by Susan Hayes
She was magnificent, her diminutive frame housing so much dark anger. His hunger blazed, and other, more carnal appetites began to waken. Here was a woman worth hunting in the old ways, one that moved him the way none had in over a century. Here was one he could claim and take with him into the darkness that was his world.
He summoned the magic and shuddered as the transformation washed over him, the exquisite pain whetting his appetites further. From man to bat, the change was done in a matter of heartbeats, his mind unaltered beneath the fur and fangs. He needed to feed, but whatever paltry mortal appeased his needs tonight, he knew his thoughts would be on the sweet, succulent creature he’d left behind. He spread his wings and took to the air, already looking forward to the hunt.
The feeding was done quickly, leaving the girl broken and torn, perhaps too broken to survive. He’d been impatient in his hunger, taking more than he should have and using her roughly. In the back of his mind, a voice whispered that he had been careless, that leaving his victim’s shattered body behind the same Dumpster where she had been standing tonight was reckless. Part of him wanted him to remove the body, clean up loose ends lest he alert the Brotherhood of Guardians to his presence here. The vampire hunting bastards were a constant annoyance.
The wind carried the tang of his victim’s blood, tingling in his nostrils as he perched high atop a building that overlooked the nightclub. He ignored the whispered doubts and worries. The careful ways were no longer the paths he wished to walk.
Let them come. Part of him sent up the challenge. It had been too long since he’d embraced his power and reminded the humans why they feared the dark. Then he’d seen her leave the club and he’d had to follow her. This was the one he wanted, not the unfortunate soul whose blood warmed his body, the one whose red hair had reminded him of hers and drawn his fatal attentions.
Vlad licked his lips and imagined it was her blood on his tongue, hot and sweet like molten honey. Tonight he would have her name. Tomorrow night he’d start laying claim to the rest of her, mind, body, and soul.
She’d climbed onto a motorcycle and driven off into the night at a speed that made him laugh. Oh yes, she was perfect. Again he let the transformation come, again the pleasure/pain coursed through him, and he followed her on silent wings. Sunrise was coming, but he had time enough before the sun rose to accomplish one last task.
He circled the building several times until he was certain he had found her again, the one window among hundreds that led to her bedroom. With a sweep of leathery wings, he settled on the narrow window ledge and cursed inwardly as he realized her curtains were of the same sort he used, designed to completely black out all incoming light. He would be denied the sight of her, at least for now. Still, there were other ways to deepen their connection.
Vlad reached out with his thoughts and sought her mind, her mental barriers all dropped now that she slept. He slid into her dreaming mind with a shiver of pleasure, listening to her most secret thoughts and intimate whispers. Quickly he lifted her name, Kyra Robinson, and filed it away for further study. He wanted to know all about this woman, every facet and fact.
Link by link he envisioned the chains that would bind them, mind to mind. Soon he would know her thoughts, waking and dreaming. Soon she would know him so intimately that when at last she came to him it would be as lovers, long parted. He caressed her in his thoughts and felt her mind stir in protest. Soon she would welcome him, but not yet. She was going to be his, but a bond like this was worth waiting for. He intended to savor every moment.
Her mind stirred again, and from outside her window he heard her moan, a sensual sound that made his blood heat. Within her mind she began to dream, images of blood and danger, cruel eyes, and fangs tearing flesh. He reveled in her reactions, pleased to know that here, at last, was one that recognized what he truly was. It would make the hunt more challenging, and her inevitable fall infinitely more pleasurable. He withdrew from her mind and glanced toward the east, seeing the changes that heralded the coming dawn. It was time for him to sleep. When night came again, the hunt would begin in earnest.
2
GARETH DRANK his espresso and watched the sun set over the city of Venice, painting the sky in colours so vibrant they defied description. On the table in front of him his laptop, the screen covered in overlapping documents and open web browsers. He was looking for signs of his prey, but so far, it looked like he had killed the last of the nest here in Venice. There hadn’t been a new kill in over a week.
