The Vampire and the Demon Prince

by Mina Carter

  The Vampire and the Demon Prince

  Moonlight & Magic 3

  Mina Carter

  New York Times & USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Copyright © 2012 by Mina Carter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Also by Mina Carter

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  "Yeah? You and whose army, bloodsucker? Now piss off before I get irritated and decide to introduce you to a few friends of mine… They're a bit boring when it comes to conversation, but they really get the point across,” Tiny snarled at the vampire facing him down. He flicked the side of his jacket open to reveal two short and businesslike stakes nestled along his ribcage, right under the Glock in the shoulder holster.

  They weren't the rough hewn, chair-leg type stakes of the amateur vampire slayer either. These were iron-banded custom beauties, made to Tiny's precise specifications. When it came to weaponry, the demon believed in multiple redundancies so the wooden shaft dealt with the vamps, the iron bands put a crimp in the day of any Fae he had to sort out, and anything still standing with six inches of banded wood stabbed through their ribcage…well, that's what the Glock was for. To say Tiny was loaded for bear was an understatement. He was loaded for anything that breathed.

  He needed to be. Working as a doorman at the city's premier paranormal nightclub, Tiny and the other guys on the security team saw most things in the course of a night. They'd had a dragon in last week. Well, a were-drake to be precise—one of the Keller brothers—and even the bosses, Jaren and Daelas, had come down onto the floor to make sure Mr. Keller got everything he wanted. No one wanted a pissed off dragon, not even Tiny, who was one of the tougher of the paranormals on the staff, barring the head doorman Knuckles.

  Dragons, though, were the exception rather than the rule. Normally the club got small fry, like the vampire glaring at Tiny because his pathetic attempt at a mind-trick had failed.

  "Try it on someone with human blood, pal,” Tiny advised with a small smile that was nowhere near pleasant. “But not on my watch. Now piss off."

  "Fucking vampires…should be put down,” the woman next to Tiny muttered as the vamp gave up to slink back into the shadows. He paused to cast a baleful glare over his shoulder at Tiny, who smiled and waved.

  A long-suffering sigh sounded beside him. “Will you please stop pissing them off? You know it causes problems at chucking-out time."

  The demon chuckled and slid a glance sideways at his partner. Misty was a walking, talking frat boy's wet dream. She was Amazonian tall, with pale ivory skin that made a man's mouth water, and masses of midnight hair which fell to curl lovingly about a waist small enough for Tiny to wrap his hands around. Add a stacked rack and full lips which gave any red-blooded male ideas about them running over his naked body and you had a woman capable of stopping men dead in their tracks at a hundred paces.

  This was a useful skill on the front door of Moonlight & Magic, where the humans sometimes got a little out of hand, like the group of young males approaching them, an edge in their laughter that said this was not the first stop of the evening.

  "Yeah, yeah…whatever. You like a little rough and tumble just as much as I do, doll. Don't try and deny it,” he threw back. He nodded towards the group approaching the door. “You're up. Work your magic, girl."

  Tiny stood back, his hands clasped loosely in front of him with the fingers of one wrapped around the wrist of the other as Misty swung into action. Dressed in the black slacks, shirt and jacket of the door staff, an outfit not known for its sex appeal, she still managed to garner the attention of every man in the vicinity as she made her way down the steps by the main doors.

  How she did it, Tiny didn't know. She didn't sashay or roll her hips as she walked. In the heavy boots she marched more than walked, but it was all done with a sensual grace so unstudied it had to be natural.

  However, that wasn't the appeal. What drew men to her wasn't her stunning looks, but the sense of danger clinging to her like a second skin as though to touch her would be to glimpse heaven, just for a moment, before the reaper moved in for the kill.

  A rather accurate statement, Tiny mused, acknowledging wryly he'd had to resist temptation himself a few times. Resist he did because, unlike the young mortals ogling her with “God, I'd like a piece of that ass” looks, Tiny knew what Misty was. Brave he might be—indeed, he'd been called suicidal in some circles—but even he wasn't going to start messing about with a Valkyrie.

  In her case, la petite mort might be too permanent for comfort.

  "Now, now, lads, gonna need you to calm down a little before we let you in…"

  After another glance to make sure she had the situation under control, Tiny looked away, eyes scanning the queue waiting to get in and the passersby in the street. A cold night, it seemed all the colder for a demon-born like Tiny. Shuddering, he hunched into the turned-up collar of his thick jacket. His gaze swept the road. A rush of jealousy—sharp and immediate—rose as the vampires circled like sharks waiting for a meal. If any of them wore a coat, it was for effect rather than any need for warmth. They didn't feel the cold.

  "Bastards,” he muttered under his breath and wondered if he could crawl inside his jacket completely. Tiny hated being cold with a passion. But then, for any creature born and bred in the warmth of one of the seven hells, cold was pure torture. The fog put a layer of moisture in the air that coated everything, the dampness penetrating deep into Tiny's bones. He was never going to be warm again—no doubt a punishment for running away from his duties.

