by Fiona Jayde
Dedication
To Jill, Beth and Lacey for the unwavering support.
Chapter One
She should have kicked his ass after she’d kissed him—tall, dark and undead, wearing ancient leather with a matching attitude. Dina should have guessed he was a vampire three months ago instead of being sucked in by those dark, smoldering green eyes that looked like they could pin her to the wall and leave her shuddering.
He hadn’t smelled like blood then, and she’d needed to wipe away a horrid evening. That night had been the first and last time that she’d agreed to be set up. She’d slammed her fist into her date’s arrogant snout the second time Roguell had said she should be having babies—no doubt with him—instead of out hunting vampires.
So she’d made out with one instead—a perfect way to end a hellish evening. And here she was dejaing this vu while a blonde armed with a sloppy smile draped herself over the same guy. Even in the dim lights of the bar, Dina could track them easily though the hip Thursday crowd.
Because it wasn’t party night, the music didn’t scream and bang with drums and vocals. Instead, the trio on the small raised stage plucked out cool blues. Tomorrow, the tables would be cleared to cram in girls sporting barely-there skirts and knockoff perfume. They would dance on the black shine of the bar secure in their own invincibility and youth. Just like the grinning blonde who leaned closer to the vampire Dina was hunting.
Brooding and handsome—another reason Dina had lost her mind that night. His type always appealed to her—the square hero’s jaw, wavy brown hair that glinted a bit in the light, the long lean body under the soft leather of his jacket.
He’d kissed like a wet dream.
He was a damned vampire, which was why she had spent the last few months haunting Santa Barbara bars until she found him again. As soon as he showed a bit of fang, she’d have enough justification to kill him and clear her conscience.
A bloodwolf making out with a vamp. If she’d heard that about someone else, she would have died laughing.
She glanced again in his direction. The bastard took his time and she couldn’t dust a vamp until she was dead sure he was about to get really nasty. A stupid rule as far as Dina was concerned. A vamp was a vamp if you asked her, but since she wasn’t the alpha, no one bothered.
Watching the blonde slather herself against him, Dina wondered how drunk you had to be to wear a tube top in November and feel sexy. The man candy probably helped—though he didn’t look particularly interested in what Barbie packed under spray-painted red.
Dina didn’t care of course, but his lack of interest seriously delayed her plans to dust him. It wasn’t quite the special effects they showed on Buffy—in real life, her kind left dead vampires to the sun. No muss no fuss, and one hell of a skin condition. Dina just hoped to get it over quickly, and with it end the dreams of hot and greedy sex.
Damned embarrassing she hadn’t realized exactly what he was. She moved deeper into the shadow of her booth, rubbing her thumbs over a sweaty glass of something pink and vile. At least the kick-in-the-pants smell kept back the stench of human sweat and hormones. She took another sniff of her drink and could almost feel her lupine senses weeping.
Against her will, she thought back to how he’d kept on kissing her even after he’d combed his fingers through her hair and bared her tapered ears to his touch. He’d known exactly what she was, and hadn’t cared. Or maybe that had been the point—kiss a damned Lyck before you fight her. Show you’ve got balls.
She allowed herself one small pitying groan while embarrassment flushed over her again, thick reedy waves of it. She’d finish him tonight and end the evidence of her own idiocy.
Her hands tightened over the glass when Barbie thrust out her breasts and flipped back all that fake sun-colored hair to show off the fragile column of neck. Watching it, Dina thought of letting the vampire have one good bite before the rescue party. Give Barbie something to take home.
Except the vampire pulled back, held her at arm’s length while she tried to slither closer.
“Come on, baby.” Slurred crooning vocals of a happy drunk. “I know you wanna.” For added emphasis, Barbie slicked red-tipped hands over her neck. “I know you want a taste.”
He muttered something soft, intense and coarse, something that caused Barbie to laugh in disbelief. And when he once again peeled Barbie from his chest, his dark green eyes met Dina’s.
