Cimmerian Shade: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

by Kiki Howell

  "What the hell does that mean? Takeshi is a freak. You've seen his tattoos? Yeah, he's got them on his fucking dick." He raised his hand up as Tristan cocked a curious brow. "Don't ask me how I know that, but all I'm saying is, he's always been a fucking freak, so don't let him get to you."

  "I killed a vampire tonight, Dashiell."

  "What?" Dashiell's eyes widened. "When?... Who?"

  "During the fight. I think his name was Claude or something. He was attacking us and was about to try and kill me." Tristan's tired eyes looked over to Dashiell. "So I killed him."

  Dashiell couldn't process what Tristan was saying. It couldn't be possible. It just couldn't. "You're saying that vampires were involved in Ivana's assassination?"

  Tristan nodded as he kicked back another shot, finally starting to feel a buzz. "Yep."

  Dashiell looked around, concerned if any suspicious ears were hovering about, possibly overhearing Tristan's revelation. He blew out an exasperated sigh, still processing what he’d just said.

  "That's....that's....crazy."

  Tristan's face was deadpan. "Yeah, so thought The Three. They didn't take my report very well, as you can imagine."

  Dashiell shrugged. "It doesn't mean they're guilty, Tristan. You know I hate The Three. They're fucking showboaters, elitists, and manipulators. But they never took kindly to vampires who kill their own kind. You know that. They've done some sick shit to vampires who broke that law, just to set an example."

  Tristan grunted in frustration. "He was vampire, Dashiell. I know what I saw."

  Dashiell gave Tristan a quelling glare. "Look, I'm not discounting what you saw, Tristan. I don't think you would be mistaken about this." He whispered. "But think about what this means. You're implying that The Three had something to do with the knowledge of a vampire being involved with a vampire diplomat's death. That's some heavy shit, Tristan." He looked around. "It's dangerous, and there are ears and eyes about."

  "You think I don't know that?" Tristan scowled at him, his voice escalating from inebriation and anger. His eyes, like daggers, cut into Dashiell. "You just keep your ears and eyes open. And don't believe everything they tell you."

  Tristan stood up from the table and shrugged his coat on. He glared at Dashiell as he threw a few bills on the table. "Something fucking stinks about all of this. Now, you can either help or stay the hell outta my way." He whipped around and stormed out of the bar, pushing vampires out of his way to get to the exit.

  He heard Dashiell call for him, but he kept going. He wasn't in the mood to explain himself anymore. He knew he was in this all alone, and that was perfectly fine. Him against the world was just how he liked it.

  TYPICALLY, TRISTAN would pace the ledge of the old Byzantine cathedral and think about what the hell he was going to do next. It was his place to reflect when life just got too outta hand. However, as he passed the structure, with the boarded doors, all he could think of was how Ivana made her stand and died there.

  Her death had marred everything decent he had. He looked up to the top of the cathedral where he usually would be and sighed. There was nothing but demons there now on that ledge, so he continued to head to his home, knowing dawn was coming.

  Tristan no sooner entered the foyer of his home when he heard the rustling of metal upstairs and began to bare his teeth to attack. His gun drawn from his holster, he snarled at the thought of someone invading sanctuary.

  Someone has the gall to invade my home after the shit I've been through today?

  His body tense, he leapt to the top of the stairs, checking around the hall until he focused on his bedroom door, closed, with light shining from under it. His senses still buzzing from the alcohol, he paused to get his bearings, letting the adrenaline stomp down his inebriation.

  Ready to eliminate the threat, Tristan lunged and kicked down his bedroom door. With his gun drawn, he froze as his eyes met with the stark, violet eyes of a woman crouched on his bed.

  His mouth gaped open as she pulled against glowing chains that were shackled to her wrists and ankles, the metal brushing against the bare flesh of her stomach, and lace-covered breasts. Her abundant auburn hair cascaded down her back as she struggled to get to her knees as she faced him. She was breath-taking among the black satin of his bed, and Tristan's eyes lingered over her from the full pout of her lips all the way down to the lacy black triangle at the meeting of her thighs.

