by Kat Cotton
Using my shoulder, I got my arm free enough to lower the zipper on my jacket. Low enough to slip my hand inside. The rough wood of the stake grazed my fingertips. A bit more movement and I’d have a firm hold of it.
Only, he adjusted his hold and that stake slipped out of my grasp.
He paused for a moment, then dragged me a little further.
What was he planning, anyway? How far did he intend to drag me like this?
Crash.
He stumbled, taking me with him. Then he smashed into something. One of those broken-down old sofas, by the sound of things.
There was a flurry of motion around my feet. Rats.
My attacker yelped. Then tried to right himself.
With him distracted, I grabbed the stake out of my jacket. I had one shot at this. I’d stab him, then run.
His arm still gripped me, his fingers curled around my left shoulder, but the hold was looser now.
I swung right to get some space to move.
The rats swarmed and his breath became rapid. The rats scared the fuck out of him, even though he was trying to hold that in.
I swung with the stake, burying it into his hand.
He cried out as the wood went into his flesh.
I had no time to waste. I took off down the alleyway. That bastard had come between me and my sleep, and he’d tormented me with his chocolate cake-ness. He deserved everything he got. I ran as fast as my legs would go.
I didn’t even stop to see how the staking affected him. Not even my expert demon-detecting skills had figured him out. Vamp, demon or human? I guess I’d never find out. I sure as hell wasn’t going back to the alley to check.
Chapter 7: Kisho
That freaky vampire had sent me another two messages through the night. He wanted me to go to his “lair” to meet with him. That would not happen. Entering a vampire’s lair unarmed would have to be one of the stupidest things a person could do.
Still, I was intrigued. When I got into the office, I looked up some of his YouTube videos. That whole thing about vampires not appearing on film was bullshit. Maybe years ago, when film was in its early stages, it was true. But nowadays, you could film a vamp. Digital cameras didn’t use silver. It was just that vampires don’t film pretty. Vampires are vain as fuck, so they keep off camera.
This Nic guy, he had a whole series of YouTube videos. I started watching. The whole self-help angle was hokey as hell. It was all “follow your dream, don’t let anything hold you back” and all those kinds of hollow platitudes. The camera loved him, though. No wonder he sold so well. He had a charisma that was almost tangible. His pale skin glowed and his eyes shone. I think he wore colored contacts onstage, because that was one of the issues with filming vampires—their eyes always looked red. The other issue was that you can’t thrall people on film. All that charisma he had, that was real.
This guy was not a person I wanted to meet in person. He was too much. Too pretty, too charming and way too hot. His broad shoulders and muscular arms contrasted with that pretty face.
I closed down the browser. Then I opened it again. I needed another look. There was no way you could take your eyes off him. He so wasn’t even my type. The way he moved, the way he stood, the way he spoke, was so strongly feminine yet masculine at the same time. And it all combined into a piercing sexuality.
I’d ignore his messages. That was the safest way.
The issue with the mayor, though, that was a whole different deal. I needed to work out what that guy was up to. I had a few contacts and I could sound them out. The guy wanted all the paranormal activity in the city exposed? To what end? He’d have to show his hand sooner or later. Was he evil or just wrong?
My phone beeped. That Nic vamp again. I ignored it.
I got out a notebook and opened it to a clean page. On the top, I wrote, “People who might know what the mayor’s plan is.” Then I started listing people.
Before I got more than three people on my list, though, and a nice daisy over the i in “is,” I heard a crash.
A client? Yippee.
No one ever came into the place without tripping over shit. I should clean up the reception area. And maybe put a notice up saying there was no receptionist. Or, even better, a notice saying to contact me first. It bugged me, people just wandering in off the street. Well, unless they had work for me and a nice bundle of cash.
I opened my top drawer to put my notebook away. The drawer stuck and I had to jerk it hard.
Someone still messed around in my reception area. Hadn’t they seen the door to my office?
After a few more minutes, I went out to check.
Shit, someone had burgled the place. All my mess had been stolen. That was my own personal mess. Sure, most of it was trash, but it might come in handy one day.
Then I noticed him, sitting on the couch. There was a sofa under all that mess?
He stood up.
I smoothed my hair and wondered if I’d worn a food-stained t-shirt to work. He was so fucking cool. This dude in the middle of my reception area had this whole James Dean thing going on. White t-shirt, leather jacket and a smolder in his eyes to burn up a girl’s panties. But, despite all that, he had a vulnerability that made you want to put your arms around him.
“All that stuff on the floor was a health and safety risk,” he said. “I’ve packed it all over here.”
He pointed to the corner near the dusty reception desk.
“Okay…”
“I wasn’t sure if it was stuff you wanted to keep or not, so I divided it up how I thought. The trash is on the left, the stuff you might need is on the right.”
