by Liz Meldon
Vampire.
But he was warm. He hadn’t felt like some dead thing. Her mind raced through all the interactions they’d had that night, and not once had she suspected he was anything different than her.
The Fool pulled away with a growl, resuming his leisurely thrusts as he cleaned the blood from her neck with his tongue. She stayed there, stunned, until his pace grew frantic again, and finally, finally, he spilled himself into her, his body tensing as he groaned her name against her skin.
F I V E
Stake. Stake. Stake.
The word hummed through Delia’s mind as she staggered back into the hotel suite, hurrying across the room to where she’d left her things on the bedside table. Slamming into the dark wooden piece, Delia’s vision blurred for a moment as she fumbled to get her clutch open, and she stopped to take a few deep breaths.
A single bite from a vamp wouldn’t turn a human—it wouldn’t even kill them. In fact, there was barely any blood dribbling from the wound on her neck anymore. It was the second bite that spread the infection, and the third sealed the deal, along with some additional pomp and ceremony. There were rumours, of course, about what a single bite could do, but Delia wasn’t about to waste any of her precious time on that.
She had a vamp to stake. A warm vamp who’d just given her the best orgasms of her life—but that was beside the point.
It didn’t matter that she was still naked, her skin flushed and covered in perspiration. It didn’t matter that the aftermath of their fucking coated her thighs, that her slowly drying blood stained her neck. All she had to do was stab the guy and get out of there. She’d left him by the railing; the Fool leaned over it, panting, grinning. He practically let her go, and she approached the balcony with caution, knowing now that he wasn’t to be underestimated—he’d fooled her thus far, after all.
She nearly tripped on his shirt, which she’d torn off as soon as she wriggled away from him, but she regained her balance fast, eyes fixed on his back. The Fool stood at the edge of the balcony, his arms outstretched, palms pressed to the railing. He must have heard her approaching—she wasn’t being subtle about it—but he made no move to stop her. So, without further ado, Delia pressed the small button that lengthened the silver stake to its full size, then jammed it into his back with all her might.
He exhaled sharply, a sound she soon realized was laughter.
“Almost, sweet Delia,” he said, turning on the spot and fiddling with the tip of sharp metal poking out of his chest.
She held her ground, waiting for him to sink to his knees and shrivel up like all the others did—but it seemed she’d be waiting a long time for that. The Fool offered a small smile, then reached behind and yanked the stake out.
“The heart is here,” he told her, placing the sharp point against his skin. “You were so close.”
Eyes narrowed, she flinched forward, debating whether or not she could get enough momentum to push the stake into his chest just by running at him, but stopped when he tsk’d at her.
He was right: she wouldn’t have been successful with that attempt either.
“I do enjoy your fire,” the Fool mused, stalking toward her again.
Despite everything she now knew, a twinge of excitement rippled through her, and she fisted her hands so tightly that her nails almost drew blood—a distraction from the burning need she actually felt when she looked at him.
“How did you know?” she demanded, crossing the threshold of the room, eyes darting around for more weapons, for an escape. The Fool raised his eyebrows curiously, and she added, “Who I am.”
He scoffed. “That’s a bit of an insulting question. Try another one.”
Turning on the balls of her feet, Delia shot off to the door, but it wouldn’t open, no matter how hard she tried. There was no obvious lock mechanism, just a doorknob with a keyhole in it.
“Locks from both the inside and the out,” the Fool remarked, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw him holding a key. “I’m waiting, huntress.”
“For what?” She was quite proud she’d managed to keep her voice even—and even more impressed that the Fool hadn’t glanced down at her heaving breasts once. He honed in on her face instead, those unsettling eyes so much easier for Delia to understand now.
“For the next question.” He scooped his shirt off the floor and slipped it on, fussing briefly over the missing buttons. “I’m sure you have many.”
“Again with the presumptuousness,” Delia said, which made his lips twitch into something of a smile. As much as she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing what he asked, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to gain some intel. “Why are you warm? Vamps are usually cold.”
“Felt up many vamps, have you?” His head cocked to the side as he waited for her to reply, but Delia pressed her lips together, determined not to take the bait. The Fool sighed as the silence dragged on. “Many are warm. It’s only in modern times that we learned it was a genetic defect and not some miracle given by a higher power. There was a time many thought it was the silver lining to this disease… Today many of our key players are warm. Makes humans less suspicious.”
She blinked, absorbing the information, her hand still wrapped around the door knob. “Key players? Do you know Claudia?”
He settled atop the writing desk, oozing easy sensuality, his confidence enviable as he set her stake beside him. An image of her licking his toned, bare chest flashed across her mind, but she shook it away.
“Claudia? No.” He folded his hands together and set them on his lap. A sharp laugh slipped out as he leaned his head back against the wall. “It’s quite flattering to be mistaken for a woman, I suppose. They are ferocious leaders.”
“What?” Her legs trembled now, her body settling in to a pleasant soreness she’d probably still feel tomorrow.