  Okay... It wasn’t his birthday... and what was in that fucking drink?

  Her scowling face was less than pleased at Tristan's ogling. She pulled against the chains with a loud clink that brought Tristan back to earth.

  "Take this off of me now!" Her eyes were thin slits as she glared at him.

  Tristan moved closer to her, looking around the room for anyone else that decided to drop in on him. The only anomaly there was the woman wearing nothing but strange chains and underwear on his bed.

  His gun still drawn and aimed at her, he finally responded. "Who the hell are you? And why the hell are you here? I didn't order a blood-bag stripper."

  Zoë sneered at him viciously. "I'm not a stripper, you asshole! Now turn me loose or I'll rip your heart out!" She barked out through gritted teeth.

  Tristan gave her a smirk. "Woo hoo, strong talk for a woman who can't move three inches from where she is." He chambered a round in his gun. "Now, I'll ask you once more. Who the hell are you?"

  He paused as she suddenly took a deep breath and inhaled him and the air around him.

  "Damn it," she cursed beneath her breath as she realized what he was.

  Her senses reeling, she desperately tried to focus on her lucidity as her body primed itself for the hunt.

  NO! Not until I find out why I'm here in this jerk's room, she pleaded with herself. Focus. Focus. But it was too late. He was so close now, so very tempting and her body would not listen to reason. It was the nature of her kind, and yet she despised herself for it.

  Tristan tried to shake the cloudiness from his head as he stared at her. All he could think of was ripping that delicate fabric from her body and plunging deep into her, then sinking his fangs into her lush, radiant skin and sampling her life force. He moved closer to her as she leaned back against the bed, her ethereal eyes seductive and enchanting. Tristan stopped at the edge of the bed, nothing but the iron rail to stop him from moving even closer.

  But something in the back of his mind urged that it wasn't right. The need to sate himself with her made him want to tear the heavens down just to have her. This maddening, clawing sense of urgency that was so hot, it threatened to burn away all sense of reasoning.

  Even him stopping against the railing made his body burn for her. An insatiable need to taste her, to take her, like some unknown force drove him to her like a rabbit to a snare. The feeling was so innate and primal, Tristan felt he could eagerly walk through all the flames of hell just to taste her now. It was what some would call pure insanity.

  He lowered his gun.

  She crooked a finger to him to come closer, and he obeyed, moving to the side of the bed, finally dropping his gun to the floor. Reaching for him, she closed her mouth on his, pressing her body against him.

  Tristan growled at her bare, olive flesh rubbing against the folds of his clothes. He could feel all of her now, as if there were no clothing between them. It made his body hard, throbbing. Never had he wanted to be inside someone with every fiber of his lost soul with such a hunger. Her full lips plundered him, greedy and lustful. He was already painfully erect, pulling at his coat to remove it as her mouth assaulted him in the most sinful way possible.

  Zoë, you have to get a grip. She called within herself, as her tongue darted into his mouth, brushing against his fangs. He had the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, as if he had just come from feeding.

  The ripple of his flesh beneath his clothes begged her to strip him to see all of the sinew he hid from her gaze. When his erection poked against her stomach, she groaned at the promise of it. Every mo
lecule in her body was honed to seduce him. To take him and make him hers...

  The bastard deserves to die. He had just fed, probably off a human. Kill him now!

  She shook her head, trying to dismiss the huntress in her, clawing to get out. If she let it take over, this vampire was as good as dead. If she would reject it, the enthrallment would tear her soul to pieces. But this was not a 'stake the vampire, ask questions later' kinda situation. He's the only one who could help her out of the chains and probably out of this mess she somehow found herself in. She hated to admit it, but she needed the stupid vamp.

  Just a little more, then you can kill him. Bite him!

  "NO!"

  Hissing, Zoë broke away, pushing him away from her. "Get away, damn you!"

  Tristan shook the haze from his head as he saw her writhe on the bed in pain. His bedroom suddenly filled with the tortured screams of the woman as she convulsed and shook on his bed. He started to reach for her when he saw her back as she pressed her stomach against the bed, screaming. Then she collapsed.

  He went cold at what he saw.