She wondered why her hands trembled when she reached up to tuck her hair back and expose tapered ears. A bloodwolf threat similar to that of a vamp showing his teeth.
“You need fresh air,” he murmured to the blonde, his voice a low caress on Dina’s senses. She didn’t know why her pulse spiked up.
“Don’t you tell me what I…” The nasal whine trailed off as Barbie followed the direction of his gaze. “Typical asshole. Like any other man.” Her voice rose over the beat of blues, and heads started turning.
The last thing that they needed was a scene.
“Get out.” Keeping her voice perfectly pleasant, Dina pushed herself out from the shadows.
Under the perfectly plucked eyebrows, Barbie’s eyes widened. Dina knew what she saw—a freakishly tall woman dressed in black, more muscular than curvy, straight brown hair tucked behind tapered ears common to wolves or aliens or both.
Not someone you messed with.
Another step towards them and Barbie fled, taking with her the stench of soaked adrenaline laced with a whiff of crack.
The vampire didn’t move closer, but he didn’t bolt. Keeping her movements casual, Dina closed the distance between them. His gaze locked in with hers, direct and dark and thorough. Tough chin, a slash of lips that looked both sensual and cruel. She wished he had a smear of blood, something to keep her focused on the job instead of remembering his mouth over hers.
“Nice shirt.”
Tonight, she had dressed up her usual black with a long-sleeved T that spelled out “Fuck U” in black glitter. Perfect for work with just a bit of charm.
“Bad night?” Dina sidestepped a swaying couple in matching cowboy boots. “I thought your kind was all blood, all the time.”
He smirked, gave a small upwards jerk of that hero’s chin. She wondered if he saw her heartbeat pulsing somewhere in the hollow of her neck. Get over it.
“And you’re an expert in my kind?” He emphasized the last word slightly in that clipped, low-pitched voice. Enough to make it sound insulting.
“Expert enough to dust you.” She hadn’t witnessed him actually take a bite, but no one had to be the wiser. She could simply dust him now and never see that cruel mocking smile again.
The thought churned her gut.
She faced him with small shivers racing down her back, trying not to remember how his arms felt banded around her, his body hard and hot against her own.
“You want to dance, bloodwolf?”
She couldn’t risk fighting him, not here amidst the crowd. Instead she flashed a smile, short and sweet. “Let’s take it outside.”
“Now that’s an invitation.”
He moved. Before she could react his hands gripped her shoulders, firm yet kind. She had one second to push back, to scream, to growl, to punch him. Instead, Dina just watched his face as he leaned down and put his mouth on hers, hot, hard and nearly brutal.
Her breath shattered with shock as he pulled her against his body, teased out a low moan, biting her lower lip. She fisted her hands in his hair and let herself be taken, ravaged, swaying among the other dancers under the cool and bluesy beat.
Dina didn’t know when his touch became gentle, when his arms eased and merely hugged her close. His lips left her mouth to trail kisses over her jaw, up towards her ears.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She pushed away, fighting to keep her heartbeat calm and even. Her mouth tingled but she refused to lift her fingers to her lips. “I should kill you right here.”
“Yeah.” He backed away, his mouth mocking. “Yeah, you should.”
Her heart pounded now—insult and shock pulsing under a slick layer of aroused fear. Once more she had let him put his hands on her. He could have torn open her throat with one smooth move.
“Get out.” The words came out in a low trembling hiss.
“After you.” He raised a brow when she didn’t move. Even if she was an idiot, she wasn’t about to give her back to a damned vamp.
Another sizzling moment and he shrugged as if he didn’t really give a fuck, and walked towards the back entrance. Dina pushed through the crowd after him, forcing herself to breathe, already reaching for the short blade hidden at her lower back.
She’d cut strips off his skin before piercing his heart and leaving him for morning.
As if he read her mind, he smiled darkly when he turned and stepped aside. “Go ahead,” he said again and this time Dina took the invitation. Better to get out first and secure the scene instead of stepping out blindly.