He expanded his search, using specialized software to comb through articles, news feeds, police blotters and social media, looking for the telltale details of a feeding gone wrong. Usually, such signs led him to newly made fledglings, arrogant and clueless as to the rules of their new world. These were the ones that died quickly, either at the hands of one of the Brotherhood’s hunters or another vampire, one with no tolerance of their youthful stupidity. Neither hunter nor vampire survived long if they didn’t learn to stay hidden, keeping their secrets and living beyond the knowledge of normal men.
Gareth had been raised to this life, born into a brotherhood of men and women who had hunted vampires for generations. He was an elite soldier in an invisible war that had raged for as long as humans had walked the world. He knew how to live on the fringes of society, unseen and untraceable. The Brotherhood of Guardians had taught him. They were his family, his teachers, his employers, and the only ones who understood the darkness that was his birthright.
An article caught his attention, keywords registering like a subconscious checklist—savage attack, massive blood loss, the victim dead, her wallet and jewelry untouched. He sent a single e-mail that contained his current location and a link to the article he’d just read. Then he closed his laptop, drained the last of espresso, and left the close warmth of the coffee shop behind him. It was time to move on.
He stepped into the night air and vanished within a few strides, blending into the cityscape with preternatural ease. He had a destination now, and he knew by the time he got to the airport there would be a ticket waiting for him. He let his natural pace increase until he was a blur of movement no mortal eye could define, enjoying a brief indulgence of his abilities. He knew better of course, but sometimes the temptation was more than he could resist. After all, he was only human. The thought gave him pause, and he laughed as he ran. Well, mostly human.
It took him a few short minutes to arrive at the nondescript hotel that had served as his home for the past few weeks. Ten minutes more to pack up the few possessions he owned and check out of his room. He was happy to be on the move again. Staying still made his skin itch, and it always brought the dream. He closed his eyes, and for a moment he could almost smell her perfume. Soon, his dream woman had promised. He sure as hell hoped so. He’d dreamed about her long enough. He needed to hold her for real.
VLAD HAD SLEPT through the day, though sleep was too gentle a word for the deathlike stillness that came over him with the rising of the sun. No dream, no thought disturbed his perfect repose as the sun made its slow journey across the sky. Within his sanctuary he rested, the windows carefully sealed and the doors barred against any intrusion. Neither sound nor light nor living thing was welcome this close to him while he was so vulnerable. Beyond the doors, his guards watched, their loyalty bought with blood and gifts no coin could ever buy. Even the greatest of predators had enemies, and the Brotherhood were everywhere.
He awoke with the same shuddering breath with which he greeted each and every nightfall, an agonizing gasp as awareness flooded his mind and returned life to his undead limbs. Not for him the gentle journey from sleeping to wakefulness. No, for vampires the transition was instantaneous and savage, the peaceful darkness torn away and replaced with hunger and memory. It was something none of them talked about, a private pain. The rest was revelry and power, the pleasure and the blood, but the moment of waking was like falling from heaven into hell.
He got up and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing out the b
lack waves that fell nearly to his shoulders. He’d not seen his reflection in so long that he could barely recall his own features, save for what he saw in stolen glimpses from the minds of his victims. He knew his eyes were a brown so deep they seemed black, the lashes dark as his hair. He knew as well that his skin was pale, his features refined. The other details shifted though, blending and rebuilding his image into something that appealed to the individual as they looked at him. It was part of his glamour that no one would describe him in precisely the same way, but each of them would find him alluring. Male, female, it made no difference. The glamour worked on the mind, not the body.
As he stretched, he noticed the erection that held his cock rigid and laughed in surprise. Now that was something he’d not experienced in a while. His hand wrapped around the rock-hard length and he sighed in pleasure at the experience. Kyra had done this to him. He conjured up her image in his mind, his fingers tightening as he began to pump the shaft, imagining it was her hand on his skin, her mouth, her tongue. He knew she’d be perfect, so warm and welcoming. His hips jerked as his fantasy grew more lurid. Kyra laid out for him, bound and blindfolded as she begged for him to touch her.
