by Trina M. Lee
Once Bitten
Book One of the Alexa O’Brien, Huntress series
Trina M. Lee
© 2009
Once Bitten
Book One of the Alexa O’Brien, Huntress series
Trina M. Lee
Published 2009
ISBN 978-1-59578-537-4
Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2009, Trina M. Lee. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Liquid Silver Books
http://LSbooks.com
Email:
[email protected]
Editor
Leigh Hogan
Cover Artist
Dawn Seewer
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Blurb
Alexa O’Brien is a professional huntress and a werewolf with the ability to conduct and manipulate metaphysical energy. When she is inexplicably drawn to the enigmatic vampire Arys Knight, the dangerous power they create together becomes more than either of them anticipated. As a result of their actions Alexa risks the loss of more than her remaining humanity, she risks losing the very person who holds her heart, Shaz Richardson.
When her former lover and Alpha pack member Raoul is framed for murder, he comes to her for help and Alexa is forced to face past emotions and betrayals that were never laid to rest. As the murders continue she is torn between past hurts and present loves. Amidst the rush of power and the struggle for control, Alexa must dig deep within herself to discover where her heart truly belongs. As secrets are revealed and lies exposed, she comes to discover that not everyone is who you think they are and the greatest loves are undying.
Chapter One
Dusk, it’s my favorite time of day: the perfect in-between time where day meets night for a few fleeting moments. The sky was too dark to feel like daytime yet not dark enough to be called night; it was, however, dark enough for vampires. This would have been the perfect evening to gossip over specialty coffee or take a stroll on the beach.
Instead, here we were about to execute yet another vampire.
The hour was still early; the sun hadn’t fully settled beyond the horizon. Brilliant pink faded softly into orange across the western sky. The mosquitoes were beginning to make their evening appearance, and I swatted at one that buzzed around my face.
The name on the file folder read Patrick Morgan, but I happened to know that was just one of his many aliases. Most vampires had a handful of identities. They needed to, after so many years of existence. Richard King was the name last used by Morgan. He recently used it to purchase a new house in the hills, a millionaire estate. When we’d obtained the address and gone in, he’d been nowhere to be found. His victim, however, was.
She’d been tied up in a windowless, basement room right where he’d left her.
Unfortunately, he’d left her too long. The days-old corpse was a completely putrid, bloodless mess. A self-made torture device held the mutilated remains in a grotesque, unnatural position. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
Obviously, Morgan wasn’t killing solely for survival; he was old enough to go without feeding for days at a time. He was a sick, twisted vampire who had most likely been a sick, twisted human. I was looking forward to taking this one out.
I sat with my associate and friend, Jez St. Claire. When she’d learned that Morgan’s youngest victim had been thirteen, she had insisted on joining this hunt. She grew up as a child of abuse, so she lived out a personal vendetta every time she took out a monster like him.
We lounged on the outdoor patio of a gourmet coffee shop in downtown Edmonton.
From our seats, we had a perfect view of the hotel where Morgan was tracked to last night. We would see him the moment he stepped out the door.
The conflicting energy, generated by the humans who sat at the tables around us, nagged at me. Although I could feel and manipulate that energy, my attempts to buffer the sensations failed to block them entirely. I still hadn’t mastered my life as the only living werewolf with metaphysical abilities so close to that of a vampire.
“So, Morgan went in there at 5:47am and has not yet come out,” Jez read as she perused our most recent update. “Alexa, are you listening to me?” Her green feline eyes glanced up at me from the paper before straying appreciatively to two college-aged girls, who clicked by in their high heels and short skirts. Her cat-like pupils were tiny slits as she blinked into the sun’s final rays.
I loved to watch people’s faces when they suddenly notice her eyes. She was the only naturally born shifter that I’d ever known and one of only two werecats. Almost all Weres, like me, are infected through bite or attack. Of course, that was only if they managed to survive, which wasn’t likely. I was a teenaged kid lucky enough to survive an attack. I was the only one in my family who did.
Growing up with a thirst for the hunt and a need for the kill hadn’t been easy. The man, to whom I’d looked for guidance, had been too wrapped up in his own selfabsorbed world to notice that I needed him to teach me. Raoul Roberts had taken me in when I was sixteen after picking up my scent in the town library and tracking me down.
Despite successfully earning rank of Alpha female among my local town pack, I’ve done my best to cut ties with my former Alpha.
The title of Alpha had earned me little, least of all respect. Based on dominance and power, my status did little more than provide minimal dominance over new werewolves.
We were people first, and the animal hierarchy only crossed so far into our human world.
When I’d been unable to resist the need to hunt bigger game than animals, I ditched my job in my town’s local hotspot nightclub and became an independent assassin, or as I like to think of it, a professional huntress. Much like humans police one another with societal laws and punishments, so the supernatural world must also police one another. If we wish to continue our co-existence among humans as supposedly fictional beings, then those ferals who threaten to expose us all with their thoughtless actions must be exterminated.