The alley behind Kennedy’s was dark and crisp with cold November air, the stench of alcohol and trash a foul assault on her nose. His body was a shadow in the dark, silent and still.
She clutched the cold smooth handle of the push blade and swung out, barely missing bone and skin. Another strike, which he evaded just in time for her to ram a fist into his granite jaw.
Pain flashing up her arm, Dina jumped back and crouched, waiting for him to make a move. Willing him to make a move so she could kill him with a clear conscience.
A second passed. Another. He remained still, not lifting a limb to strike her. Instead she felt his gaze burning her skin.
She didn’t like the taste of fear and arousal, arousal she didn’t understand. Trembling, she let the knife drop to the ground, its clatter drowned by the thunder of her pulse.
She wouldn’t back away, she wouldn’t step closer. Trapped by his gaze, Dina damned clothing and caution and dropped her balance to the ground, forcing herself to shift into her other form. Instinct would overpower thought, she wouldn’t feel the tug and pull of lust inside her belly.
His gaze caressed her skin.
She bared her teeth at him, curling her hand into the ground. Another moment and she’d feel the kick and pulse of magic melding her bones into her other shape, forcing her into wolf form. She’d change while he watched, give him a good, long look. Maybe then his gaze would stop tugging at something inside her, maybe then she would tear him apart instead of wanting to jump him and give in to this greed for more.
The cold November breeze teased goose bumps on her skin. Still standing in the shadows, the vampire flicked his wrist to light a cigarette. The short flame lit his face, illuminating harsh lips and cruel watchful eyes.
“You let me know when you’re ready.”
Shock was a chilling coat of sweat. She couldn’t breathe because a fist squeezed at her belly. Her blood ran cold while she gasped for breath. She couldn’t shift, couldn’t feel the magic burning. Shaking, mindless, Dina groped for her knife, waited for him to leap, to grip her throat, to end it.
He took the cigarette out of his mouth, puffed out a ring of smoke. Holding her gaze, he uttered the same words that she had given him earlier.
“Get out.”
With shock clogging her throat, she did.
Chapter Two
He had one hell of a death wish. Then again, the bloodwolf with the amber eyes and carnal mouth could do the one thing Luke wouldn’t do himself.
The morning tore into the sky, pink streaks of light burning his eyes with color. For the past twenty years, he ended every night wondering how far he could stand up to dawn.
Bright light fought its way into the high attic window. Like always, he waited to curtain it off, foolishly clinging to the hope that he could look the rising sun square in the face and have the guts to burn.
The bloodwolf’s scent still clung to him—reckless and dangerous and sexy. No perfume, no floral imitations to mask her natural fragrance. Just female arousal and nerves mixed in a heady combination. He liked the nerves, liked feeling her heart shuddering under him. Liked feeling, because that in itself was rare.
Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her knowing what she was, but he couldn’t resist those dangerous gold eyes, that tough and sexy body. Remembering the feel of her pressed hard against his chest made Luke’s blood hum again.
Her clean, sharp aura enflamed him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d craved someone to touch. The women who offered themselves to his fangs were just a dirty means to appease hunger. Faceless, forgotten until the need for blood stirred once again.
As the light brightened safely behind the drapes, he sketched her face with quick strokes of his pencil. Strong features—too bold to be delicate, too striking not to take a second look. Stubborn, he figured, as he enhanced the fragile curve of her jaw on paper. Strong build, a soft and carnal mouth. He spent a lot of time on it, smoothing the lines, shaping it till the bottom lip curved just as he had it in his mind, full and delicious, tasting both fresh and dark, strawberries dipped in the darkest chocolate.
Maybe he’d draw her just like that, parting her lips for a fat succulent strawberry. His body jerked with nearly painful need, and even that was satisfying. It kept hunger at bay for now, because he couldn’t stomach thinking of feeding after tasting her mouth. He kept tracing the pencil over it even as footsteps creaked behind him.
