The Hunters Series

by Shiloh Walker

  He shifted a little, lifted his head away from the woman in his arms. The lighting in that alley was too damn dim but Sara was used to it. These freaks never made a move unless it was someplace dark and shadowy. Through her night-vision binoculars, Sara watched as the woman unbuttoned the man’s shirt, pressed her lips to his bared chest.

  The man’s head fell back and Sara grinned with feral satisfaction as his lips parted, revealing exactly what she’d suspected.

  Two sharp, ivory fangs.

  “Got you,” she muttered, snapping a picture and then setting the binoculars aside and lifting her crossbow. The woman was about to get a very rude awakening but Sara figured it was better the woman see somebody get shot in front of her than have some bloodsucker drain her dry.

  Behind her, the wind kicked up. Her ears caught a strange rustling sound, a quiet, muffled thump–and then she heard a voice. A familiar voice.

  “Not a good idea, Sara.”

  She spun around, keeping the crossbow aimed and ready, as she faced a man she hadn’t seen in since she walked out of his hotel room last year. Wyatt Cooper. Blood rushed to her face and a sick sensation of panic exploded inside her.

  Stunned, she blinked and squinted at him in the thin light, but there was no mistaking that face. With her heart racing, she lowered the crossbow to her side. “Wyatt?”

  He glanced over her shoulder and she had the weirdest sensation that he knew exactly what she’d been doing. Her heart kicked up a few beats, slamming away at her chest wall with a force that left her breathless.

  A faint grin tugged at his lips and he said, “Fancy running into you here.” His gaze lingered on her crossbow. “Weird place for target practice.”

  “Ahhhh...”

  “I seem to recall you being a bit more talkative than this.” He cocked his head, still watching her with that faint, almost amused smile on his lips.

  “Yeah, well, you caught me a little off guard. What are you doing here?”

  Wyatt shrugged. The cold wind’s knife edge didn’t seem to bother him as it blew his hair back from his face.

  He looked incredibly out of place, she realized, but Wyatt was the kind of man who’d stand out no matter where he was. Under the open trench coat, he wore a dark shirt that shimmered in the faint light and dark trousers. The one week they’d spent together, he generally looked like he’d stepped off the pages of GQ and that didn’t seem to have changed.

  Well, when he hadn’t been naked and on top of her. Or under...

  His shoes looked like they were more suited to pacing the floors of a boardroom than a busted-up, litter-strewn rooftop in the slums of Chicago. But he moved across that rooftop like he did it every day of his life, unconcerned by the cold, by her weapons, or the way she watched him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He slid her a look as he approached the hip high brick wall where she’d spent the last two hours. “Looking for you.”

  “Looking for me.” Shit. Alarm bells started to sound. Time to make a run for it. Her Canon digital camera and one of her bags lay just a foot away. She could grab them. Grab them and get the hell out. “Why are you looking for me?”

  “I’ll answer that question after you answer one for me.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared down into the alley.

  From the corner of her eye, Sara followed his gaze. Her heart sank to her feet as she realized he’d distracted her at the worst possible time.

  Down in the alley, the vampire was feeding. The woman stood still, almost passive, in his arms and there was a look of utter rapture on her face.

  Damn it damn it damn it! “I should have gone to Gary,” she muttered. Jerking the crossbow up, she aimed quickly, knowing she’d only have a second–

  Less. There was no time to aim before Wyatt moved, grabbing the crossbow out of her hands with uncanny strength. “Damn it, give it back!” Sara reached for it, but he slipped away. “He’s going to kill her.”

  If she thought her words might have had some sort of impact on him, she’d thought wrong. “No, Sara. He’s not. He isn’t going to hurt her.”

  “You don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about.” Fine. Screw the cross bow. She reached under her shirt, pulled out the Glock holstered at the base of her spine, watching him from the corner of her eye as she aimed–again, she never even saw him move until he was pulling the gun away.

  “Unfortunately, Sara, I do.”