  Tristan stepped back as he saw the elaborate tattoo on her back - wings so beautifully crafted, one would have sworn the black feathers on her bare skin were actually real. But he knew exactly what those wings represented.

  Oh, fuck me!

  They were the symbol of the clipped wings of the league of angels who chose to fall in order to protect mankind.

  Vampires were never at the top of the food chain, as much as they'd like to think so. They had slayers as well; stronger and more gifted than any Buffy or Van Helsing a human could conjure up in their fantasy world.

  They, and they alone were the true rulers of the night.

  Black Blood Slayers, demons that had the power to lure a vampire from miles away if they chose,could draw anything without a soul and bend some of those creatures to their will. They were the supreme angels of death to vampires and the lesser demons on earth. They were beautiful, cunning, and absolutely lethal. Vampires unfortunate enough to encounter one did not live to talk about the experience.

  Yeah, the night just kept getting better.

  Here was one, right in his bed.

  Chapter Six: Killer Looks

  ZOË’S EYES EASED open to focus on a single lamp burning on the nightstand across the room. Groaning, she began to feel the sharp stabs of aching that penetrated every time she moved. Her face flush on the mattress, she rose with apprehension to scan the room, gasping as pain shot through her neck like someone had their 2-ton foot pressing down on it.

  It made her nauseous, her stomach in knots. Moving her hand, the clink of the metal reminded her she was still restrained.

  Suddenly, she froze as she heard the cocking of a gun in the dark of the corner.

  "Rise n' shine, princess," a cold, deep voice cut through the dark silence.

  Breathing through the aches, Zoë looked through the darkness to see a figure sitting in the darkness next to the lamp. Restrained and hurting, she was at the mercy of the stranger in the room. "Who, who are you?"

  "That's my question, not yours." Tristan replied, his gun aimed at the beauty on the bed. Slowly, he turned up the light on the lamp to reveal his grim and tired face. It was the middle of the day, and he hadn't had a wink of sleep. What vampire in their right mind would feel comfortable shutting their eyes with a Black Blood Slayer in the same fucking area code, let alone same room?

  Staying up past dawn really sucked, because all it did was suck the energy right out of a vampire. Some more than others, of course, and luckily, it's more bearable with age. Living for over four centuries had his perks; however, he couldn't tell if his crappy feeling was a result of staying up too late, getting drunk. or finding a half-naked Black Blood Slayer in his bed.

  "Let's do us both a favor and cut through the bullshit. I don't know who you are, but I sure as shit know what you are. So who sent you?"

  Zoë tried to think back, but couldn't remember anything past waking up in chains on the bed. Whoever put her there knew just how to subdue her. The chains would not allow her to phase out or break them on her own. She slowly, painfully shook her head.

  "I don't know. I can't remember anything, but—"

  Tristan leaned closer, allowing her to see the desert eagle pistol staring her in the face. "I'm done with liars, biters, and manipulators, so you better start talking, or you're going to be in for a world of pain."

  She frowned at his threat, finding herself staring at the barrel. "You're really gonna shoot me in the face?"

  Tristan gave a quiet nod. "Right in your fucking face."

  She glared at him. "Well, if you knew what I really am, then you know that gun won't do you any good."

  "The rounds are blessed."

  Zoë scoffed, trying to call his bluff. "You sure about that, Vamper?"

  Tristan leaned closer with the aimed pistol barrel to her wide-eyed face. "Only one way to find out."

  She stiffened at his earnest suggestion. "Look! I told you, I don't know! I don't know how I got here, and I don't know who hell you are! All I know is that you're a blood sucker, and I'm sully-chained to your shitty bed!"

  She sighed and lowered her voice. "Look, I mean you no harm. Please, free me."

  Tristan shook his head. 'I mean you no harm', said no Black Blood Slayer, ever, he thought to himself. "What's sully-chained?"

  "If I tell you, will you release me?"

  His voice chilled even more. "No, but I'll be less likely to test that hypothesis on if one of these bullets to your face will end you. Now, what's sully-chained?"

  Tristan looked at the chains that seemed to have inscriptions and symbols etched on the links. They glowed right off the chain.

