No Hunter wants to deal with that potential. Get in, kill the fuckers, and get the hell out.
Simple.
*
I run my high security keycard through the slot and the door to my penthouse suite whispers open. I move through and the door slides closed behind me. The midwestern skyline bleeds a purple and red sunset over downtown Sioux Falls as it colors my floor like beaten fruit.
I stretch and the vertebrae in my back give a satisfying round of pops. I toss my car keys in a low bowl of Mexican pottery that sits on top of a table hugging the jog out in the foyer.
The floor plan is one of my choosing. It's narrow in the entrance and widens to an open living room and kitchen combination.
Not that I do a shit ton of cooking. My lips pull at the thought of cooking as I cruise to my fridge. I open it, and true to form, there's no food, but plenty of beer. I grab one and pop the lid using a sterling band on my right ring finger. It's hell on beer caps.
I take a hard pull, taking the frosty beer to half empty and move to the view seen through my floor to ceiling glass windows.
Philips Street is overrun with tourists enjoying the bronze statues and Native American shops that dot the area. My excellent night vision is not necessary at the moment. Not with twilight promising nighttime. I roll the cool bottle against my forehead as my gaze wanders and sigh.
I have twelve hours before response is required for the sanction.
I set the nearly empty beer on a low thick glass coffee table. A hot shower and catching five hours of sleep is my entire goal before this mission. I'm beat. Chasing down hybrids is a full-time job.
Walking to the wall that rounds to the hall leading to the bathroom, I pass a palm over a glass sculpture that hangs like artwork.
It's not.
A brilliant blue spiderweb of light harmlessly lasers over my skin, reading the unique lines of my hand. A single chime sounds in the silence and the front slides away to reveal a black hole.
I pull out a cylinder that rests inside.
It'll have all the instructions for assignment thirteen. Name, birthdate, location. My sector covers the midwest states. There are twelve of us serving this area.
A vial with a syringe is enclosed in an thick airtight lucite case. My pulse quickens.
It'll be my first.
A woman.
Hunters sanction male hybrids. It's the Huntersʼ core belief that women should be protected. None of us kill females. I don't allow myself to touch on what happens when a rare hybrid is located and a Hunter won't sterilize. The penalty is severe and immediate for lack of follow through.
Or the disastrous transgression of mating with a hybrid, though rare, it's not unheard of. Those are grounds for a Kill Order.
I set my dark thoughts aside as the specs fall out last, rolled neatly with the traditional black satin ribbon keeping them in a tight circle.
I pop the ribbon and look over the specs, reading them twice.
Occupation: Bounty Enforcer.
I whistle low in the back of my throat. I'm all for a challenge.
I slug the rest of my beer back, running a fingertip over the name.
Narah Adrienne.
I crush the specs, having already committed them to memory. I walk over to my fireplace and toss the crumpled parchment inside the firebox. Striking a match on the base of my boot, I throw the lit match inside and watch it burn. A low flame bursts over the ancient paper and renders the message unreadable.
Ash rises up the flu. Ms. Adrienne's fate is not yet set in stone.
I smile at the thought of destiny. Here I come, sweetheart.
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Vampire Alpha Claim 1
Acknowledgments
I published both The Druid and Death Series, in 2011 with the encouragement of my husband, and continued because of you, my Reader. Your faithfulness through comments, suggestions, spreading the word and ultimately purchasing my work with your hard-earned money gave me the incentive, means and inspiration to continue.
There are no words that are sufficiently adequate to express my thankfulness for your support.
I truly feel connected to my readers. It is obvious to me, but I'll say the words anyway for clarity: a written work is just words on pages if they are not read by my readers. As I write this I get a lump in my throat; your enjoyment of my work affects me that deeply.
You guys are the greatest, each and every one of ya~
Tamara
xoxo
Special Thanks:
You, my reader.
My husband, who is my biggest fan.
Cameren, without who, there would be no books.
About the Author
www.TamaraRoseBlodgett.com
Tamara Rose Blodgett: happily married mother of four sons. Dark fiction writer. Reader. Dreamer. Home restoration slave. Tie dye zealot. Coffee addict. Digs music.
She is also the New York Times Bestselling author of A Terrible Love, written under the pen name, Marata Eros, and over ninety-five other titles, to include the #1 international bestselling erotic Interracial/African-American TOKEN serial and her #1 bestselling Amazon Dark Fantasy novel, Death Whispers. Tamara writes a variety of dark fiction in the genres of erotica, fantasy, horror, romance, sci-fi and suspense. She lives in the midwest with her family and three, disrespectful dogs.
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