Blood Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

Rosalind’s heart skipped a beat, and she sucked in a breath, trying to gain control.

  Caine studied her carefully. “Have you been waiting for me, just outside my room?”

  She shook her head. Heat raced through her body, and she could hardly think straight.

  He looked amused. “Your pulse is racing. Something wrong?”

  She swallowed hard, willing her heart to slow down. Yes, she wanted him—but she didn’t want him to realize how badly. It would give him too much control over her. She schooled her face to calm. “My pulse is always fast. It’s a medical condition. Anyway, I was just walking past your room.”

  “So this little encounter is purely a coincidence.” He arched a disbelieving eyebrow.

  “I’m on my way to see Tammi.”

  “You’ve been avoiding me. Until now, when you’ve come to my room with your heart racing.”

  Rosalind’s forehead crinkled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You couldn’t avoid me forever, whether you wanted to or not. Tomorrow, Ambrose wants us to work on the daywalker spell. You, Miranda, and me.”

  “Fine.”

  He cocked his head, owning her body with his gaze—up and down. “I see you’re well-prepared for a fight.”

  She crossed her arms. How does he know that? “Can you see through my clothes?”

  “I could if I concentrated—and it’s a tempting thought—but I don’t need to. I can see the outline of the weapons strapped to your thighs.” He brushed his fingertips over the hilt of one of her knives.

  She glanced down at his hand, her heart beating frantically. Had she never noticed before the strength in those large hands? She could imagine them tracing up the inside of her thigh…

  She tightened her jaw; her cheeks warmed. Get a grip, Rosalind.

  She was pretty sure Cleo was making this harder than it needed to be. “I need the weapons. Despite Ambrose’s edict, the vampires aren’t fond of me.”

  “Of course. You were a Hunter.”

  “That, and Ambrose has told them to bring me food, like they’re my servants. I know how they think of humans—we’re supposed to be slaves, dressed in lingerie. Some of the vamps apparently think we exist to fulfill every demon desire.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Do you view any of them in particular as a threat?”

  “I don’t think so. They seem well-aware of Ambrose’s edict. But they believe my place is in the harem, and they’re particularly affronted about the muffins.”

  “Would you suggest that Ambrose stop sending you food? I do remember how lustfully you attack your meals. I can’t imagine you turning them away.”

  “Let’s not be drastic,” she said. “Ambrose can keep the food coming, and I’ll just keep the weapons strapped to my thighs.”

  Even as she struggled for control of herself, a new idea began to form in her mind. She wanted Caine. Badly. And maybe there was a way to use that desire to her advantage…

  A seed of an idea began to germinate, taking root in her mind. Was it Cleo’s thought, or her own?

  A wicked smile curled Caine’s lips. “Why do I feel like you have a second option in mind?”

  Her chest heated. A vision bloomed: Caine’s fingertips running up the inside of her thigh as she sat draped over his lap. She wore nothing but lacy, black underwear, and her back arched as he stroked her skin, his fingers moving higher and higher up her leg...

  Her heartbeat thundered, so loud she was certain the entire hallway could hear it. And she was sure Caine could see the blush creeping into her cheeks.

  Still, that one tempting idea began to bloom in her mind. Let the damn vampires think she was a courtesan—Caine’s courtesan. After all, wasn’t it an advantage to let your enemies underestimate you? Caine had taught her that.

  She couldn’t quite decide if it was genius, or if she was driven by Caine’s overwhelming beauty. But the more she thought it over, the more it seemed to make sense.

  She exhaled slowly, and tried to compose her thoughts. “The other option is that I let them think I’m a courtesan, I suppose. Just to stop them from deciding they need to kill me. Let them think I’m as harmless as any other courtesans—the ones who live by the arsenal of weapons no one bothers to lock up.”

  His eyes darkened, and heat radiated off his body. Just standing near him was turning her on. Her obvious arousal was embarrassing, and more than that—it was drawing out his incubus instincts.

  Cleo’s aura stroked her ribs. Tell him what you want him to do to you—where you want him to touch you.

