Burn: A shifter and vampire rock star romance (Underground Encounters Book 4)

by Lisa Carlisle

  She stared at me and blinked a couple of times before answering. “I thought you’d left.”

  She was thinking about me. “No, I’ve been around.”

  “Of course, I’ll sign it.” She took the CD from me. “Hey Joey, you have a marker?”

  One of the guys in the band reached into the pocket of a pair of black jeans so tight I don’t know how he fit anything in there. He pulled out a marker and threw it to her.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute.”

  Joey sized me up before walking away with the other guys. What was his problem? After they disappeared up the alley, I scanned the area to see if there was anyone else nearby. While she signed the CD insert, I scanned our surroundings.

  We were alone in the alley. It was the perfect time to snatch her. My car wasn’t far from here. It would be better if we were closer to it, but it wasn’t easy to lure vampires where you wanted them to go.

  Ah, another problem. She’d scream. Her cry would alert the band members who were still in earshot. Three guys and a vampire would be a challenge due their numbers, not their strength, which wouldn’t compare with mine.

  How could I fasten her wrists while keeping her from screaming? Before I figured out how to capture her without alerting her band members that guy Joey appeared at the end of the alley.

  “You coming or what, Angelica?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

  She handed the CD to me and said, “Enjoy. Nice to meet you, Devon.” Then she surprised me by leaning forward and kissing me on the cheek before scampering up the alley to Joey.

  I watched her slip away and then put my hand on my cheek where she kissed me. Such soft lips. My cheek still tingled there.

  My experiences with vampires led me to believe they were just sacks of cold, dead flesh, but her lips were warm. What would it feel like to kiss those lips? To touch her body?

  A vision of her onstage formed in my mind. She’d teased the audience, seducing them as she ran her hands over her curves. Her voice had oozed with sensuality, adding to the irresistible appeal. I envisioned running my hands over those curves and locking my eyes with her dark ones as I drove into her body.

  Devon, you’re missing the point in this situation.

  You let her get away.

  I strode out of the alley just in time to see the black van pulling away. If I hadn’t stood there like an idiot, I could have dashed to my car and followed them, found out where she lived.

  Like a fool, I’d let her slip away.

  I returned to my car, kicking myself for acting like an amateur. This was supposed to be a straightforward job that I took care of in one night. I should have thought of the screaming issue instead of drooling over her while she sang. By letting her escape, I’d complicated matters and now had to track her down.

  How had she managed to distract me? I was a professional. I’d been doing this for so long that it had become natural. A simple matter of luring her away from people and snatching her. I was so good at it that Stefano heard of my reputation and specifically hired me for the job.

  Was I losing my touch? Or was there something about this woman that was throwing me off my game?

  Not a woman, a vampire.

  Perhaps that was it. Somehow, she put some sort of vampy mind confusion on me.

  Of all the supernatural beings in the world, I hated vampires the most. For a good reason, too, after what they’d taken from me. Those soul-sucking monsters fed on the blood of others to keep their cold, dead bodies animated.

  Revolting.

  Voluntary shapeshifters considered themselves superior to other beings since we had the best of both worlds. We weren’t dead like vampires or forced to change during the full moon like werewolves or other shifters. Those of us able to take the form of any animal we chose considered ourselves the elite in the supernatural world. I favored the magnificence and strength of a lion, but also loved being able to fly so would often transform into a falcon.

  On the other hand, those blood-sucking corpses thought they were superior to shifters. Who knew where they got that preposterous idea. I suppose it was because they were immortal. They could live forever—but, only if they found living beings to suck on like a leech. They looked down upon shapeshifters. They considered us even inferior to humans, they called us animals.

  I failed to see what was wrong with that.

  So why did I agree to take a job from a vampire? Simple—a vamp would be paying me a large sum to do what I wanted done anyway—getting a vampire off the street. If he disposed of her, even better.