Within a year, I was approached by Veryl Armstrong, paranormal investigator and vampire extraordinaire. He was looking for skill, and I was open to hearing his offer.
Veryl had asked how I felt about taking out one of my own kind, a werewolf who liked little girls. I would have done it for free. I worked regularly with Veryl and developed partnerships with a few of the six others, who frequently supplied him with their services.
It just made sense to have someone as ruthless as me at my back. Hesitators wouldn’t keep me alive while hunting rogues like Morgan.
Jez continued reviewing the case. “According to Kale, that’s the last time Morgan was seen before sunrise.” I sipped my sinfully sweet Café Mocha but never once took my eyes off the hotel. “Too bad we couldn’t go in during the day.” Jez stirred more sugar into her already sweetened caramel coffee, and I shuddered. “But, I guess I’d rather have the bastard awake while we gut him.”
“We’re gutting him now?” I asked as I pulled a strand of gold-streaked ash blonde hair from the corner of my mouth.
“Why not? If we’re lucky, he’ll live through most of it.” She smiled then and narrowed her eyes on the hotel door.
I shook my head and laughed. “You can do whatever your little heart desires, Jez. Just let me know whe
n to stake him.”
“Stake him? That’s so fast and easy though. We should torture him like he tortured all of those innocent girls. Make the bastard beg for death.”
I smiled in response to the vicious expression on her small, doll-like features.
“Torture’s not quite my style. Not yet, anyway.”
Morgan would have been much easier to take out during the day, less of a fight.
However, a daytime kill inside the hotel would be too great a risk. The last thing we needed was unnecessary attention.
“Did Kale say anything else? Like what time this guy heads out?” I asked.
Jez tapped her fingers impatiently on the table and gave her long leopard yellow ponytail a toss. “It should be anytime now.”
She’d barely gotten the words out when Patrick Morgan strode out the front door.
We both tensed. Vampires, like humans, have varying levels of psychic ability. I couldn’t be sure of his talents.
He stood outside and surveyed the passersby; he wore a ball cap, jeans, and plain white t-shirt. From this distance, I didn’t think he would be able to detect us by scent; he was up wind.
“Let’s go,” Jez said, starting to rise. “I don’t want to lose him.”
I was content to follow her lead and dropped a few bucks on the table to cover our tab. Rather than go out through the café and risk losing him, we simply hopped the small patio fence. A lady at a nearby table shot us a dirty look.
The warm July night was a perfect evening to be out. We followed Morgan as he walked steadily down the street, away from us. We kept a safe distance, about half a city block, behind him. He walked with a sense of determination and purpose.
“He seems to know where he’s going,” Jez commented. She dug in her shoulder bag for car keys.
“According to Kale, he’s watching two different women. He actually just sits outside the house. …Keeping tabs on them I guess,” I said. Stalking was certainly odd behavior for a vampire, much more natural to a human.
“Oh, that’s not at all disturbing.” She wrinkled her pert nose in distaste and spoke with sarcasm thick in her tone. “What a creep.”
“Maybe you should go for the Jeep. It looks like he might be grabbing a cab…”
Before I could finish the sentence, Jez nearly crashed into a man walking behind us and sprinted back the way we’d come. Between her training and her felinity, the girl was fast.
I stood at the street corner and watched Morgan ride off in a taxi. Jez raced up beside me in her slightly beat up, white Jeep Liberty. I actually took a few steps back as she screeched to a halt beside me.
“That one,” I said and pointed to Morgan’s cab. With Jez driving, I hurriedly fastened my seatbelt.
We pulled into traffic, a few car lengths back, and tailed the taxi across the river that divides the north and south sides of the city. After crossing the river, the taxi continued through party central. Lined with nightclubs of all kinds, the strip was no stranger to trouble. However, Morgan had no interest in the strip tonight, and the yellow-checkered taxi continued on deeper south.
“Do you think he knows he’s being followed?” Jez asked.
“No, I don’t think he has a clue he’s being tailed. I don’t give him that much credit.”
Distracted by the terrible traffic, she added, “Shit, the cab’s exiting.”
We had to shift lanes quickly. The cab led us onto the freeway ramp that would take us into the millionaire section of town. I guessed where we were headed. “He’s going back to Riverbend,” I said. “I wonder if he’s going back to get rid of that body.”
“I doubt it. He must know it’s been found by now.” Jez maneuvered the Jeep so that one car separated us from the cab.
Morgan didn’t go back to the house where we’d found the girl; he got out in a totally different neighborhood, one that was just as rich as Riverbend.
“So the creep likes to mess with spoilt, little, rich chicks,” Jez said, echoing my thought. “I wonder what brought that on.”
“I don’t want to know.”
We drove down the block and passed Morgan; he walked quickly down the street and turned down an intersecting road. We parked a few houses down and waited. A minute later, he passed us, slinking along beneath the cover of nightfall.