  Something cold and ugly moved through her and she lifted her head, watched as Wyatt move to stand in front of her. He studied her face with grim eyes. If her instincts hadn’t already been screaming at her, they would have started, just from that look. “What are you doing here, Wyatt?” she asked again, her voice hoarse.

  Last year, just days after Joey had been buried, Sara had met a sexy stranger with eyes the color of amber, silken black hair and a wicked smile. She wasn’t the type to pick up men in bars, wasn’t the type to go back to a hotel with a guy she’d known only hours. But she’d done so with Wyatt. And she remembered it all in vivid detail.

  She’d spent one week with him, one week in which they rarely left his hotel room. On the seventh day, she’d slipped out of the room while he’d been in the shower and she hadn’t seen him since.

  She’d thought about him way too often for her peace of mind and what few dreams she had that weren’t nightmares had been centered around him–hot, sweaty dreams that left her aching and needy and lonely when she woke in her solitary bed. They left her wishing she could be different somehow, that she could move past the mission she’d set for herself.

  She thought of him–wondered if he ever thought of her, and figured the uber-sexy man had long since forgotten about her.

  But now he stood in before her, watching her with that grim look on his face. “I’m here because of you, Sara.”

  “Why?” She inched backward, deciding she’d forget about her bag. The gun. The crossbow. She could get new weapons. His lids drooped and when he looked at her again, terror wrapped an icy fist around her heart. His amber eyes glowed.

  When he opened his mouth to speak, she barely heard him say, “I think you know why.”

  She was too busy staring at his fangs.

  *

  Talk about taking one for the team, Wyatt thought with disgust as Sara backpedaled away. Her pale green eyes were wide with shock, her pretty face had gone pale with fear and he could hear the rapid beat of her heart from five feet away.

  Five feet and growing. Her hand slid to her waist and then fell back to her side as though she just realized he’d taken her gun away from her. A seriously mean looking gun. Wyatt had little use for such weapons, but he knew his way around them and the weapons he’d taken from Sara weren’t the kind used for recreational purposes.

  They were a soldier’s weapons. A fighter’s. A killer’s.

  It hurt his heart to see what grief and rage had done to her. Wyatt’s memories of that one week were crystalline–he could recall it in such acute, exquisite detail. The way her lashes fluttered right before her eyes went wide as she came, a feline smile curling her lips as she cuddled into him afterwards.

  The way those pretty green eyes had misted over with tears that she tried to hold back. The reluctant way she told him that her twin brother had been murdered, along with her best friend.

  Even then she’d had secrets in her eyes, some hidden knowledge she hadn’t given voice to. Thinking back, Wyatt knew he shouldn’t have let her slip away as she had. And not just because he could have happily spent the next fifty years in bed with the woman.

  When she’d slipped away from him, he had almost gone after her. Almost. But he’d been sent to make sure she would be all right–not fuck her brains out. He’d ended up doing both, and the guilt he carried was lightened only a little by the knowledge that she’d needed him. And he did prefer to think it was him she’d needed, and not just anonymous comfort sex. A man was allowed a few delusions, after all.

  The gu
ilt was back though. He’d been thinking with the wrong brain and now they were both caught in a mess.

  “You’re one of them,” she whispered. There was a stricken look in her eyes that was going to linger in his mind for a long, long time.

  “Sara, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She laughed. It was an ugly, brittle sound that echoed through the night for just a moment. Then it was gone and she stared at him with a mixture of disbelief, hurt, anger and fear. “Don’t give me that line, Wyatt. I know what your kind do. Hurting people is all you know.”

  “If I’d wanted to hurt you, I could have done so last year.”

  Sara flinched, almost like he slapped her across the face. Wyatt held still when all he wanted to do was reach for her, pull her to him.

  “If you don’t want to hurt me, then what in the hell do you want?” she demanded.

