Storm the Night

by Zahra Stone

I froze, then turned my head, pinning him with a look. “My place?”

  “You need to change. Unless you want to walk around looking like that? Not your usual standard, I’m sure.”

  Goddamn it, he had me again. Without a word, I reversed, swung the car wide, and moved into drive, peeling away from the hotel with a screech of tires.

  As we drove, my mind was working furiously on a plan. Vampires couldn’t enter your home unless invited. So, by taking me to my apartment, he was doing me a favor. I could get inside, away from him, where he couldn’t control me. I just had to wait out the night, for with the Red Witch lifting the spell that allowed vampires to walk in the daylight, come sunrise, he’d fry.

  There was a small parking lot at the rear of the bakery where staff—and I—could park and a staircase outside the building leading directly to my apartment. Feeling him right behind me, breathing on my neck, I climbed up, trying not to wince at the grated metal of the stairs biting into my bare feet. At the door, I had my key in the lock when his hand gripped the doorknob, holding it shut.

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought of that.” His voice was low, and he was incredibly close, his body lightly touching mine from hip to shoulder.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I lied.

  “Invite me in.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. If I invited him in once, that was it—he would forever have access to my home. I couldn’t un-invite him.

  “No.” I kept my eyes on the door mere inches from my face, felt him stiffen behind me, then press closer.

  His next words were breathed directly in my ear, and I shivered. “Is there anyone you hold dear in this building? Because you, and you alone, will be responsible for what happens next if you do not invite me in. I will set this place ablaze and kill them all—and that will be on you.”

  I swallowed, thinking of the staff working in the bakery. Kay, the owner with her plump figure and pink cheeks, Shaun, the apprentice baker who was so painfully shy he stuttered every time I said hello to him, Martha, the waitress who flirted with everyone, male and female alike, and earned her body weight in tips because of it.

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Try me.”

  I couldn’t risk it, and he knew it, the bastard. He had me. Studying my toes with great concentration, I whispered, “Come in.”

  I didn’t know what I was expecting, a flash of lightning, the sparkling of magic, something at least to mark this momentous occasion, but nothing happened. Nothing changed. He merely twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, ushering me inside with a hand against my back.

  I stepped inside, and he followed. He was in my home. My refuge. I was no longer safe here. I wasn’t safe anywhere anymore, and it rattled me more than I ever thought it would. I was screwed.

  Chapter Four

  “Nice place,” he commented, the sheer size of him dwarfing my tiny living space. He moved to the window, peered out to the street below, then turned and headed back to the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  He looked at me over his shoulder. “Why? Want me to stay?” One brow rose, and his gaze held mine for a long moment.

  “As if.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I frowned. “Why insist on being invited in if you didn’t actually want to be here?”

  “You’re not that naïve,” he drawled. “Get some rest. I’ll be back later; we’ve got work to do.”

  I opened my mouth to ask what work, but he was gone, the door closing silently behind him. And then the shock set in. The devastating truth that I was now beholden to a vampire, and he had free access to my home. The very vermin I despised had made it my work to destroy. Here. In my home.

  Sinking onto the sofa, I cradled my head in my hands and stared blindly at the carpet, my mind whirling. What to do next. I had to do something. I couldn’t sit here and wait for his return. I held my hands out in front of me, the chipped nail polish and two broken nails a blatant reminder of the challenge I’d lost.

  In the kitchen, I pulled an opened bottle of wine from the fridge and poured myself a glass, gulping it down, before refilling the glass and repeating the action. The hit of alcohol helped. Not enough to wipe out the recent events, but enough to ease the shaking. Carrying the glass with me to the bathroom, I examined myself in the mirror. What a red-hot mess. My hair was hanging past my shoulders in a tangled mess, dried blood congealing the knots together. My face bore remnants of blood smears, and my makeup was now streaked down my cheeks, my lipstick smeared around my mouth. I looked like a depressed, suicidal clown.

