Harlequin Nocturne January 2014 Bundle: The Vampire HunterMoon Rising

by Michele Hauf

  “Oh, that’s right, you always have been a bit of a freak in the dating department.”

  Zoë gaped at Lillian, but the older witch simply shrugged. “What about the ice demon?”

  Zoë wasn’t going to dignify that one with an agreement. So she’d learned that some demons took offense to her idea of a romantic date—snuggling before a cozy fire. The guy hadn’t melted, but he’d had to activate some kind of cold sensors in his body and had really gotten hard. And not in a good way, either.

  “And the familiar, Thomas?” Lillian tossed out.

  Zoë rolled her eyes at memory of that particular alley cat. “Don’t remind me. I’m never keeping a familiar as a pet again.”

  “You’re sure Sid isn’t keeping something from you?”

  “Positive. Sid is pure cat. When he sits on the edge of the bathtub watching me bathe, it’s out of boredom, not lust. Oh, now you made me think of that!”

  “I personally enjoy the idea of having a familiar around the house, always watching, and sometimes catching you in a most compromising position.” Lillian winked.

  The woman was a vixen. On the other hand, Zoë would be thankful merely to be in a compromising position, so she wasn’t going to judge Lillian’s industrious sex life.

  “Fine,” Zoë said, “so I tend to pick the wrong men on occasion.”

  “Always.”

  “Always,” Zoë agreed and followed with a sigh. “But Kaz is different.”

  “He’s human. That’s about as different as it gets. And a hunter? Curious. You don’t think that’ll jeopardize your friendships with vampires?”

  “I hope not.”

  “What’s the name of that cute, dark-haired vamp who is always hanging around you? Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him in a while. You should hit that, Zoë.”

  “Lillian, Luc is a friend. We’d never hit each other.” She shuddered to even think of having sex with her friend. “He’s on a sort of vacation right now. Actually, he’s had a tough time of it since breaking up with his fiancée, and succumbed to a dust addiction.”

  Lillian shook her head sadly.

  “But he’s getting clean. That’s why I haven’t seen him in a few weeks. He wants to surprise me.”

  “Good for him. And sorry to have implied you two should...you know. Vampire sex is always a bit messy. The blood stains! Anyway, tell me more about this sexy hunter with the big muscles. Does he slay on his own? Is he part of an organization?”

  Zoë shrugged. “I didn’t ask. Is that important?”

  “You don’t often find a lone vigilante staking vampires. Not that it doesn’t occur. It’s just not common.”

  “What organizations are there?”

  “There’s a few. He hasn’t mentioned any, shown you any weapons or secret handshakes?”

  “I did snag one of his stakes. It was made of metal and was spring-loaded. And I got this.”

  She tugged the thing she’d nicked from Kaz while they’d kissed in the restaurant, and studied her find. Looked like a hi-tech tape measure, but when she pulled out the tape, she saw it was some kind of twisted cable.

  “A garrote,” Lillian remarked. “Wonder if there’s any blood on it.”

  “Ugh.” Zoë tucked the weapon back in her sweater pocket. “And he’s got this mark on his shoulder. It’s like a burn, but in a circle pattern. And inside are four marks in a radiating style. I’ve seen it before....”

  “Like stakes within a circle?”

  “Could be. Oh, yes, now I remember. The same mark was on the bottom of the stake he carries. Are you familiar with it?”

  Lillian shuddered and pulled the bowl away from the flower head that had given up all its seeds. “Sounds like Order of the Stake. They’re ruthless. Best you stay away from their knights.”

  “Knights?”

  Lillian nodded. “That’s what they call the hunters who are trained to extinguish any vampire who looks at them the wrong way.”

  “How do you know so much about this order?”

  “I dated a knight once. Name was—well, I can’t tell you or he’d have my head, for sure. Misogynist son of a bitch. He had a thing for witches. But he was cold, so cold. Devoted to his work. He’d be making love to me while detailing the things he planned to do to the next vampire who crossed his path. Oh, this isn’t good, little one. Don’t let that knight cross your threshold again.”