He reached out over the tenuous link he had established with her, unable to resist a quick taste of her thoughts. She was eating, savoring some decadent meal. He could sense her pleasure and it nearly buckled his knees. He reached out and gripped a bedpost for balance as new images flooded his mind. Her tongue wrapped around his cock, her fingers digging into his hips as she devoured him with the same wicked enjoyment as the food she was eating. The image changed, and now it was red hair and pale shoulders as he took her from behind. Her body hot with blood and life and need.
He came crying out her name, the sharp crack of shattered wood snapping him out of his pleasure trance too soon. Slivers of wood pierced his hand, the bedpost nothing but sawdust and splinters. He plucked the shards from his skin with detachment, the wounds healing quickly. The scent of blood and semen flooded his senses and the bloodlust flared, demanding and hot. He’d forgotten how deeply the two were linked, twin appetites. Sex and blood. He grinned as he stepped into the shower. It was worth the return of the hunger to feel the pleasure of sex again.
BY MIDNIGHT the club was packed with a lineup of hopefuls queued up for half a block, and Kyra decided to walk the floor to wake herself up and touch base with her staff as they worked their asses off to keep up with the flow of money and booze. She spotted Jasmine back at the shooter bar, pleased to see a smile on her face despite the faint bruises that showed under her makeup.
The girl was a trooper, and several of the bouncers had made it known that they’d be making sure Jasmine was getting home safe every night after shift. Her ex would never get close enough to hurt her again. The thought made Kyra smile as she eased her way through the crowd. No one had been there to keep her stepfather away from her, but she was glad that Jasmine had people around her that cared enough to keep her safe.
She was headed back toward the main bar when she felt a hand trail over her hip and pinch her ass. She bit back a curse and held on to her sunny smile by an act of pure will as she reached down and plucked the offending digits off her body. She kept hold of the hand as she let her gaze wander up the errant limb until she met the culprit’s gaze, a college-aged kid whose grin showed no signs of remorse or sobriety. Just what I need, a frisky drunk.
“Hello, baby.” He waggled his brows and grinned wider. “You’re already holding my hand. Wanna hold a whole lot more of me?”
“Sorry, I’m working.” Kyra let go of his hand and gestured around them. “Someone’s got to make sure you and your friends have fun right?”
“Oh yeah, a working girl!” the drunk crowed as his grin turned to a leer. “I think you should stay and have fun with me.”
She barely managed to avoid rolling her eyes as she shook her head in the negative. “Not happening,” she told him loudly enough to be heard over the music and then turned to go, making a mental note to get Travis to keep an eye on the whole table. She got two steps before she felt her arm jerked back, nearly hauling her off balance. She spun around and found herself staring up at the same drunk kid, only he wasn’t smiling anymore.
“You think you’re too good for me?” Bloodshot eyes glowered at her, and he wove slightly from side to side.
Before Kyra could answer, she saw Travis appear, and she flashed him a grateful smile as she yanked her arm out of the drunk’s hold.
“Problem, boss?” Travis’s voice cut through the music and laughter as he stepped between her and her latest problem.
“I think this gentleman has had enough,” she replied, backing up slightly to give Travis room.
“You heard the lady, the bar’s closed.”
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! You take your orders from her? Does she keep your balls in her purse, too?” the drunk argued, too far gone to keep his opinions to himself. Around him, his friends started making their choices, either moving away or stepping up to defend their compatriot. Other members of the security team appeared, and Kyra broke free of the gathering crowd. She turned to watch from a safe distance, confident Travis would have things well in hand. She nearly jumped out of her skin when another hand touched her shoulder.
“Today’s youth have no manners.” A male voice caressed her ear, its faint accent oddly familiar. “He didn’t harm you, did he?”
“What? No, he didn’t.” Kyra turned to face the speaker and her heart stuttered. Holy hell, he is beautiful.