  I was about to flick on the shower when it hit me. What was I thinking? I couldn’t stay here; I couldn’t be here when he got back! And even though it went against everything I believed about myself, I vetoed repairing my appearance in favor of getting the hell out of Dodge. Rushing into the bedroom, I grabbed a suitcase and began throwing clothes in, then back to the bathroom, where I swiped the contents of the counter into my toiletries bag with no regard for their welfare. My heart rate picked up, sweat beaded my skin as an overwhelming sense of panic settled over me. If this was my flight or fight response kicking in, I was firmly in the flight corner.

  Wearing nothing but the T-shirt he’d given me, I dragged my suitcase to the door, returned to retrieve my Kate Spade leather satchel that doubled as my purse, and slid my laptop into it. Then I flung open the door.

  “Going somewhere?” Nate Wilder stood on my doorstep, one hand against the doorframe. I couldn’t contain the squeal that slipped out. With a sigh, he straightened and placed a hand against my chest, gently pushing me back inside. I almost cried when the door clicked ominously behind him, shutting us in my apartment.

  “I—” I didn’t know what to say, for once lost for words. I was so busted.

  “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear earlier?” Crossing his arms over his chest, he eyeballed me.

  I snorted. Was he serious? Apparently, he was, for he watched me with solemn eyes, his face unreadable. I couldn’t tell if he was angry, disappointed, or somewhere in between.

  “I panicked.” It was the truth. As soon as he’d left my apartment, panic had set in. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, saw him track the movement, and made myself stop. He was reading my body language, understanding me, and I had a feeling he was damn good at it. He nodded, and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to back away when his big body stood in front of me. I stared hard at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “Let me make myself perfectly clear,” he began, no inflection whatsoever in his voice. “We have an agreement. One I expect you to uphold. If you run, if you try to wriggle out of it, I will hunt you down. I have more resources than you can ever imagine. You don’t like me? I don’t care; you’re going to like SIA lockup a lot less.”

  I sucked in a breath. “You’d still arrest me?”

  “Don’t give me cause to. I’m prepared to uphold my end of the bargain, but I’m adding an addendum. You will help me, and you will not run.” Oh, he was brilliant, the bastard. Fear and anger combined, mingling through my blood like a hazy cocktail, heating me, sizzling in the intensity. A spark of electricity danced across my knuckles. Of course, he didn’t miss a thing. His hand completely enveloped mine, my clenched fist tucked inside his palm, his fingers wrapped tight around mine.

  “You have talent.” His voice was so low I had to strain to hear. “But you lack discipline. You react instinctively, without thought. That is what is going to get you killed.”

  “You’re going to kill me?” I squeaked. Since he hadn’t done so when he had the opportunity, I’d naively thought I was off the hook in that regard.

  “Not me. You have it in your head that vampires are the bad guys, Paige Shelton, when you need to open your eyes and see what is happening around you.”

  “What?” I was confused. What was happening around me? He shook his head, released my fist, and began pacing backward and forward along the length o
f the room.

  “How do you know my name?” I zeroed in on him using my name. He cast me a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look.

  “License plates. Address. Ran it through the database. Not exactly difficult.”

  I mulled it over. It made sense. He had the entire SIA at his disposal. Finding out someone’s identity would be a piece of cake for someone like him.

  “Surely you didn’t expect me to accept your rules meekly?” I said, changing tack.

  To my surprise, he laughed. “Anything but, Spitfire.” Suddenly he was in front of me, propelling me back until I fell on the sofa, trapped with his arms on either side of my head, all humor gone. “We had an agreement. I was under the impression you were an honorable person. Am I mistaken?”

  He hit me where it hurt, and I winced. I put a lot of pride in honoring my word, and he hit the nail on the head. I had agreed to his terms, never mind that I hadn’t wanted to, never mind that it had been my own stupid fault getting myself into such a situation in the first place.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, closing my eyes to avoid looking at him.