  Rosalind licked her lips, staring up at Caine. “Maybe they could think I was your courtesan. To play down my real power.”

  Boxing her in, he pressed his hands to the stone wall on either side of her head. He smelled amazing, and she had the strongest impulse to press her mouth against his neck.

  “Is that really what you want?” he asked.

  Excitement prickled over her skin, and she took a deep, steadying breath. His sweater was a thin, gray wool, and she wanted to stroke his muscled chest under the fabric. Where do Cleo’s thoughts end and mine begin? Surely she hadn’t been this crazy before Cleo had started taking up real estate in her mind.

  She gazed up at his perfect face. What was the point in denying herself? “I think it’s a good idea.”

  Her stomach fluttered. Could he see right through her?

  Caine lowered his face to hers. “And what do you want me to do to you?” he whispered.

  “You know,” she said.

  “I want you to say it out loud.”

  His powerful aura licked at her skin, and heat shot through her. Already, her back was arching. Sweet heavenly gods, I’m in trouble.

  “Just kiss me, in front of the vampires.” She swallowed hard, trying to think clearly. “It’s only for their benefit, of course.”

  He leaned in closer, his breath warming the side of her face. “I see. We need the vampires.”

  His magic curled from his body, reaching down the corridor in silver tendrils. Within seconds, the hallway doors creaked open. Vampires began creeping into the hall, slipping through the shadows like ink through water.

  Dozens of gleaming eyes locked onto Rosalind.

  “We’re not alone now,” Caine whispered into her ear.

  Her pulse was racing out of control, and she tried to slow her breathing. Her skin grew hot. She was getting dangerously turned on, and she had the mortifying feeling that Caine was enjoying his control over her.

  He leaned in, skimming his teeth over her throat. At the contact, her thoughts became muddled. All she could process was that her legs seemed to be opening against her will. Slowly, he trailed kisses up her neck, until he stared into her eyes once more. There was a certain ferocity in his gaze, and she was sure he was holding back.

  He ran his thumb over her lower lip. “Tell me. You want me to kiss you properly?”

  Cleo’s aura simmered. Why are you denying yourself what you want? You’ll be dead someday. Get it while you can.

  Oddly enough, the dead mage’s words made a strange amount of sense. “Yes,” she said simply.

  His eyes slowly slide slid over her body, as if he were was undressing her with his eyes.

  Then, he traced his fingertips down her arms and gripped her wrists. He raised them above her head, pinning them to the wall. Helplessly, she gazed up at his cold gray eyes, completely mesmerized. Her blood roared through her veins.

  So this is what it feels like to be in the thrall of an incubus.

  Caine leaned down, pressing his warm lips to hers. His kiss grew hungry, his lips parting, and a low growl rose from deep in his chest. As he kissed her, his grip tightened on her wrists, as if he was losing a little of that control.

  His muscled body pressed against hers, and she opened her mouth to him. His tongue brushed against hers, and fire shot through her belly.

  As his mouth claimed hers, she lost all sense of time and space, no longer sure where her body ended and his began, o
nly that she wanted more of him.

  Slowly, he ran his hands down her arms. His hands skimmed lower over her body, until he was grabbing her ass and, pulling her closer into him.

  She needed more of him, didn’t even care that they were standing before a crowd of vampires.

  Just when she thought she could no longer remember how to speak, he pulled away, with a nip at her lower lip. Her legs turned to liquid.

  Caine took a deep breath, his eyes now black.

  Rosalind wanted to strip off her dress right there and throw him to the floor. Gods, I need him now.

  He stared into her eyes. Soft as a feather, his fingertips skimmed up her body again, sending shivers through her. The gentleness of his touch was pure torture. She’d seen him fight before—brutally, viciously—and she’d never have expected such a predatory creature to be capable of such a soft touch.

  She gasped as he traced his hand higher, grazing her breast over her silk dress. Her breath hitched in her throat.

  This was a strange sort of agony. She wanted him now, wanted to wrap her legs around his hips, and yet he moved so painfully slowly, like he had all the time in the world.