  “But I told you he didn’t attempt to slay the vampires last night. I have to believe Kaz would not kill just because his opponent was vampire. He only goes after those who kill humans.”

  “How can you know a man you’ve only met? A few knee-bending kisses have blinded you. Be wary. And whatever you do, do not introduce him to any of your vampire friends.”

  “I hadn’t intended to. But I’m also not going to kick him out of my bed just because he’s got some special title from a boy’s club. I’ve never heard of the Order of the Stake. Sounds like something you do in a restaurant. I’ve work to do inside. I’ll talk to you later, Lillian.”

  “If you need backup,” Lillian called as Zoë strode up to her back door, “you know where to find me.”

  Thinking the old witch had finally slipped a cog, Zoë marched inside, collected Sid in her arms and turned into the kitchen to start a pot of apple cider.

  “He’s not a bad man,” she said to the purring black cat. At least, she hoped he wasn’t.

  And a knight? Her fantasies were gliding along quite nicely, if she did say so herself.

  * * *

  Kaz had spent the afternoon and early evening reviewing the Order’s files on faeries. There wasn’t much, not even names of particular faeries known to the Order. Names were a powerful thing to the sidhe, and they never revealed their true name to anyone.

  Within Faery, there was a hierarchy and various courts such as Seelie, Unseelie, Bright and Dark, Summer, Winter, etc., but they existed in Faery, not the mortal realm.

  He learned an interesting method to prevent faeries from seeing him. Turning his coat inside out. It was rumored to work, but no reports from Order knights confirmed it. Iron was another excellent faery repellent, though it had to contain pure, cold iron to cause death. Forged iron merely slowed them down a bit.

  Following his computer research, Kaz checked the Order’s arsenal and found an old iron blade, something from medieval times, and checked it out. The blade was heavy and short, but better safe than not. It was easy to conceal down the side of his boot, too.

  Back at home, he showered and changed, then reviewed yesterday’s events as he stood before the map in the living room. Talking with Switch had proven disastrous. He still couldn’t believe he’d let the vampires get the upper hand, but suspected that Switch had immediately started in with the persuasion, luring him into a subtle thrall that had weakened his defenses.

  He’d been trained to defeat the thrall. Where had his focus been?

  He wasn’t even going to answer that question.

  On the map he tapped the location of the restaurant where he and Zoë had eaten, and muttered, “In FaeryTown.”

  Order records had confirmed FaeryTown was rammed up against the Bois de Boulogne, a city park that stretched along the western edge of the sixteenth arrondissement. That would make the FaeryTown area vast if it crossed from the eighteenth, through the seventeenth, and hugged the sixteenth.

  He connected a few strings on pins and drew a line with them from the restaurant to the park. He’d adjust the borders as he learned more and familiarized himself with the area. To do that he needed to see the inhabitants of FaeryTown.

  Dressing quickly in casual black jeans, boots and a warm gray sweater, he left the Order gear in the closet. He didn’t want to appear threatening when walking the streets of FaeryTown, yet he stowed the iron blade in his boot. I
n his pants pockets he’d secured a stake, holy water and a small silver cross. He couldn’t find the garrote he always carried. He patted the Order coat hanging in the closet, but didn’t feel it. It couldn’t have come unhooked from his belt—

  “Really?” He recalled kissing Zoë in the restaurant and her sliding her hand along his waist. “What is it with that chick and her sticky fingers?”

  But he could survive without the garrote. It was the weapon he used least often.

  Kaz headed out to catch the Metro back to the eighteenth. Tonight he did not intend to allow his actions, successful or otherwise, to be witnessed by a curious witch. But first, he had to obtain a necessary ingredient if he was going to see the faeries with whom he wanted to chat.

  * * *

  The cerulean door made him smile. Behind that door lived someone equally as bright and intriguing. Kaz knocked and waited. From the noise inside, it sounded as if she descended the spiral stairs twisting skyward inside the foyer.