  “I don’t want your apology,” he ground out. “I want your word. You agreed to help me in return for your freedom. Does that still stand?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Look at me.” His frustration was evident. Reluctantly I opened my eyes and looked directly into his. The gray swirled like a stormy night, darkening at the edges. They were really quite mesmerizing. A shiver danced over my skin when his fingers curled along my jaw. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.

  “Do. We. Have. A. Deal?” I knew this was the last time he’d ask me, that if he didn’t like my answer, I was going to find myself in cuffs in an SIA cell. And I had agreed. No matter that I wished I hadn’t, I had, and I was a woman whose word meant something.

  “We have a deal,” I whispered.

  “You won’t try to renege? Wriggle out of it? Run?” he pressed.

  “Why do you need my help so badly?” Some of my fight was coming back, for it occurred to me the grip he had along my jaw was gentle, almost a caress, and his eyes were anything but hard.

  “Answer me first.” His eyes moved to my mouth, and I couldn’t help but run my tongue along my lower lip. What the hell was I doing? It seemed he wanted to know too, for he moved closer still, his mouth a hairsbreadth from mine. “And don’t think seducing me will get you out of this. I will take what you offer, but nothing will change.” My breath hitched. The way he said “take” had my stomach clenching, and a tingling I hadn’t felt in a long time started low in my abdomen. I almost groaned at the irony of it all. Me, a vampire slayer, attracted to the very creature I hunted.

  “You have my word—I will not run or try to get out of our deal.” As soon as the words left my mouth, he kissed me. Hard. And then he was standing on the opposite side of the room, watching me with hooded eyes as I dazedly touched my fingers to my lips.

  “What was that?” I breathed, dazed at the turn of events.

  “Surely you don’t need me to explain?” he mocked, arms once again crossed. “The way you dress, the way you move, tells me you’re a hot-blooded woman who’s had her share of kisses.”

  “The way I dress? Seriously? You want to go down that road?”

  “Nah. I just played that back in my head, and I sound like a dick.”

  His admission and self-deprecating humor threw me.

  “Relax. It was just a kiss,” he said.

  “Seriously?” I sputtered, torn between liking this big, badass, sexy as fucking sin vampire and wanting to kill him.

  “Seriously. And I warned you that trying to seduce me would change nothing. Except, of course, we’d be having hot sex.”

  Images flashed in my mind of exactly how hot the sex would be with Nate Wilder. I swallowed, acknowledging I was in over my head with this vampire. He made me feel things I did not want to feel; he made me question my own judgment and decisions, and I didn’t like it.

  “Back to my question.” I cleared my throat and crossed my arms over my chest, mimicking his pose. “Why do you need my help?”

  “There is someone in Maxxan that I need to track down. Only he can sense me a mile off. I need someone to run interference for me, to distract him and lure him out of hiding without him being any the wiser.”

  “I’m bait.” I huffed, affronted.

  “Spitfire, you’ve been using yourself as bait to lure those vampires to your warehouse. This is nothing different.”

  “Fine. Then what? You want me to lure this vampire to my warehouse, and then?”

  “Then I interrogate him.” He shrugged as if the answer was obvious. Which I supposed it was.

  “So, this someone…is a big deal?” They had to be if he was after them, but he surprised me by shaking his head.

  “There are no high rollers in Maxxan, but he has information that will be useful to my investigation.”

  “What investigation?”

  “Classified.” His lips quirked when I huffed.

  A headache was forming behind my eyes, and I squeezed the bridge of my nose.

  “Are you all right?” It couldn’t be concern I heard in his voice, not coming from a blood-sucking vampire. “You’re a little pale.”

  “I’m fine.” I got to my feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness that swept over me. I was tired, that’s all. I angled my head toward the door. “You can go. I promised I wouldn’t run, and I won’t. But I’d like to get cleaned up and get some rest.”

  He studied me intently for a moment before nodding his head. “I’ll see you at sunset tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be here,” I promised.