  Plus, the challenge of a vamp added to the enticement. Humans were too easy to capture. With a supe, I had to consider their abilities. Vampires were quick and strong and manipulative. But, maybe I was faster and stronger.

  And smarter.

  We’d find out tomorrow.

  Back at my hotel, I nursed a Jack Daniels at the bar while I thought about plan B—how to find and capture Layla Costa tomorrow night. At least I knew she’d be back at the club with the band.

  Tomorrow I’d be prepared for her vampire charms.

  Joey

  I didn’t like that guy talking to Angelica. The way he stared at her was unsettling with an edge of danger in his eyes. The seconds I waited for her to come to the van ticked by, making me feel like an anxious parent—or a jealous boyfriend. I delayed climbing into the van. When she finally appeared, I exhaled, unaware that I’d been holding my breath.

  Trying to keep my tone level, I asked Angelica, “Who was that guy?”

  “Just some fan,” she answered in an off-hand manner.

  “I don’t like him.”

  She looked me straight in the eye, “You don’t know him.”

  “Something about him gave me the creeps.”

  “Oh, come on,” Rocco, our drummer, said. “What is this—your female intuition?”

  “Funny, Rocco,” I said. “I’m a good judge of character. Always have been.”

  “What do you call your tendency to think everyone has something to hide?” Mark chimed in. “Paranoia?”

  “No. Experience.”

  Angelica gazed out of the van window as if trying to stay out of the conversation. Having known her for almost a month now, I knew she was tougher than she looked, but there was still something vulnerable about her. It made me want to look out for her despite her protests that she could take care of herself.

  “If he was just a fan,” I said, raising my voice to regain her attention, “why wouldn’t he ask for our autographs as well?”

  “Duh,” Rocco said. “He’s a guy. And Angelica is sexy as hell. You never have a girl asking for your autograph and not the rest of ours?”

  “Point taken,” I said. “But something about him doesn’t sit right with me.” Unless it was just my jealousy. He probably wanted to fuck her, like most of the guys in the club. I didn’t like it.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Rocco said. “What are the chances we’ll see that guy ever again?”

  “We’re playing here again tomorrow night,” I said. “If he’s here again, then we know he’s a stalker.”

  “Or a fan,” Rocco added. “Double duh.”

  I stared at him for a few seconds before turning back to her. “Angelica, listen to me a minute.”

  She slowly turned away from gazing out the window to face me. God knows what must go on in her head while she was stuck with a bunch of guys in a tour van. Maybe one day I’d have to ask her about that. She was never forthcoming about herself. Most women I knew barely paused to take a breath when they knew they had someone to listen to them chatter on. She often sat so still, like a statue, tuned out of the world.

  Maybe she felt she was still new to the band and not yet comfortable with us. Or, she might have thought she had big shoes to fill replacing Derek, our previous lead singer. Or, I was overthinking this, and that was just her nature. The more she retreated into herself on our drives, the more
compelled I was to draw something out of her. Was I driving her crazy?

  “I know you’re an independent woman,” I began. “But you’re with us now, and we take care of each other. We’re like a family.” I motioned between us to make my point. “Watch out for guys like that. When you catch a bad vibe about someone, stay away from them. It’s not worth it to stick around to see if you’re right or wrong. Just run.”

  “I didn’t get a bad vibe from him,” Angelica said. “In fact, I thought he was kind of hot.”

  Why did it feel like she jabbed me with the mic stand when she said that? I checked out women all night at the club. Naturally, she would check out guys. Nobody in the band was in a relationship so we were free to look. Or touch.

  Then she added, “Don’t worry about me, Joey. I can take care of myself.”

  Layla

  I was lost in my thoughts on the drive away from the club. Rocco turned the conversation away from me to talk about how well the show went. I nodded and agreed at certain points, but was distracted.