  Her voice all but dripped with sarcasm and he knew she didn’t believe him any farther than she could throw him. It hurt. But he’d come into this knowing he’d get bloodied over–figuratively speaking. Getting his heart ripped out again, much like what happened when he realized she’d walked out on him, was much better than the alternative. That didn’t even bear thinking about.

  Focus on the problem, Wyatt. Not the consequences of failure, he told himself.

  “I just want to keep you from making a mistake.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the alley but didn’t look at her face. “He wasn’t hurting her. He doesn’t believe in it.”

  Sara’s lip curled. “Yeah. I bet. You know, this vampire with a soul bit has already been done. Buffy and Angel pretty much covered that story line.”

  Despite himself, Wyatt grinned. “Buffy and Angel are Hollywood, love. This is real life.” His smile faded and he pushed a hand through his hair, sighed. “Sara, vampires aren’t demons any more than humans are. Yes, some of my kind are monsters...” He slanted her a look and added, “But then again, I’ve seen my share of human monsters, too.”

  “Humans didn’t kill Joey and Darla.”

  “No.” Wyatt faced her levelly. “You aren’t mistaken in that. They were attacked by vampires. But not all vampires kill, Sara.”

  She gave him a hard smile. It matched the look in her eyes. Hard. Emotionless. Empty. “Sorry, not buying it.”

  “If all vampires killed...how come you’re still alive?”

  For a second, she looked unsure. Wyatt pressed his advantage. “Did I hurt you once, Sara? Do anything you didn’t want me to do?”

  “Just because you didn’t then doesn’t mean you never would, lover.”

  He gave her a narrow look. “Sara, darling, it’s a bit insulting to imply I’m a cold-blooded murderer and then call me lover in the same breath.”

  She sneered at him. “What, don’t tell me you’ve been harboring fond memories, Wyatt.”

  “Fond?” His lids drooped over his eyes. Unable to stay away any more, he went to her, moving quicker than mortal eyes could track. Her eyes widened, her heartbeat kicked up and the apprehension inside her scented the air.

  The predator in him stirred, the hunger rousing.

  But the man ached. He reached out and hooked a hand over her neck, moving against her so that their bodies were pressed together from chest to knee.

  “Fond memories? That doesn’t describe it. I remember the way you moaned in my arms, the way you smiled when you woke up and smelled coffee. I remember the way you taste.”

  Lowering his head, he buried his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder. She tensed and tried to jerk away. He breathed in the scent of her, let it flood his system, and then he let her pull back.

  “I remember the way you cried yourself to sleep while I held you. And I remember you walking out on me.”

  He blew out a breath and shifted his gaze away from her. This was hard, even harder than he’d thought it would be. How could those few nights have left such a mark on him?

  He hadn’t been with another since her and the sexual frustration alone was murder. But he didn’t want any other woman. He couldn’t see a pretty brunette without remembering her, remembering the way he’d buried his hands in her silken hair as he kissed her. The way it had spread over them like a blanket as they slept.

  “I’ve got fond memories of fishing with my dad. My first dog. My first woman.” He slid her a look and added gruffly, “But fond doesn’t even scratch the surface when it comes to you.”

  No. Fond was for barely recalled memories of his youth, memories of the life he’d planned to live until fate intervened. Fond was something he might enjoy reminiscing about, but nothing he’d spend his life missing. He’d missed Sara every day. Woke thinking of her. Dreamed of her. Thought about her. Ached for her.

  Sara was one of those things not meant to be that he usually was able to move past. Like the life he had once so carefully planned. Like the fiancée he’d been forced to leave behind. Like his job. His home. His parents. Things, people that he’d loved. But he’d been able to move past them.

  He couldn’t say the same about Sara, and as he studied her face, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to tuck her neatly away in some niche. She might be a not-meant-to-be, but he couldn’t accept it.

  She started squirm, her gaze moving away as though his attention made her uncomfortable.

  When he took a step towards, her gaze swung back in his direction and although she kept her expression blank, he could feel the fear in her. He didn’t stop though and she didn’t back away from him. “You’re afraid of me.”

