by Terry Spear
Basil didn’t look like he believed it any more than Atreides did. “And why would she go to a human club? Hunters notoriously stick with their own kind.”
Atreides rubbed his chin and considered the notion further. Basil was right. If she was in the mood for dancing, she would have found a hunter club to go to. And she would more than likely know where they were and not have mistaken this one for one of her own. Unless she was new to the area.
His brows pinched in a frown, Basil looked more than a bit perturbed. “Why the hell did she dance with you?”
“He saved her,” Renault shared with a smirk, “from the drugs you laced her drink with.”
Basil shook his head and glanced at the club. “I don’t have to drug my women.”
“You think this one could be your woman? Atreides has already claimed her for his own.” Renault brushed at his skinned-up satin shirt sleeve, looking somewhat miffed.
“Hell, looked to me like the huntress claimed Atreides. You sure you’re not on her terminal list?” Colt smugly asked.
Everyone judged Atreides’s reaction.
No, Atreides didn’t believe so. “She danced with me, even offered to do so again. Hunters don’t dance with their intended victims, as far as I know.”
“She wanted another dance with you?” Renault whistled. “What in the world did you do to attract such a hot-blooded huntress?”
“He saved her,” Colt reminded him. “Women like that sort of thing. A knight rescuing a fair damsel in distress, though I wasn’t around quite that early. My greatest adventure was saving a young girl from rustlers in the Texas Panhandle.”
“Yeah, yeah, she was five years old and too young to keep for your own.” Renault gave him a wink. “But this one, she’s definitely the right age.”
“Huntresses are better left alone,” Atreides warned.
“Especially this one, eh, Atreides?” Renault’s mouth rose in a grin.
“I guess Iconia put a bit of a damper on your blossoming relationship with your new girlfriend,” Basil said.
“Good thing, too. I don’t think any of us could have lasted if we’d seen the two of them dance again.” Renault fanned himself.
“It wasn’t any more risqué than what anyone else was dancing,” Atreides countered, though he’d meant to keep his temper corralled and his mouth shut, not flame his friends’ speculation further.
Colt slapped him on the back. “Right, old man. Like every afternoon we have a chance at a huntress like her. Hell, as long as most of us have lived, finding something unique to do is the name of the game. And watching a huntress dancing with one of our own kind is definitely damned different.”
Something moved near the edge of the woods and all four men turned to look. Atreides made out the human host half hiding behind an oak. The impish woman was a dance club addict, and if she wasn’t here, she could be found at any other dance club in the city any time of the day or night. He suspected a vampire was keeping her, or she would have to have a job to earn her way.
“Twilight?” Atreides called out. “What the hell are you doing skulking around in the dark?”
Selena had never been in this area before and in her haste to leave the vampire fight behind, she’d taken the wrong road, she thought. Her cell phone wasn’t working. Sometimes nearby vampire telepathic communications, if there were a lot of them going on at once, could mess with cell phone reception.
With her overhead light on as she drove down the dark road, she tried to read her scrawled script map and watch the road when her car hit something with a thump. Her heart nearly stopped, and she slammed on the brakes. She yanked the car onto the narrow shoulder of the deserted road.
Peering through the rearview mirror, she couldn’t see anything in the dark. What if it was a person? A dog? Maybe just a bit of rough road. But from the way the car had thudded against something, she was certain it was more than just a bump in the road.
If it was a wounded animal, it could be dangerous. But she couldn’t leave someone’s beloved pet injured on the road. Or an injured person behind.
With resolve, she opened the car door. The security warning dinged, reminding her she’d left the keys in the ignition. Grabbing her sword, she left the door open to afford her a little more light, then walked along the road in the dark, searching for whatever she’d hit. She saw nothing. She peered into the tall grass bending in the breeze on the shoulder on the right side of the road, looking to see if the body had been thrown off the pavement. But she didn’t see anything.
“Hello?” she said, feeling rather foolish. But if someone was hurt and could respond to her voice…
Her heels clicked on the asphalt while the warm, misty Oregon breeze plastered her dress against her body, even at this late hour. The wind whipped through the pine trees a few yards back from the road. A pale half-moon hung against the black velvet night and cicadas sung their noisy music all around her. Otherwise, she heard nothing—no sound like a wounded animal or person. Nothing at all.
Her skin prickled with apprehension. This had been a night of mistakes. But she saw nothing amiss, dismissing what she’d thought she’d hit as just a bad bump in the road that wasn’t visible to her in the dark. She turned to head back to her car.
And gasped. In the glaring red taillights of the car stood a large gray dog. No, not a dog, a wolf. Or a wolfdog that was mostly wolf.
Its amber eyes watched her with a cold, calculating, predatory stare. The fur on its back rose. His mouth hung agape as he panted, his teeth exposed, but he didn’t move away from the car. Had she hit him? Stunned him for a moment?
She stood very still and tried to calm her racing heart. Unless someone owned a wolf or wolfdog in these parts, which might be true, and the beast had gotten loose, there was yet another explanation that could be just as viable. And lots more dangerous—for her.
It wasn’t a wolf at all, but a shape-shifting vampire. Or maybe a wild wolf. Some had been spotted in various locations in Oregon.