  He wondered what was up in the tower room that she was keen to keep from his curious gaze. Was it a place where she conjured potions with jars of bat wings and mouse tails?

  Did he really want to know?

  Kaz shuddered. Probably not. This particular witch may not physically creep him out, but he had no idea what she did with her spells and cauldron. Just wondering about it put a little creep up the back of his neck.

  Zoë opened the door and greeted him with an enthusiastic kiss. She wrapped her legs about his hips and clung. No sense in fighting the effusive show of affection. Their mouths crushed together, Kaz walked inside, carrying the lightweight witch along with him.

  “You’re certainly happy to see me.” He closed the door, one sweetly smiling witch still wrapped about his torso. She smelled like apples and cinnamon. “Must be my winning personality, eh?”

  “Could be, or it could be the weather.”

  “The weather?”

  “Autumn makes me, um...well, lusty. Kiss me again, hunter.”

  He pressed her back against the wall and glided his hands down her arms while she maintained a leglock about his hips. The chick got turned on by the cooling season? He could work with that.

  A kiss to her jaw and she tilted her head to the side. Her silky hair spilled over his fingers and he drew out the strands, marveling at the blend of dark and white. He liked it for its oddness. Add that to the scar cutting her cheek and she was unique and fascinating.

  And horny. Go figure.

  But really? When had he ever resisted a wanting female?

  A kiss to her collarbone made her squirm. He wanted to pull down her shirt to reveal her breasts but he’d just come in from outside and even if the weather did turn her on, he felt sure cold hands would not.

  She pushed her hands up under his sweater and Kaz sucked in a breath at the heat that seared his skin. Damn, she was hotter than summer.

  “Your touch is more than healing,” he said with a kiss to her shoulder, where the neckline began on her black shirt. “It makes me...” He ground his hips against her, wishing she sat a little lower on him so she could feel his erection.

  “It makes you what?” she asked. “Lusty, as well?”

  “You think that’s the only reason I returned to see you?”

  “I know what you came for. But you’re not going to get it until I’ve had my way with you.”

  “Is that a fact? Sounds like a worthy trade.”

  “Oh, the faery ointment is going to cost you real, hard cash, buddy.”

  “I brought my wallet. Unless you’ve stolen it already.”

  “Come on. I take one little thing from you and you think I’m a kleptomaniac?”

  “One thing? I, uh, seem to be missing something else from my arsenal. Would you have any idea where it might have gone?”

  She had the innocent-shift-of-eyes-toward-the-heavens look down pat.

  “Zoë...”

  “Oh, bugger. I’m sorry. I can’t help myself. It’s just—”

  “That thing you do?”

  She nodded. “Some things I just do without thought. Gives me a thrill. You know?”

  “Maybe you should seek your thrills in another way?”

  Her cheeks flushed and her raspberry lips curled seductively. Kaz was glad she’d made the connection to what he was suggesting.

  “I can retrieve it right now, or...” She nibbled her bottom lip and met his gaze close up with a flutter of lush lashes. “We could fool around a bit longer. Touch me, Kaz.”

  Kaz dragged his hand down her shirt, and it came off her shoulder, exposing pale skin that smelled like herbs and spices. The house smelled like stewed apples. It was appealing in ways that teased at memory and hunger and desire all wrapped together. He bent to kiss and lick her shoulder.

  “You’re dressed down tonight,” she said. “No blades at your collar. No slaying in mind?”

  “Nope. And we’re not going to discuss my work anymore.”

  “Fair enough. What do you want to discuss?”

  “This.” He licked a trail down from her shoulder to the rise of her breast. She wore no bra, and he dared to caress her breast and cup it in his hand. Her nipple hardened against his palm, and that sensation caused things on him to grow hard. “You make me feel like a teenager who is excited to touch a girl, Zoë. It’s funny.”

  “Because you’re touching my boob?”