  Her chin angled up. “I’d be stupid to not be afraid.”

  Wyatt cocked a brow at her. “Why? When have I ever done anything to hurt you? To make think that I might?”

  Curling her lip at him, she gestured towards his face, her eyes lingering on his mouth. Although he knew there was nothing sexual about the look, his body responded as though she had pressed a kiss to his lips rather than sneer at his fangs. “Those aren’t there for ornamentation.”

  With a shrug, Wyatt said, “No. They aren’t. They serve a purpose. But I decide what purpose they’ll serve, Sara. I didn’t lose my humanity when this happened–and I didn’t choose for it to happen.”

  Her lashes flickered. He’d like to think he was actually reaching her but Wyatt hadn’t ever been much for optimism.

  “Leave me alone, Wyatt.”

  She glanced towards her things, but she didn’t try to get them. Instead, she backed away until she reached the rickety fire escape, watching him as though she expected him to pounce on her. The idea had its appeal, although not for the reasons she seemed to think. But Wyatt just stood there and watched as she swung her legs over the edge of the roof and disappeared from view.

  “That didn’t go well,” he muttered.

  The wind slammed into him as he stood there in the darkness, debating his next move. For now, the vampire that Sara had been targeting was safe, as were any others in the area. She’d left her weapons behind.

  It was midnight and Sara was a woman alone. He’d follow her, make sure she got wherever she was staying unharmed. His train of thought slammed to a halt as his body whispered a warning. An icy cold touch slithered down his spine and every instinct he had went on red alert. His head flew up and he narrowed his eyes, following a summons few could hear. Death. Blind hunger.

  He hadn’t lost his humanity when he became a vampire. But some had.

  There were monsters out there preying on humans and right now, one of them was on the hunt.

  *

  Sara couldn’t hear the footsteps and when she turned to look, she saw nobody behind her. But she knew she was being followed.

  Hell. Screw followed.

  She was being stalked.

  The skin on the back of her neck crawled, her gut knotted and blood roared in her ears. Her fingers itched and if she had her gun, she would have been holding onto it like a security blanket. She wanted to run. Desperately. But the calmer part knew that running was a bad, bad idea. Very bad.
Things that ran got chased. Things that got chased too often got caught. No, thanks.

  Then there was another part of her that whispered she needed to get back to Wyatt. That voice, for some reason, was harder to ignore. She had no logical reason to think that anything about Wyatt promised safety–even if he had just let her walk away. Even if he hadn’t tried to hurt her.

  “Where are you going, pretty girl?”

  It was a low, amused voice. Deep with a southern accent, soft and quiet. Not at all threatening. But she felt the threat. Sending a look over her shoulder, she looked for him, but saw nothing. Picking up her speed, she focused on the sidewalk in front of her.

  And plowed right into him.

  Instinct kicked in and she drove the palm of her heel upward, but he moved away, evading her strike with pathetic ease. His fingers were hard, the chill of them seeping through her clothes and freezing her to the bone. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked, smiling.

  Sara said nothing.

  The smile faded away and he cocked his head, studying her face. “You aren’t screaming. Why aren’t you screaming?”

  Again, she said nothing.

  His fingers tightened on her arms and he jerked her close. Sara jerked her head away from him when he pressed his mouth to her cheek and he started to laugh. “There...that’s more like it. It’s more fun when you fight.”

  “Then this is going to a lot of fun for you.”

  The sound of that voice was about the sweetest sound she’d ever heard, Sara decided. So what if she had just walked away from him a few minutes ago? Angling her head, she tried to follow the sound of his voice, but the man holding her moved, dragging her into an alley at their right.

  He moved with a speed that left her head spinning. She thought she heard them talking but their words didn’t make a whole lot of sense. At least not until a hand fisted in her hair and jerked her head to the side. “Unless you want me to rip her throat out in front of you, you’ll stay the hell back.”