If it was a vampire, had he—or she—come from the club? Although as big as the wolf was, she assumed it was a male.
One of the two men outside of the club who had tried to talk her into going with them maybe? Or someone else who had been intrigued with her dance? Even Atreides, who had warned her to stay away?
If it was a real wolf and she ran, it could pounce on her and kill her quickly if it was starving. Then again, wolves didn’t normally attack people. If it was a rogue vampire, and he meant to eliminate her, she would have a real fight on her hands. Particularly, if he was an ancient. They had lived so many years, often two hunters would team up to take one down.
“Hello,” she said.
The wolf tilted its head to the side a little.
Maybe it was someone’s pet after all. She’d always been able to befriend animals.
She took a step toward it. His fur stood on end, making him appear even bigger. His eyes kept contact with hers, an alpha male, challenging her, but he didn’t move one way or another. By keeping her eyes on his, she was challenging him right back, when she knew to look away or chance incurring a fight. He clamped his mouth shut as if she’d surprised him, but she noticed now his tail stood like a pike straight out from its body. Stiff and on edge, he was ready to react quickly.
Yet, she had no other choice. She couldn’t abandon her car and try to walk home. Hell, on top of everything else, she was sure she was lost. What a disaster this night had been.
She took another step toward the car, swinging her sword at it, trying to make the wolf run away. The wolf’s jaw dropped open, and he gave a low throaty growl, his wicked canines bared. The growl was a warning, and heeding it, she stopped. She really, really didn’t want to kill a wolf, if she could even manage.
Okay, damn it, she was probably only three or four miles from the dance club. Or five or six. She wasn’t certain how far she’d gone in her haste. Maybe Atreides, since he had wanted her to stay away from the club and since he had not propo
sitioned her outside but had instead rescued her, maybe he could help get rid of the beast guarding her car.
Unless Atreides was already gone. Which meant she might have to fight off the other vampires’ attentions again. Only this time she wouldn’t have a car to flee in—if anyone would even entertain the notion of helping her.
In a last-ditch effort to take matters in her own hands, she tucked her sword under her arm, clapped her hands together, and yelled, “Hah! Get out of here! Bad dog! Well, bad wolf! Hah! Go home!”
The great gray beast merely stood its ground.
Great, just great! Grabbing her sword, she swung around and headed down the dark road, hoping that no one would find her car sitting idly, the keys in the ignition, the engine turned off, but the door wide open, beckoning, “Take me, please!” She could just envision explaining to her insurance agent what had happened.
Hopefully, no one would miss seeing her on the dark road—should someone happen to drive by—and run her over because she wasn’t visible enough.
She glanced over her shoulder and glowered at the beast. He hadn’t moved an inch. “Bad wolf!” she tossed back and stomped in her wobbly heels along the dark road that grew darker as the car grew smaller in the distance.
Before it was out of sight, she looked back one more time. The wolf still stood guarding her car. The headlights reflected off the mist, making him appear eerily ghostly from this distance. Letting her breath out in a huff, she stormed in the direction she thought she’d left the club behind.
With the way her luck was going, the club wouldn’t be there when she got back.
Chapter 4
In the parking lot of the popular century-old vampire club, Atreides asked again, “Twilight, what are you doing out here?” Though he suspected she was meeting with a vampire, who didn’t wish his mate to know he was having a fling with the human host.
She shrugged. “I was about to enter the club when I saw the huntress heading for her car and Renault and Colt hassling her. I just wondered if they…” She smiled. “She needed my help.”
Atreides knew the woman would have aided the vampires and not the huntress, as much as she wanted to be accepted by them. She looked like a Goth from the black clothes she wore, to the body piercings and the ebony eye and lip makeup. But as much as she wanted to be like the vampires—even having dental work to add vampire-sized fangs—she was afraid to become one of them. She loved having them feed off her, but she didn’t have the stomach to do the feeding.
Though Atreides knew that would change once she was turned, but Twilight had never wanted to go that far.
“So, who is she and what did she want?” Twilight looped her arm through Atreides’s while he and the other men returned to the club.
“Do you have another question? She’s a huntress. That’s all I know.”
“I’m surprised Basil didn’t throw her out of the club.”
Basil turned and lifted a brow. “The most intriguing creature we’ve had here in ages and definitely the most entertaining? Not on your life.”
When they entered the club, Twilight giggled. “Looks like Iconia’s mad at you, Atreides. She’s dancing with—”
“I see.” Atreides bit back a swear word. Of all the vampires she had to hook up with tonight, did it have to be Ragnar? Dating back to the Viking raiders, the man was still little more than a beast. The blue-eyed, blond Norwegian caught Atreides’s eye and smirked.
Atreides bowed his head and noticed several watched to see his reaction. The Norseman would not provoke him this evening. Atreides motioned to Colt, Renault, and Basil. “A word.”
The four men entered a private lounge area furnished in black leather couches. Basil locked the door, then proceeded to serve the men wine. “What have you learned about this group of rogue hunters, Atreides?”
“That the League of Hunters denies such a group exists. The League insists that the vampire killings were warranted.”
