrong with you?” Tiffany yelled. “Stripping me of my weapon and then throwing me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes? What are you? A caveman?”
He tried to tune her out, but it was no use. Damn him, he’d just sucked face with Mark’s little sister. But if he admitted it to himself, how many times had his thoughts wandered in that direction as he’d read Tiffany’s letters? Not while she’d been a teenager, but later, once she entered college, when the handful of years separating them hadn’t been as big a deal. Yeah, he’d wondered, all right.
“Hello!” She banged her fist on the dashboard. “This is the twenty-first century. This is called abduction, and in case you didn’t know, it’s illegal in every state!”
Damon growled, so low and throaty he surprised even himself. “Don’t.”
The tone of that one word shut her up.
He let out another grumble. “I’m trying to keep you safe, whether you like it or not. Sit back and put your seat belt on.”
Slowly she relaxed into her seat and clipped the seat belt into place. Damon sped toward the Golisano Hospital at full speed. The city lights and few people roaming the streets blurred as
they sped by. There was no way of knowing the next best move without seeing the victim. Crime scene photos never did the actual carnage justice, and now that he was on the scene he needed to see the details firsthand.
After several minutes of silence, Tiffany finally broke. “Why are you doing this? Why do you care about me?” She fixed him with a hard stare. “Why do you care if I die?”
Damon bit his tongue and concentrated on keeping his expression flat, distant. He couldn’t let her know who he was. If he did, she would hate him and never trust him to keep her safe. But he couldn’t avoid her questions for long.
“It’s my job,” he said.
She shook her head, clearly not buying that for a single minute. “What about the other humans in there? Isn’t it your job to keep them safe, too?”
He gritted his teeth. She’d hit him right where it hurt, but he would never let her know that. “I can’t save everyone.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you save the one person in the entire building who needs the least amount of saving?” He didn’t respond. She huffed. “That makes total sense.”
He shot her an icy stare. “That sort of attitude is exactly why you need saving. You’re not invincible.”
She scoffed. “Neither are you.” She yanked up the sleeve of his leather coat. “See, I jabbed you right...” Her voice trailed off as she ran her fingers over his skin.
Electricity shot through his limbs. One small caress and she could bring him to his knees. He clenched his teeth. Everything in him fought against that knowledge. He couldn’t grant her power over him.
She stared at his forearm. The wounds had already begun to heal. The only remaining signs were several pink crescent-shaped scars, which at this rate would soon disappear.
Her eyes widened. “What are you?”
* * *
Tiffany stared at Damon’s arm. Her fingernails had dug deep into his skin not even half an hour earlier, and already the healed wounds were nothing but faint pink lines and some residual dried blood. She ran her fingers over the skin once more. Desire pulsed through her every time her skin connected with his. Her nipples hardened into taut peaks as she brushed the muscles of his forearms. She wanted to touch him all over. Run her hands up his thick biceps and onto his chest, down to places where she’d never touched a man before. The thought of their kiss lingered in her mind. She didn’t care that he’d only done it out of necessity. Her lips burned with the need to touch his again.
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