  Shivering again, he muttered another curse about the weather as a bunch of vamps having a little tete-a-tete on the corner opposite caught his attention. He ignored his discomfort as the little group whispering between themselves didn't break up as he'd expected. Tiny flicked a glance at Misty, who had calmed down the group she had approached. The line moved quickly now.

  Feeling his gaze on her, she lifted her head, silent communication passing between the partners for a second before Tiny turned his attention back to the vamps. Misty would keep an eye on the line and call in backup if needed, whilst he dealt with the circling predators intent on picking off the weakest of the human herd.

  He didn't move for a moment, just leaned against the wall, his eyes sharp and alert. Vamps were predictable creatures most of the time, but occasionally one would get a kick in their gallop and try to make a play for someone in the queue, a decision which ended with them having a little chat in a side alley with Tiny or one of his colleagues. There was a running book on how high they could get vamp blood and snot on the brickwork.

  However vamps weren't normally pack animals and they didn't hunt together. This little group seemed to have missed that particular memo. Tiny's eyes narrowed as two of the group sauntered across the road and engaged a trio of young women in conversation. Human women, of course; they wouldn't bother with any of the paranormals in the line.

  The third was slower to approach, piling on the vampire “glamour” as he did. The vampires moved in a slick routine, separating the women, who were easy marks. They herded the last girl toward an alley, the arm of her new “friend” wrapped around her shoulders. The tall demon sighed. Vampire charm was hypnotic and she was getting it full force
, her head back against the vamp's shoulder as he gazed deep into her eyes.

  "Great, just what I need tonight. A fucking synchronized vampire feeding squad.” Pushing off from the wall, he rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he readied himself for action. There was going to be blood and snot on the walls again. Perhaps with three vamps to play with he'd beat Knuckles’ record…

  His lips compressed as yet another vamp moved to follow the others into the alley. What was this, an all you can eat until the meal drops dead buffet? He turned, angling his walk to intercept the new player as his heavy boots crunched over the road. Then he got a good look at the newcomer and his step faltered.

  She was gorgeous. She was a vampire, but she was gorgeous.

  Tiny's eyes widened in surprise as his brain tried to reconcile the two words in one sentence, even as his body reacted. She was average height…the perfect height to wrap into his arms, slide his hand into her hair and tilt her lips up…

  Tiny snapped out of his reverie, his eyes narrowing as he clamped down on the reaction of his body to a fine piece of female ass and forced himself to study her.

  She didn't seem the “type” to be a vampire was the first thing to hit him after the immediate “I want” reaction. Vampires, especially the ones who hovered around Moonlight & Magic, played up to the stereotype: pale skin, dark hair, dark clothing… Goths with attitude, or film-vamp knock-offs.

  This one could have been the poster-girl for the wholesome, all-American, girl next door type. Not blonde, but in the light cast by the street lights, he could see her hair wasn't the midnight black most vamps preferred, either. Instead, it contained a waterfall of autumn colors.

  She had a tan, as well—not at all the norm for a vamp. When even a small dose of direct UV turned you into crispy critter, tanning was a high risk option. Fake tan, unless his instincts were fooling him.

  Were they? Was she something other than a vampire?

  For the first time in a couple of hundred years Tiny found himself holding back. He'd always been a player, watching his back and ready for action of any sort—although in the demon courts the more pleasurable kind always came with a price—but this was the first time he'd doubted his instincts.

  Face set, he watched the vamp chick head into the alleyway after the couple and tried to ignore the seductive sway of her hips. He noticed anyway; his body had completely different ideas about the matter, his cock already at half mast in his pants. Damn vampires, messing with a guy's head. He glared at a couple of humans who cut in front of him, then walked into the alley.

  Whatever Tiny had expected from tonight, it wasn't for the problem to be solved before it became a problem. As he entered the alley, he expected to find the vampires fang-deep in the girl's throat—or other appendage of choice. He expected to have to deal with them in short order whilst trying not to get the human killed. His hand was already reaching for one of the stakes along his ribcage when the woman's cool voice drifted on the night air to him.

  "Okay, honey-bun, we can do this the easy way or the hard way… No, now that was just unpleasant, wasn't it? No need for language like that at all, especially in front of a lady… Oh really? How about we don't and say we did…"

  Tiny had barely a second to react as the human was thrust into his arms with a “Here, hold this,” before all hell broke loose.

  To say she was annoyed didn't begin to do justice to the emotions running high through her slender frame as Cassia watched the three musketeers do their “divide and conquer” routine yet again. “You guys never learn, do you?” she muttered as the vampires moved into action, each charming smile digging their graves deeper. New town, new threads…and looked like they'd been here a while, long enough to get themselves established.

  No matter. It was too long. If the agency hadn't called her off in the last place… God, what had the town been called? She shrugged as the name eluded her memory. Second tumbleweed on the left and straight on until morning type of town, total Hicksville… If the agency hadn't called her off the trail to go join the hunt for a rogue angel, she'd have had these three under lock and key a month ago.