  The door closed, and finally, I felt like I could breathe. Retrieving my laptop from its bag, I set it back up on my desk and logged in, all the while thinking about Nate Wilder, how he’d moved, the speed and strength he had. It was my own fault that I’d been beaten so thoroughly. I hadn’t researched my prey, had thought that because I’d successfully taken down over a dozen vampires, he would be no different. But I’d overlooked something significant. He was SIA. He had training. Elite training. And although I was well-schooled in self-defense, it didn’t compare, not even remotely.

  I typed in his name in the internet browser. What appeared on my screen surprised me, and I read with round eyes.

  Nate was one wealthy vampire. He owned several properties in Redmeadows, including the Crimson Mist nightclub. He lived in the Garden District in a big old mansion, no less. Of course, the results didn’t allude to his species status. Vampire. Jordan had drummed into all of us that the number one law of the Supernatural Investigation Agency was to keep the public unaware of paranormals. Only those who needed to know knew.

  My research ended with photo after photo of Nate with a stream of beautiful women hanging off his arm. I stared hard at the images on my screen and couldn’t deny Nate Wilder was as handsome as fuck. He was also a womanizer, judging by the photos. He was rarely seen with the same woman twice, and I wondered if these women were merely food for him.

  Slamming down the lid of the laptop, I ran my fingers through my hair only to be halted by the dried blood still trapped amongst the strands. Damn it, I was a mess. In the bathroom, I flicked on the tap in the shower—I was long overdue.

  Chapter Five

  Surprisingly, I slept through the rest of the night and most of the following morning, not stirring until my cell phone dinged, indicating a text message.

  “Delivery for you, hun.” It was from downstairs. My online purchases were delivered to the bakery, and I felt a little quiver of anticipation. I was expecting my Yves Saint Laurent facial cream today.

  “Thanks, sweetie. I’ll be down soon,” I typed back. Then smiled. This felt normal. This was the life I was used to. Had everything that had happened with Nate been a bad dream? Laughing to myself, I slid out of bed, doubtful. His commanding presence was too intense for any dream. As I’d drifted off to sleep last night, my mind had been fixated
on one thing—how could I possibly find a vampire attractive? We’d been brought up thinking all vampires were evil. But this man, this vampire… I had a sneaking suspicion he was honorable. After all, he was the Director of the SIA. They wouldn’t let an asshole take that position, surely? Although, considering human politics, who knew?

  Dressing in a white cotton eyelet Dolce and Gabbana maxi dress, I braided my hair over one shoulder, applied my usual day wear makeup, slid my feet into a pair of Saint Laurent sandals, and skipped downstairs to get my package. Outside, the sun was shining, another stinking hot day in Maxxan, and tilting my face to the sun, I smiled. Fire demons love the heat, and I was no exception. I toyed with taking a trip out to Grandma’s old house, now Rae’s, and running around naked in the sunlight, just to recharge, but work beckoned. If I wanted to keep myself well stocked in designer clothes—and I did—then I needed to get my fingers to the keyboard and bring in more clients. Too bad the vampire hunting business didn’t pay.

  The lunch crowd had thinned in the bakery, and I only had to wait a few minutes to be served. I never collected a package without buying something; it was an ingrained habit. Today I’d chosen an iced tea and a muffin and settled myself at a seat near the window to wait for my order. That was when I heard them. Two teenage boys, whispering to each other, only they were loud whispers. I could easily listen to what they were saying, and to say I was concerned was an understatement.

  “You got them?” one asked.

  There was a rustling, then the other replied, “Yeah! Enough for two girls. One each.” There was a smile in that voice, an indication they were pleased with whatever it was they had purchased.

  “Who should we give them to?”

  “I reckon Shannon. She’s so fucking hot, man, yet she won’t even look at me. Bitch. I’m gonna fuck her up. You?”

  “Becky. I’ve always liked her.”

  I sucked in a breath and held it, not liking where my imagination was going. I didn’t hear right, did I? They weren’t planning on drugging these girls, were they?