Colt cursed. “They killed four of our women who were no more rogue than any of us are.”
Atreides curled his hands into fists. “I couldn’t agree more. That’s why we’re taking it into our own hands this time. The League be damned.”
“And your brother?” Renault asked. “Surely, Daemon won’t permit us to do anything about this outrage until he returns. He doesn’t want to cause a riff between us and the hunters.”
Atreides scoffed. “He is busy with his huntress.” He shrugged. “While they are away, I’m in charge. By the time he returns, all will be resolved.”
Renault’s lips turned up slightly. “Many years have passed since you were in command of our battle strategies, Atreides. What’s the plan?”
“Five hunters are involved. But we need a lure.”
Colt leaned his bulky figure forward. “I’ll be it.”
Atreides shook his head. “Something sweeter.”
Colt looked at Renault and smiled while Renault scowled back at him.
“You mentioned a huntress before,” Basil offered.
“Yes, a huntress. She’ll be working with our vampiresses, ready to defend them. Of course the vampiresses will warn us. When the men come, they will have us to face, not our vampiresses, who are too weak to fight the hunters’ combined strength. Let them take someone on who is matched in strength and see how superior they are then.”
“And the huntress?” Basil asked.
“She will fight alongside us, to corroborate that we had just cause. I’ve already located the right one.” At least Atreides hoped. If so, he and his brethren could stop the rogue hunters before any more of his kind’s blood could be shed.
For another hour, they discussed plans, but when Atreides heard Iconia screech in the area of the dance floor, he threw open the door to the lounge and hurried to protect her from the Viking brute, Ragnar.
The music had stopped, and everyone was gathered around Iconia so that he couldn’t even see her or what was happening.
“She has returned,” one of the vampires telepathically said.
As soon as Atreides and the others entered the dance floor and he could see what the matter was, his jaw dropped. Iconia was dressing down the huntress, Selena, who glared back at her with contempt, a sword clutched in her fist, the tip resting on the floor.
The huntress said in a high tone of voice—though she needn’t have as the place was deadly quiet and their hearing enhanced, “I have to see Atreides.”
Iconia hissed and grabbed for the huntress’s throat.
The huntress’s eyes flashed hot, but she didn’t raise her sword, and in fact, she looked as though she could barely hold onto it.
“Hold!” Atreides shouted and jerked Iconia’s hand from the huntress’s neck. Grabbing Selena’s wrist, he stalked back to the lounge, though she stumbled after him in her high heels, and he thought he was going to have to carry her. Hell, did the huntress have even more of a death wish than he had first suspected?
Renault winked at him. Colt grinned. Basil swore under his breath and shook his head. Telepathic communication buzzed so thickly, Atreides could only imagine what the frenzy of vampire voices were saying.
He shut the lounge door and then released her. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from here? What the hell are you doing bringing a hunter’s sword in here? Are you suicidal?”
He noticed then that she looked like she’d had a good tumble the way her cheeks were flushed, and her hair tangled, hanging loosely around her face. The color in her cheeks quickly receded, and she looked hauntingly pale.
“Why are you here?” he amended, trying to calm his rage. How would it appear if he had the hots for one of the hunter kind? How could he lead his people if they couldn’t trust him?
“Are you through being pissed off?” she asked, her brows pinched in a tight frown as she pressed her sword into the floor, using it like a cane. No one abused a well-crafted weapon in such a manner. A hunter’s sword was often passed down through the generations, a special weapon that could
dispatch a vampire in a permanent way.
She swayed a little and he looked down at her strappy sandals.
His gaze met hers again. “No.”
“Fine. Whatever. I need your help.” Her words were breathy now.
He wanted to tell her to find some hunter to help her, but he kept his comments to himself, studying her, trying to determine what was going on with her.
Her eyes gazed into his and though he saw anger, he also saw the same kind of vulnerability as before and a tiredness he hadn’t noticed during their first encounter. She didn’t look well.
“What’s the problem?” He poured her a drink, then offered it to her.
She leaned against the arm of one of the sofas. “My car…I—I thought I hit something on the road.”
His brows lifted and his gaze raked over her appearance again. She didn’t seem to have suffered any injuries in a car wreck, but her dress looked a little dusty.
“Where’s your car?”
She took a weary breath, then drank a goodly sum of the wine. “A couple of miles back that way.” She motioned with her free hand, which seemed to throw her off balance, and she wobbled backward a little.
He frowned at her unsteadiness. Was she not used to drinking? She hadn’t been able to drink the one Basil had tried to serve her.
“You walked.” He glanced down at her sandals again and couldn’t imagine limping for miles in those things.
In an unlady-like manner, she collapsed on the nearest sofa as if finally realizing how much her feet hurt, spilled some of the remaining wine on her dress, and he swore under his breath.
He went to the bar and jerked off a handful of paper towels. Returning to her, he handed her the towels. She held them limply at her dress, not blotting where the wine had spilled, just sitting there, staring at his waist as if she couldn’t lift her head to even look up at him any longer.
“So, you said you thought you hit something. But you didn’t? Why did you abandon your car?” The woman wasn’t making any sense, and he needed to get her out of here pronto.