  Gently, he trailed his thumb just over her hardened nipple. The silk strap of her dress slid down her shoulder, and he leaned in again, kissing her neck. A dizzying warmth surged in her as he grazed his teeth along her throat.

  A low moan escaped her throat, and she felt his muscles tense in response, like he was struggling to keep control.

  She needed the hardness of his body pressing against her. She was ready to beg him to run his tongue all over her body.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her eyes. Over Caine’s shoulder, her gaze landed on Esmerelda. The vampire eyed Rosalind with a satisfied smirk.

  Suddenly, Rosalind’s stomach tightened, and her blood cooled instantly.

  Another body for the whore pit.

  The phrase rang in her mind, and Rosalind’s cheeks burned. Gods below. At the sight of Esmerelda, her blood cooled instantly.

  As Caine raised his face for another kiss, she forced herself to tilt her head away. She desperately wanted his mouth on hers again, but one more look at the redhead dampened her excitement.

  She’d needed them to underestimate her, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to subject herself to a full blown display of humiliation in front of Esmerelda.

  “I should go,” she managed.

  A tendril of hair stuck to her damp cheek, and Caine brushed it away.

  His breath warmed the shell of her ear. “If you don’t want them to think you’ve got above your station, you need to let me end our encounter. Don’t take this personally.” He brushed his thumb over her collarbone again, then whispering, “Don’t take this personally.”

  Casually, he released his grip on her, stepping away. With a completely composed expression, he sighed. “On second thought, I’m not in the mood.”

  Rosalind could feel herself turn red, and she pulled up her dress. The vampires stared at her, eyes wide. Surely her heart was beating loud enough to entice all of them. Suddenly, she had a deep desire to crawl back into the shadows and hide.

  And there was Caine, cooly strutting away, completely unruffled. Like he did this all the time.

  And, realistically? He probably did.

  Esmerelda snickered behind her hand, and Rosalind crossed her arms in front of her chest. A large blond male leered at her hungrily, licking his lips.

  Time to go, she thought.

  Just as Rosalind took a step to leave, Caine pivoted, glaring at the vampires. “You do realize she belongs to me. I might not be using her now, but she is mine alone. Only I may touch her. Is that clear?”

  Rosalind’s head was spinning, and she could hardly string a coherent thought together.

  As she hurried away from the vampires, she stared at the floor, ignoring Esmerelda’s victorious smirk. Nothing more than tits and ass, she’d said. I hope you can lay off now, Ginger Vamp.

  She shivered as she stalked down the hall, away from the hungry eyes of the vampires. Well, that’s not how I expected my night to go.

  Could she blame Cleo for that little episode? If she didn’t find a way to get control of Cleo’s influence, her second soul would drag her into a whole lot of trouble. The woman clearly had no boundaries.

  Chapter 5

  Outside Tammi’s door, Rosalind took a deep breath, trying to forget the feel of Caine’s fingertips skimming over her skin. When her pulse had slowed to a nearly-normal rate, she knocked on the door.

  Her muscles tensed as she waited for a a few moments. How do you ask your best friend about her blood hunger? This was definitely a situation she’d never had to handle before.

  She knocked again, a little louder. After a few more moments, the door swung open. Tammi’s eyes were wide, blazing like stars. Her long silver hair tumbled over a thin black dress. Her skin was milky white.

  “What?” she asked irritably.

  Nothing, just…do you want to drink my blood? Rosalind cleared her throat. “You ran off quickly at the picnic, so I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “I’m not in the mood to be around other people.” Tammi crossed to a small dressing table, and sat on a stool in front of it. She narrowed her eyes at her own reflection, her entire body tense.

  Rosalind stepped inside, glancing around the room. Steel-gray fabric draped over the bed, and candles flickered from a chandelier. The dressing table stood against the stone wall, complete with a mirror. Tammi sat in front of it, gazing at her own reflection. She picked up a hairbrush and began brushing her tresses. “I’m not the same anymore,” she said with a low growl.

  Rosalind sat at the edge of Tammi’s bed, her fingers curling around a blanket. “Not the same how?”

  “Not the same,” Tammi snarled. “Hungry.”