The Fool grinned, his eyes wandering the ceiling. “You wanted to know my name,” he said. “Claude. Claudia isn’t real, you know. She’s a bit of a joke amongst the clan leaders… They’ve enjoyed giving your league a white whale to hunt, knowing there will never be a capture. I’ve always thought they collectively agreed on the name Claudia as a slight to me.”
Delia crossed her arms, finally covering her breasts. “Why would you tell me that? I’m just going to tell my superiors—”
“That’s making the very large assumption that you’ll leave this room tonight,” Claude remarked.
She met his gaze challengingly. Many times in the past she’d envisioned meeting and killing a powerful vamp, but never had it once gone like this.
“Are you going to kill me then?” Her heart hammered in her chest as she studied him, but he soon put her out of her misery.
“No,” he replied without missing a beat, “I’m not.”
Swallowing hard, Delia nibbled her lower lip, unsure of how to respond, of what to make of the mess she found herself in.
“Then I’m going to go, and I’m going to tell them everything,” she finally said.
He didn’t stop her when she stepped toward the bed. In fact, the only part of him that moved were his eyes, which followed her across the room to her dress. She grabbed the fabric with trembling fingers, stepping into it and sliding it up her body.
“Oh, silly Delia.” Claude sighed while she zipped the dress up. Her cheeks burned as she grabbed her underwear and stuffed it in her clutch, not willing to let him watch her put it back on. “You can’t go back to your little league. You’re tainted now.”
Her hand unconsciously went to the bite mark on her neck, but she said nothing, forcing it back down to her side. Instead, she concentrated on getting her blistering feet back in her shoes.
“You’re mine,” he continued, “whether you like it or not, unfortunately.”
One of her ankles rolled suddenly, causing her to stagger and grab the bedpost for support. An uncomfortable knot formed in her stomach at the thought, a mixture of disgust and excitement making her queasy.
; “I’ll still tell them everything,” she told him, though her voice lacked the certainty she wished she felt.
“They’ll cast you out. Banishment. Worse, probably, if you know some of their secrets.”
“I’ll risk it.” If it meant bringing down powerful vamps, ones who were warm to the touch, she’d do whatever she needed to—even if the mark on her neck meant she couldn’t hunt anymore.
“Of course you will,” Claude said softly.
His gentle tone made her look at him sharply, brow furrowed. He was watching her still, but he wasn’t leering. He could have been smug—and he was a little. After all, he’d bested her in the end, made Delia the fool of the night, not the other way around. But there was an earnestness in his expression that made her knees weak again—she shook her head, unwilling to fold. It had to be a trick. Vamps were skilled at the art of seduction, were they not? Clearly.
Throwing her shoulders back, she gathered her courage and moved toward him. He hadn’t killed her yet. In fact, Claude seemed to enjoy her—and maybe she could use that to her advantage. He remained unmoved as she approached, still seated on the writing desk, hands on his lap, back against the wall. Curious eyes roved over her, settling eventually on her face, and Delia felt their heat in the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her hand twitched, wanting to wipe it away.
Wordlessly, Delia snatched the silver stake from where it rested beside him, pressing the little button to make it fold back into itself. She then set it in her clutch and crossed her arms, careful not to touch him despite their closeness.
“Are you going to unlock the door?” she asked, her chin raised slightly.
Claude cocked an eyebrow. “Do you want to leave?”
She should have answered in a heartbeat. Even if she didn’t say the word aloud, an affirmative yes should have rung out in her mind—but it didn’t. There was nothingness in response to his question, no more than an aching silence that made the knot in her stomach even tighter. She swallowed hard again, finding her mouth suddenly dry, and nodded.
“Yes.”
“What was that?” he said, leaning forward.
Her cheeks flushed again at the softness of her tone, and Delia cleared her throat. “Open the door.”
There was a sureness about her this time, one that made Claude frown.
After a quick pause, the vampire slid off the writing desk and took her hand in his. Delia inhaled sharply, trying to pull back, but his vice-like grip was impossible to shake. Instead, she walked behind him, their clasped arms stretched out between them, until they reached the door. From his pocket Claude produced a small brass key, which he slipped into the doorknob easily enough. It was only then that he released her hand, and she flexed her fingers to get the blood flowing through them again.
“It won’t heal. Time will make it fade, but you’ll always feel it,” he said, brushing her hair away from her neck to expose the wound.
She trembled, but didn’t pull back. Claude had his own gravitational pull, it seemed, and now that she was in it, she couldn’t escape. Once more the thought brought both stress and exhilaration out from within, but she swallowed it all down, forcing an irritated expression across her features. “Great.” She even threw in an eye roll, just for sarcastic hunter effect. “Just what I wanted. Thanks.”
She tensed at the sound of the doorknob turning, but before she could slip around him and make a run for it, the vampire caught her in one last kiss. Delia inhaled slowly, shakily, her body stiffening as his lips pressed to hers. This was like their first kiss: sweet, gentle, almost tentative. In fact, there was barely any pressure behind it at all—no more than a chaste, lingering peck.