Jez pulled on her sweater, and I double-checked my weapons. We didn’t usually need the added gear, but I preferred the option. I carried an eight-inch stake that I’d carved myself and a good blade in my boot. I didn’t do guns; a handgun wouldn’t stop a supernatural. I pulled my hood up to cover my blonde hair, and Jez secured a large silver blade at her wrist and another in her left boot. We were ready to roll.
Even though vampires themselves have little scent, our sensitive noses had no trouble picking up the traces of cologne and cigarettes on his clothing. Two blocks down, we followed his scent into an alley. Backyards ran along both sides, most of them fenced.
We moved slow and silent, careful not to round a bend and run right into him. The scent of dog reached me, and I crossed my fingers that somebody’s Rover wasn’t going to give us away.
When we could visibly see Morgan again, he was just closing the gate to a house a few hundred yards away. He didn’t look up or down the alley. Instead, he went right up to the house.
“He’s making this too easy,” Jez breathed. I nodded and pushed ahead. I didn’t want to let him out of my sight.
We silently approached the yard that he’d entered; he hadn’t gotten much further.
The vampire had crept along the side of the house until he could peek into a window. I flashed a look at Jez who wore a similar one of disgust. If we could somehow take him down before he got inside…
I lifted my hand to the gate latch but hesitated. Would it make that typical metal on metal screech? He’d definitely hear that. However, he stared into the window so intently that I doubted he would notice if we walked right up and joined him. In one fast, fluid motion, I popped the latch. He didn’t even look up. I took that to indicate that he wasn’t playing with a full deck.
We stayed tight against the house after entering the yard. Only one corner separated us from the vampire.
The pop, as he broke the window latch, spurred me into action. I sprang around the corner, which startled Morgan; he stumbled back from the house. He looked at me with eyes as wide as saucers for a second before recovering.
“What the hell?” He looked me up and down before a lecherous smile spread across his gaunt face.
“Patrick Morgan,” I said. “You’ve been a bad, bad vampire.” For a split second, a shadow of unease passed through his brown eyes. He looked from me to Jez who stepped up beside me.
“What is this? The werewolf police?” He sniffed lightly in our direction before narrowing his gaze on Jez. “You’re not a werewolf. What is that?”
“I doubt it matters,” she replied. “You don’t have enough time left to waste wondering.”
“Oh yeah?” The smile never left his scruffy features. “Come on then, baby. Gimme what you’ve got. I’d love to play with you before I play with her.” He nodded towards the window.
“Not likely. I’m not into pathetic little boys.”
He was expecting us to rush him in some embarrassingly weak assault. Instead, I drew energy from the earth at my feet. He didn’t anticipate my energy attack. With a snap of my fingers, I launched enough raw energy at him to take down a horse. The blast threw him back against the neighboring fence with a wood-shattering racket. I focused hard to keep him pinned.
His delayed response came in full force. I’d expected retaliation, but when his power cut through me, I knew I’d underestimated him. His energy felt like searing heat. It slashed at me, forced me to my knees, and destroyed my link to the earth.
Jez was a blur of black as she moved with supernatural speed. I don’t think Morgan realized he’d been impaled until the hilt of the knife was pressed against him; she’d buried the blade at the base of his th
roat. However, that wouldn’t kill him until she had cut his damned head off.
Blood poured from the wound. Jez continued to wiggle and grind the blade. The vampire struggled to speak through crimson lips as blood flowed out of his mouth.
“Do you like that?” Jez growled into his face.
Her golden hair had fallen free of the hood; her brilliant green eyes were pure cat.
Morgan just stared into those slit pupils in horror. I guessed that he’d never encountered a werecat before. They weren’t nearly as common as werewolves.
I’d recovered from his blow, and I threw up an energy circle to ward off another, though I didn’t expect one considering his sudden lack of focus. He just stared into Jez like she was the angel of death who had come at last, and I realized that a part of him was enjoying this.
I readied myself, stake in hand. The weapon gave me a nice alternative to fangs and claws; I didn’t want to touch the guy. I had no desire to feel the energy and aura of someone so disturbed.
“You like this, don’t you, you sick son of a bitch? Just like you enjoy cutting up pretty, little, rich girls while you drain them dry.” Jez’ right hand gripped the knife, and her left sprouted five perfect, razor-sharp claws. Morgan made a series of grunts and gurgles, but nothing coherent came out. He reached up with a strong hand for her throat, and she drove those claws into his guts.
This was getting too messy. I moved in and pinned the vampire, as well as I could one-handed.
He fought hard now; he struggled against us furiously. I guess the game had lost its appeal. He didn’t want to play anymore. Now it was a fight for his so-called life. With a sudden burst of combined physical and mental strength, he flung us both backwards.
He came at me then as he pulled the knife from his throat with a slick, wet sound. A sickening laugh bubbled out from around the gushing wound.