  Rosalind’s mouth went dry. “Maybe I should go—”

  Tammi’s face contorted with rage, and she flung her hairbrush at the looking glass. She whirled, lunging for Rosalind. In the next moment, her teeth were on Rosalind’s throat.

  Without thinking, Rosalind flung her friend off, then punched her in the jaw.

  Tammi stumbled back, a shocked look on her face. Rosalind stood, holding out her hands to the side. Easy, girl. Tentatively, she took a few steps back toward the door. She had plenty of sharp demon-hunting weapons, but she didn’t want to use them on Tammi—nor did she particularly want her throat ripped out this evening. “I don’t want to hurt you, Tammi. I’m just going to walk out of the room.”

  Apparently no longer capable of human speech, Tammi growled. Her sharp teeth glinted in the candlelight.

  Rosalind took another step back. Easy does it. Nearly at the door. If she made any sudden movements, those pointed teeth would end up buried somewhere in her flesh.

  Tammi snarled, and the sound rumbled through Rosalind’s gut. Not really Tammi anymore. She took another step back, and spoke in her most soothing voice. “I’ll just leave you to… brush your hair and stare in the mirror. Everything is fine.”

  She fumbled behind her for the doorknob until her fingers touched the silver. Got it. She turned the knob and yanked open the door. Freedom!

  But just as she stepped into the hall, Tammi lunged again, knocking her to the stone floor.

  “Stop it!” Rosalind lifted her hips, grabbing Tammi by the hair to pull her off. She rolled on top of her friend, pinning her arms to the floor. Tammi roared, baring her teeth.

  “I said stop it!” Rosalind yelled. “Get a hold of yourself, woman!”

  Tammi blinked, as if suddenly awaking. Slowly, her fingers unclenched from Rosalind’s hair.

  Footsteps echoed off the ceiling, and Rosalind looked up. Darren was walking toward her, flanked by two blond male vampires. The blonds looked distinctly like medieval Danes, with braided beards. They strode on either side of him, carrying spears.

  “I thought I heard a kerfuffle.” Darren’s voice rang off the stone ceil
ing. “Is it just me, or was this human supposed to remain unharmed, under orders from Ambrose?”

  “Not just you, sir,” one of the Danes said. “She’s one of the mages.”

  Rosalind released her friend’s wrists, and Tammi rose slowly. Rosalind saw only fear on Tammi’s pale features now.

  “It’s okay,” Rosalind said. “Everything is under control.” She stood, smoothing out her gray dress.

  Darren stepped closer. “What’s wrong with your ker friend? And what on earth is she doing here? I thought we killed all the keres.”

  Tammi crossed her arms. “I’m not a real ker. I was human, but some dickhead turned me into a ker. And now I want…” She ran her tongue over her teeth. “I have different cravings.”

  “Of course,” Darren said. “Blood hunger?”

  “Do keres drink blood?” Rosalind asked.

  “Sometimes.” Darren sniffed, wiping the back of his hand under his nose. “They don’t require it. But this one isn’t really a ker, is she? She’s a new creature. A human given a new life as a demon.”

  Tammi’s face fell. “Just like a vampire.”

  Darren looked at her. “If I’m not allowed to hurt the human whore, then you certainly aren’t. What are we going to do with you?”

  Rosalind glared at him. “She’s new to this. She doesn’t know how to handle it, but she’ll get things under control.”

  Darren steepled his fingers, looking to the ceiling while he considered the situation. “Novice demons like Tammi are unpredictable and volatile. They must be trained. There’s a place for them—the Abzu. I’m sending her to speak to Ambrose, but I imagine he’ll send her on to the Abzu.”

  Rosalind frowned. “How long would she have to stay there?”

  “As long as it takes for her to gain control of her impulses. There’s a cleansing ritual, some training. A novice must prove herself before she is released. Hard to know how long that will take.” He sniffed again. The cocaine seemed to have irritated his nose. “Not everyone has the self restraint that I do.”

  Tammi crossed her arms. “Will I get blood there?”

  “Yes.”

  She ran her fingertips down her chest, still eyeing Rosalind hungrily. “When do I go?”