  She automatically checked the chains hooked onto the loops of her belt. A buzz of power vibrated against her fingers as they brushed the restraints. The chains were intricately woven Fae-steel, enhanced with magic to make them far more powerful.

  Fae-steel could hold almost any paranormal out there, essential for a woman with a delicate build like Cassia's. Yeah sure, she was a vampire, but contrary to human belief, vampires weren't the biggest badasses walking the dark. Some of the creatures Cassia dealt with in the course of her job were far nastier, so she needed every edge possible.

  Cass was a bounty hunter, one specializing in paranormals. Bounty hunting was a dangerous game at the best of times, even if you dealt strictly with humans. When you didn't, you needed serious kick-ass weaponry…or a death wish.

  A third vampire emerged from the shadows, engaging the lone female—the mark—in conversation. Cass felt the blast of charm as he dazzled his victim and started to draw her towards an alleyway. The two other vampires followed.

  "Thank you, handsome. Dead end alley. That makes my job easier,” Cassia muttered, and pushed off the wall. Her heels clicked against the tarmac as she followed, single-minded on her objective despite the tantalizing scents in the air. Human blood, contained within skin and veins but so close to the surface, called to her. She ignored the rumble in her stomach. Work first, then a snack. She could get lucky later and find someone in the club who wasn't opposed to supplying both her needs; blood and sex.

  Her long strides ate up the tarmac as she crossed the road, hugging the leather biker jacket close about her slender form. Her shiver was automatic and almost authentic. Cass didn't feel the cold. It was an act, and one she was good at.

  Some vampires couldn't fake human. It was all in the details. Most lost the ability once they'd been “dead” a while. A couple of decades later, vampires forget things like breathing and that humans couldn't go statue-still for an hour as they thought about something.

  Cass, though, had been playing human far longer than she'd been one. It helped that she was a turned vampire. Some born-kyn never worked it out, never really understood the minute differences in human and vampire behavior.

  Then there were the ones who knew the differences and knew the rules—there were a fair set of those when you were turned: Don't harm when you feed. Be considerate to your donor. Clean the skin up and don't leave a mark, Cass listed as she turned the corner into the alleyway. Some people knew the rules and broke them anyway.

  Like the three musketeers here.

  She paused a step inside the alley, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. Just as she'd suspected, Charmer, her least favorite of this oily little trio, had his fangs gum-deep in the girl's neck. His arm was locked around her in a no-nonsense hold, snaking under one arm and crosswise across her body to the other shoulder, and one of his hands forced her head over to one side so he could feed. The others watched from the shadows.

  Even from her position at the entrance to the alley Cass could see the girl's face paling, her hands scratching at her captor's arm. The muscles of the vamp's throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes half closed in bliss. A deep sigh escaped Cassia as she flicked her jacket open. “Okay, honey-bun, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

  The vampire lifted his head, lips stained with blood. “Fuck off and get your own food.” He bared his fangs before biting the girl again, a savage strike that made the girl's body jerk like a puppet. The other two moved to his side.

  Cass didn't let her worry for the human show on her face or in her voice. “Now that was just unpleasant. No need for language like that, especially in front of a lady."

  She made her move, her hand reaching past the short stakes holstered at her hip and going straight for the warded chain. The bounty on these three was high so she didn't want to dust the guy. A girl had expenses. The streaks
in her hair alone cost a fortune and the specialized vampire tanning booths? She might as well re-mortgage her condo.

  The vamp chuckled, his eyes raking her slender figure, and he disengaged his fangs for a moment. “Hold your horses, sweetheart, plenty enough for everyone. If you're good, I'll do you while you feed… You look like you need to get laid, help calm you down a bit."

  "Oh, really? How about we don't and say we did…” Cassia glided across the ground between her and the vamp, the movement taking less than a heartbeat.

  "Wha…” Her quarry blinked in surprise. It was obvious he hadn't expected Cass to move so fast, nor the Fae-steel in her hand. Cass suppressed the small smile on her lips. They thought she was a newbie, a baby vamp barely out of her grave.

  She didn't blame them. The human-like coloring, the tan and the streaks in her hair were all designed to give that impression. Surprise was one of her best weapons—no paranormal expected a near-human to be hunting them.

  Stepping back, he thrust the girl at her. Cass took it in stride, sidestepping to catch the human with her free arm. She sensed rather than saw someone enter the alley behind her. The aura, the buzz against her skin was of power, but it didn't have the sharp, zippy feel of another vamp. Taking a chance she spun the girl under her arm and pushed her that way. “Here, hold this."

  The girl taken care of, Cass's attention snapped back to the vamp. He backpedaled, eyes frantic as they moved between her face and the length of chain in her hand. Cass flicked her wrist, snapping the chain out like a whip.

  "You…you…” he stammered, reaching the back of the dead-end alley and looking around for an escape, desperation on his face. Cass had seen it all before. A previously docile paranormal could go skitz at the mere sight of a Fae-steel chain, like the dryad she'd brought in the other week.