That is, until Delia kissed him back. She hadn’t meant to. Her mind screamed for her to push against his chest and bolt out the door. Slap him maybe, just for good measure. But her body did none of those things. In fact, there were even louder voices clawing their way to the forefront of her mind, stronger images to drown out the angry ones. She saw herself dragging him back to bed, his hands running over her body, ridding her of the dress that felt too constricting now. Whether it was what she really wanted or just a vampire’s trick, she couldn’t be certain—and she almost didn’t care.
Tilting her head up, she kissed him, though neither parted their lips. There was no nibbling, no intense breathing. In fact, aside from their lips, his warm fingertips beneath her chin, a soft caress and nothing more, was the only connection between their bodies.
The only physical connection anyway.
Her feet threatened to shift forward, her body aching to arch up against him again. Instead, Delia pulled away, drawing in another shaky breath and smoothing a hand over her unruly hair. She must have looked like a total mess—worse than the belligerently drunk girls Kain was probably preying on at the bar.
With a soft clearing of his throat, Claude eased around her—as if careful not to touch her again—and held the door open. The hallway outside was painfully quiet, the air still and thick, but Delia pressed forward without any parting words. She had to get out—she didn’t trust herself with him.
Her heels clacked noisily on the marble tile, which extended from the suite, though everything went quiet again when she passed over a thin rug. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled as she approached the elevator, but after pressing the button, she decided against waiting for the creaking lift to arrive and headed for the stairs instead. Over her shoulder, just before she slipped through the doorway, she caught Claude watching her, his hands clasped behind his back as he stood in the hall. Her pace quickened.
There’d be no preparing herself for the league’s reaction to what had happened. If she wasn’t exiled—or killed—as soon as someone saw her neck, the torment from the other hunters would be relentless. For decades to come, she’d be the silly little girl who tried to take down a big bad vamp on her own—and ended up fucking one instead.
Delia stopped suddenly, her hand gripping the thin metal railing. She swore she heard footsteps somewhere above. Whether it was Claude or someone else, she wasn’t in the mood to wait and find out. Hunters were supposed to be all fight and no flight, but Delia had no fight left in her, so she hurried down the last few sets of stairs to the main floor.
By the time Delia staggered out of the stairwell on the ground floor, there were still some guests milling around. Covering the dried blood on her neck with her hair, she kept her head down and made a beeline for the door. No eye contact with anyone. No returned smiles. She blitzed past men and women in finery and hotel staff in black uniforms, digging her phone out of her clutch as soon as the main doors were in sight. Without thinking, she scrolled through her contacts list and hit Kain’s name.
“Dels!” he shouted into the phone two rings later, and she winced as she held the device to her ear with her shoulder. “What’re you—”
“Kain,” she barked, hoping to cut off his drunken ranting before he really got going, “we have a serious problem.” She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I…I have a serious problem. Where are you?”
Once she was through the main doors, she all but ran for a loitering taxi. Had she glanced over her shoulder like her prickling senses urged, she might have seen a fool watching her leave. She might have seen him standing in the middle of the grand doorway, ensuring no one hassled her during her hasty departure. She might have noticed the way his eyes followed her, not with mindless lust and primal need, but with interest, curiosity, and even some affection.
* * * *
Had she stayed at the Banesview Hotel for just a little while longer, the huntress might have learned that this wasn’t the first time an oddly warm vamp had seen her. She might have learned, in fact, that he’d seen her many times before. He’d seen her fight. He’d watched her laugh, always from the shadows, always when he and his clan were keeping tabs on who the local hunter league had killed, which was usually no vamp of importance. Most recently, he’d watched as she sat miserably in a surveillance car as her par
tner took the glory for the clanless vampire she had captured, on her own, all the while unawares that she was the one under surveillance. He hadn’t given her much thought before—until he saw her tonight, her lacy mask not hiding much of her lovely facial features from his keen eye.
At first he’d thought to ignore her. In all the times he’d seen her before, she’d never struck him as a threat. Then, as the night went on, he’d figured he ought to keep an eye on her—after all, the league had been asked to steer clear of the event, so why was she there?
And then he’d decided he wanted to meet her—officially. Not watch from the shadows anymore. Because he’d thought once, in passing, weeks earlier, that her beauty made him weak.
This vamp, he’d only wanted to talk to her. To make her laugh. To spoil her a little. Because in the brief time they’d interacted, he’d realized that her fire actually touched him, that her wit made him smile.
That she wasn’t just some sulking huntress—but someone who’d inadvertently piqued his interest without either of them realizing it had happened.
He’d never intended to take things as far as he had. He’d never meant to taste her so intimately…
* * * *
But she wouldn’t know or see any of that—because Delia all but threw herself in an awaiting cab and ordered the driver to speed away before she could grant herself one last look at the Banesview Hotel.
* * * *
None of that mattered. She didn’t need to look back. Because she’d be seeing the Fool again in the coming days. She just didn’t know it yet.