  What was with that guy, Devon? Both times I’d spoken to him tonight, he’d left me reeling with contradictory emotions. Not to mention his captivating look. Tall and muscular, with tattoos covering his exposed skin, a shaved head giving him the look of a total badass, and facial scruff I pictured myself stroking. And the eyes. A blue-green hue that stood out against his tan skin. Intense.

  He’d acted like a fan of the band, approaching me to get an autograph, but the excitement in his tone didn’t match the piercing glint in his eyes.

  Something about him had bothered me, and I wasn’t sure why. My senses stood on alert when he spoke to me, and I couldn’t discern whether it was sexual excitement or danger. Or both.

  Although I’d tried to put him out of my mind and focus on the surrounding conversations, several times that night I had caught myself looking around the club for him. When I didn’t see him again, I thought he must have left.

  Parts of me felt relieved, while others were disappointed. The contradiction was unsettling.

  When I found him again later, why did I kiss him on the cheek?

  The way he looked at me each time had totally captivated me. As the singer of a rock band, I was getting used to shy kids who’d stare. But this guy didn’t seem like either. He played the part of a fan trying to get my autograph, but something about him still didn’t sit right.

  Joey had noticed it, too. But Joey looked at it in a paranoid, older brother kind of way.

  Was it his confidence? Not cockiness, but he exuded some sort of self-awareness that didn’t match the approach of an adoring fan. And I couldn’t deny my body’s response to him. His appearance, his voice, and his scent all drew me in. I had tried to catch his scent in the club, but too many distracting odors prevented that. Outside, I’d finally detected it. It was unlike any I had ever smelled before—an intoxicating masculine musk—and something else I couldn’t quite place. It struck me as something wild, primitive, and outdoorsy.

  Not to mention his accent. Nothing like a sexy English one, especially on a guy who looked like such a bad boy. One of the things I missed about England was the accents. The phrase sexy motherfucker popped into my mind and made me smile.

  I closed my eyes and sank lower in my seat. Then I recreated an image of him because I didn’t want to forget what he looked like. Not that I thought I would. His presence was memorable. Although he was British, he had a delicious olive complexion more indicative of Spain or Portugal. Yet, his arms barely showed the color of his natural skin, so covered in tattoos of tribal designs and animals.

  Forget what Joey said about Devon being a stalker. I hoped he did return to the club tomorrow. And not just to see the band.

  Perhaps I’d hook up with him and find out what it was that was so titillating with his bad boy appeal. It wasn’t as if he posed a threat to me, a vampire.

  Hmm, Joey’s wariness might make it more difficult to pull it off.

  Oh well, I’d deal with it tomorrow, if and when it happened. My lips curled with a slight smile as I fantasized how that would play out.

  Devon

  The next night, I was prepared. I would not be disarmed by any of Layla’s charms. I glanced at the gargoyle statues. Yes, there was something there. I’d bet there was life watching from their stony eyes. That was all right; I’d already planned for an outdoor capture.

  While at Vamps, I ordered a drink from the attractive pink-haired bartender and watched Layla play. She wore a tiny, white, lacy babydoll-style dress, retro 90s style, that screamed pretty but punk. I preferred other types of music over the metal stuff Layla and her band played, but alternative grunge was okay. I’d choose Nirvana over Metallica. Layla looked even hotter tonight wearing the tiny, flowing dress rather than the skintight outfit from last night.

  Focus, Devon, focus. What she’s wearing doesn’t matter unless it factors into the equation of how it will affect you capturing her. Keep your mind in the game and not on your cock.

  Going for a more analytic approach, I continued to appraise Layla from a more objective mindset. She sported a pair of black scuffed-up combat boots. That was good to know in case she kicked out. It would hurt. A lot. From a damage perspective, the stilettos would hurt worse, but the combat boots might be able to reach a broader area with the heavy heels. If they had steel toe caps—ouch.

  Layla wore a lot of silver jewelry. It had to be some other metal or even plastic. Silver had an incapacitating effect on vampires. It drained them and sapped their powers. Vampires and silver didn’t mix, which is why I had special ropes in my arsenal. A thin rope with silver chains embroidered throughout it. With it, I could bind my prey, rendering them almost powerless, without burning their flesh.