  “A little. I feel as if this is new, and I’ve never done it before and I don’t want to do anything wrong or I’ll lose you.”

  “Wow.” She traced his hair with both hands, along his ears and down to caress the back of his neck. “I bet you’ve had tons of girlfriends. Why do I make you feel like this?”

  “Not sure. You’re different.”

  “Because I’m a creepy witch?”

  “I think it’s because you’re so much more than another pretty girl.”

  “I’m not pretty. This scar—”

  He kissed her right on the scar, tendering a soft touch to the raised skin that made him wince to think of the horrors she must have endured. “It is uniquely you, and you are pretty, Zoë. But can I ask, if you were able to heal me, then how come you couldn’t...?”

  “Heal myself? That requires much study with molecu—er, healing magic. I can heal others but not my own flesh. All magic has a price.”

  “That sounds so wrong, but I guess it makes sense.”

  “There is a price to be paid for all magics.” She nudged her forehead against his and closed her eyes, her lashes dusting his. “You really don’t want to lose me?”

  “Zoë, I don’t know how to explain the way I feel, but losing you feels wrong. I just found you.”

  “Then kiss me again, and touch me all you like. I want your big hands roaming over me.”

  He bent and kissed her breast through the thin fabric, and gently tweaked her nipple, which stirred up her moan that resonated like a song in Kaz’s soul.

  For some reason, Zoë seemed to touch his softer side, the side of him that pined for a connection. A side that he, as a hunter, had deftly hidden away from all who might attempt to permeate that carefully protected part of him. It felt too good to push her away right now.

  The witch shoved up his sweater and pulled him in closer so he could feel her hard nipples against his bare chest. There was some kind of rightness, he thought, in standing here making out like teenagers. He crushed up against her, moaning his own soulful song of desire, and found her mouth again for another long, lingering kiss.

  Cupping her breasts, he squeezed the nipples, which drew a moan from her that echoed into his kiss. The sounds of her pleasure made him eager to harmonize with those whimpers and moans all night long. But he had work to do.

  Just a few minutes longer...

  �
��So, I know what you are,” she said as he let down her legs so she could stand.

  “What do you mean? About me being a hunter? Big surprise.”

  “You’re a knight with the Order of the Stake.”

  “Ah.” Kaz exhaled. Desire fell down the scale and landed with a splat.

  How’d she figure that one? He hadn’t worn the telltale coat with the bladed collar tonight, but she had probably closely examined it the night she’d helped him home to her couch. Some in the know would recognize the style, but she hadn’t initially given any indication that she had.

  She could have researched him on the internet, but—no, the Order took particular measures to ensure nothing about them was recorded online. Not on the mortal’s version of the internet, anyway.

  “My neighbor told me,” she offered. “She’s a centuries-old witch who knows everything and then some. That mark on your shoulder was the giveaway. A teenaged dare?”

  Okay, he’d give her that one. He often forgot about that telling symbol.

  “It’s a brand I took when I said vows and was knighted into the Order. I was seventeen. My identity is not common knowledge, Zoë. I need to maintain secrecy or every Tom, Dick and Lestat will come after me.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I just wanted you to know I’m in on it now so you don’t have to lie.”

  “I’ve never lied to you,” he protested fiercely. Realizing that had been a bit harsh, Kaz dropped the defiance a notch. “I keep some things close to my vest, is all. I can’t reveal details about investigations. It would compromise both of us.”

  “Fair enough. But can I ask about this organized order of humans who hunt vampires for a living?”

  “No.”

  She nodded. “Right. No questions. No lies.”

  “It’s easier that way. Can you deal?”

  She nodded. “I can, and I will. I suppose you need to get to work, then? I should run up and get the ointment.”

  As Zoë dashed up the stairs, Kaz exhaled and leaned against the wall. That hadn’t gone over as well as it should have. But at least he was out, so to speak. A knight’s best defense was his secrecy, yet he suspected Zoë would remain an ally in his silence. Until she had reason to use it against him.