  Zoë sighed. "Normal chains can't hold my kind, obviously. These chains are enchanted with spells to keep us in our solid state and restrain us. They are used to punish a Black Blood who's led astray, not to deliver us to our target!"

  No Slayer would ever present themselves in such a vulnerable position. No weapons, no clothes. Just chained up like some animal. Only a few beings were able to do something like this, and none of the suspects made any sense to her. None.

  "You're still sticking to the story that no one has sent you here to kill me, right? Despite the fact you're a fucking Black Blood Slayer in a vampire's bed. Doesn't that strike you as kinda odd?"

  Tristan didn't like this one bit. Ivana was killed by vampires. No one saw said vampires, but when he told others he saw them, all of a sudden he's greeted with a Black Blood Demon in his home? She was just waiting to enthrall and kill him.

  Zoë growled and racked against the chains.

  Tristan cocked an eyebrow. "Careful, don't bruise yourself, princess."

  "Argghhhh! Of course it's odd!" Zoë exclaimed through gritted teeth, seething. "I don't know how I got here! When we are sent to this plane to kill the soulless, we come of our own free will. We don't come gift wrapped, chained like some tiger, trying to seduce our fucking target in a bedroom!"

  Zoë breathed in deeply, slowly exhaling the air from her lungs. It pained her to even breathe, and despite the ache, it wasn't long before another wave of enthrallment would come.

  She could feel it. But if she tried it again restrained, he'd either get smart and kill her or she'd kill him and never get free from the sully chain.

  She couldn't give two shits what he thought, but she was telling the truth. None of this was authorized, and even though no one found it out of line to kill a vampire, she really had no orders to end him.

  She cut her green eyes to him. "I'm going to very , very slowly sit up, okay?"

  Tristan kept his eyes locked on her. "Very, very slowly, please."

  He quietly watched as Zoë eased herself up from her palms, the soft roll of her body reminding him of a wave. The curve of her shoulders, down to the dip of her tattooed back and back up cresting to the delectable curve of her round, bare, derriere, threatened to charm him like a snake in a basket.<
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  Her long, curly hair flipped to her back as she settled on her knees, sitting on back of her legs. Her caramel skin had a radiant glow, almost ethereal as his eyes followed the line of her against the lacy, black underwear.

  It didn't leave much to the imagination, but sometimes an imagination was overrated. Tristan had other women grace his bed, but none quite like this one. He had to hand it to whoever had delivered her to him, she definitely was Satan in a beautiful, Sunday hat.

  He couldn't help but to think how close he would have come to death if he hadn’t had his guard up. Even with it, he vaguely remembered tasting her lips as if they had held the last drop of water in the wake of a dying world.

  Zoë could feel his eyes on her, his deep stare hidden under the cover of darkness. She should have been used to it—the staring. After all, that is what she was designed for.

  Their beauty was supposed to be magnetic and hypnotic, always drawing the soulless to their will. Her people were the fallen angels that dedicated their lives to protect the souls of man from the soulless, especially from dirty vampires. Shut out from the divine light, Black Blood Demons dwelled between two planes. One was earth, the other, nothing like heaven.

  "Despite me being chained earlier, I could have killed you. I was going to kill you... but I didn't. I didn't because I was not assigned to hunt you. I was chained here, but I wasn't given orders to kill you, don't you understand? I'm not going to hurt you, so please release me."

  Tristan sat back and sighed. He should kill her. It's all he'd thought about since he had come to the realization of what she was.

  Like their angel brethren, Black Blood Slayers appeared on earth for a reason, to avenge, slaughter or punish.

  Who had sent her? Black Blood Slayers were rare on earth, but when they came, the streets ran red with the blood of vampires. Blood and ash—it's all they left behind. They didn't even have to work hard, as they were able to enthrall vampires, just like vampers were able to enthrall humans.

  It was what she had done to him earlier—making him want to mount her and taste her like a crazy dog in heat. It was the ultimate trap to spring on a vampire. The smell of their blood was intoxicating and their bodies so beautiful and full of life—no blood sucker could resist.