  A vision of Layla tied up entered my mind. Instead of the satisfaction of having caught her, my response was far more erotic.

  Luckily this wasn’t one of the clubs that had a metal detector at the front door. It was still underground enough and far enough away from the city to have the illusion of safety.

  Or, it had some other form of protection. I glanced at the gargoyle statues once more. That had to be the case.

  I glanced around for the exits, preparing for whatever might ensue.

  Minutes later, she sang About a Girl, one of Nirvana’s earlier songs. Had she read my mind? No, impossible.

  Someone’s eyes burned on me. When I searched for the origin, the guitarist eyed me. I sensed he wasn’t happy about me being here. Why? Did he consider me a threat? If so, for what reason—her safety or her affections? They’d flirted onstage during that Van Halen song. If that was staged, they were both quite convincing.

  He wasn’t a supernatural creature—that much I determined. Nothing but a regular human. His interest in me then sparked other questions about their relationship. Were they sleeping together? The thought made my heart quicken.

  Why? What did I care who a vampire slept with?

  Perhaps he was protective of her since they were in a band together. A woman in a band with a bunch of guys. He had to know she’d be hit on regularly and he’d watch out for her.

  Or he sensed that I was a danger to Layla.

  I doubted an ordinary mortal could have the capacity to understand the motive or nature of a shapeshifter or vampire.

  Humans—they don’t even know we exist although we’ve lived among them for centuries. Still, I had to keep an eye out for the guitarist before I went for Layla. He could be a complication.

  Bloodlust Diamond played more songs—Guns n’ Roses, the Scorpions, Ratt, Bon Jovi. At the end of the set, Layla said good night and thanks for coming. She mentioned upcoming gigs in New York and Philadelphia in the next few weeks.

  Might not want to buy your tickets tonight, people. Especially if there’s no money back guarantee if the band doesn’t play.

  Depending on how Stefano handled Layla’s punishment, Bloodlust Diamond might need a new singer soon.

  After Layla left the stage, the fans
descended on her and the rest of the band. That was okay. Let them have their moment, and then the crowd would thin out. The fewer people around, the better.

  Layla Costa, I’m coming for you.

  After a few more interactions, I walked straight up to her and said, “Hello, Angelica.”

  “Hi, Devon.” She twirled one of her black-and-white strands around her index finger. “You’re back. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  She remembered my name. For some reason, that pleased me. I shook my head. Don’t let her distract you.

  “What can I say? I’m a fan.” I smiled in a way I hoped was more seductive than overzealous.

  Her eyes sparkled. “I guess so.”

  “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked.

  She glanced around. Other people wanted to speak to her, but she said “Sure” in an almost breathless tone.

  I took her hand boldly as I led her to the bar. The warmth of her hand once again surprised me. Not cold, dead flesh—but pleasant.

  Or maybe it was just Layla. Oddly, I didn’t cringe at the thought of touching her, but craved it.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “Oh, how about a Tempting Fate,” she said.

  I smiled. Yes, she certainly was tempting fate tonight. Her fate was inextricably linked with mine from this moment on.

  After I ordered her drink and a beer for me, I sensed the guitarist watching us.

  He walked over to us and said, “Hey, Angelica, everything all right?” He eyeballed me.

  “Yes, Joey.” Her voice took on a hardened edge. “Everything’s fine.”

  He glared at me in warning. I stared right back. As if a human could intimidate me.

  The human male bravado, especially when it was exacerbated by alcohol, was a toxic mix.

  Still, I’d keep a watch out for him. I couldn’t have some stupid human interfering with my plans now that I had her within my reach.

  That bloody fool walked away.

  “How long have you been singing with the band?” I asked.

  She squinted before answering. “I thought you were a big fan. Do you already know the answer and are just making small talk? Or do you really not know?”