“I like it.” Walt leaned in to study the paper, his gnarled fingers splayed over the desk. Luke wondered how he stood it, growing old and frail while Luke stayed the same through the years, bitter and young and cold.
“Different than your usual. Softer.” Walt’s voice sounded different than usual as well. Heavier, as grief settled inside.
“What are you doing up?”
The old man gave him a small smile. “Long night.”
His wife had refused the chemo treatments. She’d slipped away last month, in peace and silence, and even as Luke grieved, watching his friend cope with the loss, he envied them. He couldn’t call himself alive because he’d died already. And he couldn’t find the strength to burn with morning’s light, not with his best and only friend alone and quickly aging. Maybe he’d find the strength after Walt passed.
“You want something to drink?” Luke had stayed up with him before, talking, looking through pictures, packing up her clothes. Wondering what it was like to have someone become part of his life, her wants and needs wrapped up with his.
“Your stock is dry.” There was wry amusement there, as if Walt was remembering how twenty years ago Luke was the first to open a bottle. And twenty years ago, drunk and invincible, he’d let a female vampire make him her willing toy.
His fingers tightening on the pencil, Luke pushed away the memory of sex and blood and death. He thought he’d loved her, had been enthralled by her sheer greed for him. Was shattered when that greed had worn off.
“I say you double the price.” As if reading his mind, Walt tried to change the subject. “Not quite your style, but could be great as a collector’s piece.”
The drawing didn’t match the heavy black and whites mounted on his walls, his art the only thing Luke kept from being human. “It’s not for sale.” As if by its own will, his hand once more traced that lush mouth.
Walt chuckled. “I didn’t think so.” He straightened up with creaking pops of stiffening joints. “You did really well this month.” He held out an envelope, politely averting his eyes when Luke peered inside. Just as he had that first time when Luke had finished college and tried to take the world by storm with art. The bills inside had been considerably less. And he’d had no idea what the world had to offer.
With a quick flick of his fingers, Luke took out a few bills, shoved the rest back to hand to Walter. “For rent.”
<
br /> The old man shook his head. “You know it’s too much.”
“Property values are up.” And there were hospital bills and cemetery plots to pay for.
“You do this every month.”
“Better than drugs.”
Walt closed his mouth at that, although the argument had been the same for nearly eighteen years. Ever since Luke had been able to afford to pay for the small attic above the old Victorian where Walt and Alice had spent their lives. Ever since Walt started to sell Luke’s art.
“You’re right.” A small pause. “Thank you.”
As if the money could repay the basic kindness they had shown him when Luke was devastated and alone, hiding from daylight, bleeding, hungry. It had been Walt who had suggested that Luke sell his art. It had been Alice who had brought him packs of blood from Cottage Hospital—though only God knew how she’d swiped them.
Long after Walter made his way downstairs, Luke kept tracing the face in front of him, sharpening her features, brightening her eyes. He drew her hair loose and shiny, her tapered ears delicate and long. A bloodwolf, for God’s sake.
He wondered what she’d taste like with pleasure overtaking her, her blood flowing with it. Arousal mixed with disgust as he slammed down on the rollaway wedged in the corner and got out another pack of cigs to take him through day.
It wasn’t a fluke. Dina couldn’t shift and it had been hours since she’d run away with a vampire’s taste still on her lips, his scent surrounding her. She’d spent the rest of last night and today alternating between the punching bag and trying to center her damned body. The magic flowed in wolves whose mind and body were united, a feat achieved through meditation and pain of intense physical conditioning.
She’d badly skinned her knuckles and the magic hadn’t come. And no matter how much she scrubbed, Dina couldn’t get rid of the vampire’s scent teasing her senses.
She should have killed him when she had the chance.
Telling herself she was simply annoyed rather than scared out of her mind, her wet hair haphazardly braided to keep it out of her face, Dina pretended to focus on tonight’s patrol. If anyone knew of her loss, she would have to stay back while the strong Lycks took care of business.