“I’m pleased to know he didn’t harm you. Though I imagine a woman in your line of work can take care of herself.” He offered her a manicured hand. “My name is Vladimir, by the way. I’ve become quite enamored of your club.”
Kyra blinked. “Uh, thank you. I’m glad you like it here.” She took his hand briefly, an odd shiver passing through her as his fingers caressed her palm. “I’m Kyra.”
“I know.” His voice was a sultry murmur that somehow managed to carry over the din of the dance floor.
Heat bloomed deep inside her even as goose bumps chased down her spine and the conflicting signals made her teeth stand on edge. “Not many people bother to know the name of the club’s manager,” she replied, unsure what to make of their conversation or the man whose mere presence seemed to tie her in knots.
His smile was charming, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I am not most people. You’ll come to know that, in time.”
Kyra caught herself leaning toward him and righted herself quickly, her hand coming down on the table between them for balance.
He covered her fingers with his own for a moment, and she found herself staring at his hand, entranced. It was only when he stopped touching her that she found her voice again.
“I’m afraid that I have a rule about mixing business and pleasure. It’s against staff policy for any employee of this club to fraternize with the clientele. That rule applies to everyone, myself included.” She withdrew her hand from the table and gave him her most professional smile. “Please enjoy yourself tonight, Vladimir.”
Vlad flashed another smile, clearly amused by something. “I see. I have taken up enough of your time tonight Kyra, I know you are busy. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
She left his table with a vague nod and glanced over to see how Travis was handling the drunk and his friends. They were gone. She frowned. What the hell? She scanned the club floor and blinked as she realized Travis was back at his post, as were the other bouncers. The drunk and his friends were nowhere in sight. Confused, she looked back to Vlad’s table and groaned. He was gone, too, though his drink still sat there, the untouched Bloody Mary her only proof she wasn’t losing her ever-loving mind.
She’d only spoken to Vladimir for a few minutes at most, so how had Travis gotten back to his station? And how had Vladimir managed to vanish so fast? Kyra sighed and rubbed her fingers where he’d touched her, feeling as though she was missing something important. He’d been
gorgeous, but she’d met gorgeous men before and they’d never made her lose all track of time. And none of them had ever made her feel simultaneously hot, bothered, and uneasy.
Kyra headed back to her office, suddenly longing for a fresh shot of espresso. She was tired, that was all. Tomorrow she was going to try and sleep in for a change. She just needed a few extra hours of sleep and everything would be fine.
VLAD WATCHED her from the shadows, his fingers brushing over his lips as he savored the lingering scent and taste of her. Her essence was cinnamon and spice, just as he remembered it. He’d come back to watch her, but when she had come so close he hadn’t been able to resist speaking to her, touching her. He’d used his glamour to befuddle her senses, prolonging their intimate moment. What had seemed mere moments to her had allowed him a long, lingering exploration of her thoughts as his eyes had enjoyed her physical charms.
She left through one of the doors behind the bar, no doubt to return to her office, perhaps even to look over the monitors to try and find him again in the crowd. She would have no luck if she tried. The same strange magic that denied him a reflection also ensured his face would not appear in any video footage or photo. The most Kyra would find would be a waitress bringing a drink to an empty table, or perhaps her own image standing beside an unoccupied chair, having a conversation with nothing and no one. It amused him to consider it.
He left the club and stepped into the first shadowed corner he could find, making the transformation quickly, for once not enjoying the sensations that swept over him during the impossible alterations to his body. Vlad’s mind was already focused on the fact that somewhere nearby was a young man who had laid his hands on Kyra. There was a price to be paid for that act.
Later, he touched Kyra’s dreams, filling them with dark images and nightmare flashes that he knew would not be easily forgotten when she woke. He lingered in the back of her mind, savoring the fear and restless terror his presence brought, her darkest secrets unfolding in a tantalizing peep show as he slowly shared with her the fruits of his night’s labors.