I should’ve been annoyed at that, but he smiled at me with such a tentative smile, like he wasn’t sure if I’d smile back or not. The shyness of that smile pretty much forced me to return it.
I couldn’t remember the last time a guy had deferred to me. Most of the guys I met were either demons or guys who wanted to get rid of them. Either way, they reeked of arrogance. Not this guy.
I had no idea what this guy was doing in my office.
“Clem Starr?”
“Yep, that’s me. Come into my office.”
He followed me, towering over me with his height and his broad shoulders. Was he here because a demon had latched on to his wife or girlfriend? I hoped not. I wanted this one single and willing.
No.
No, I didn’t. I’d had enough of men. This guy was a client, and he’d stay that way. I wouldn’t think about how it would feel running my thumb over his pouty bottom lip. I wouldn’t think about laying my head against his shoulder. I wouldn’t even for one single minute imagine curling his hair around my finger. Oh, he had such perfect hair, not quite hitting the collar of his jacket, with a slight curl at the ends. If I tried for hours, I wouldn’t be able to get my hair to have that little end curl like that. Maybe, if he was my boyfriend, he’d be able to do my hair like that.
He would not be my boyfriend. He would sit in my office and tell me why he was here. My ice-cold heart would not melt over him.
I indicated the seat. Shit, my office looked dodgy. The broken blind, the dead plants, the coffee cups piled up on my desk. Things like that I never normally noticed. Also, there was a faint smell of something gone a little rotten. Probably coming from the trash can. Why was I such a slob?
He smiled again, and I smiled back.
He shrugged his jacket off. Just one simple, effortless movement, but it got my heart thumping. What was it about this guy?
“My boss sent me,” he said.
He had a trace of an accent, but I couldn’t quite place it. It gave his voice a comforting lilt. As he put his left hand up to smooth his hair, his forearms became my entire focus. I should listen, I should take notes, but those forearms.
“Okay, demon?”
“No, vampire.”
“There’s been a lot of problems with vamps lately,” I said.
He smiled again. Oh shit. There wasn’t even anything to s
mile about, but that shy smile floored me. The corners were like two tiny points poking into the dimples.
“It wasn’t us. Oh shit…” He smoothed his hair again, but the movement was more frantic this time. “I mean, we want the vamps stopped.”
I nodded. He said “us,” but there was no way he was a vamp. I could smell it, sense it in a thousand ways when I met one. He couldn’t be. No. That destroyed everything I believed in about vampires in this world. Vampires were horrible. But this guy was so not horrible. That smile, those dimples.
“Oh, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Kisho.”
He smiled again. If he wanted vampires killed, I’d kill them for him. He would never have to worry about a vampire again. That soft, sweet neck of his just called for a vampire to bite it, too. I’d protect that neck.
“We want the Demon Child destroyed.”
I sat up straighter in my chair. Not many people knew about the Demon Child. Well, not many human people. Maybe he was as famous as fuck in the demon world. Even though the news about the Club Soho massacre had been everywhere, the name Demon Child had never been mentioned in relation to it. Part of the mayor’s campaign to drip-feed information to the public, I guess.
I’d given up hope of getting those big, fat kudos for staking the Demon Child, but now the glow of hope ignited within. I didn’t care who paid the bills, so long as someone did.
“What do you know about the Demon Child?” I asked.
“Not much,” he replied.
He’d stopped smiling now. I wanted the smile back. I wanted the dimples.
“Was he working alone? Do you know that much?”
“Yes.”
Damn. That was some destruction for a single vamp. Even for a pack, it’d have been a damn mess. Did that Demon Child have hollow legs? How do you even feast on that many people in one night?
“That’s unbelievable.”
“He’s not like other vampires. He’s only young in vampire years, yet he’s strong. Way too strong for his years. Also, he was a world-class gymnast back in Russia, before he was turned, so he has super-fast reflexes.”
That was more than Harry McConchie knew. That put me one step ahead.
Kisho looked around him, as though taking in his surroundings for the first time. I hoped he didn’t judge me harshly for my decor.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
He smiled again. That smile embraced me. So far, our relationship was perfect. He was super cool and good looking. He’d cleaned up my reception area, and his boss was going to pay me to take on the biggest job of my career. The stars were definitely in alignment for me today.
“Thank you,” he said, sweeping his hair back with his right hand.
The wound on the back of his hand! Like someone had jabbed him with a stake.
Fuck my life.
I jumped out of my seat and grabbed that hand.
“What are you playing at, buddy? You’re the creep who jumped me in the alley.”
He looked up at me with those puppy-dog eyes. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe he just coincidentally had a similar mark on his hand. It could happen. Surely, if he was a vampire, that wound would be healed by now.
“Sorry…”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it. You could’ve really hurt me.”
His expression softened even more. I wanted to put my arm around him and tell him it was okay, except it wasn’t. Why was Cute Guy so fishy? Why couldn’t my life just go well for once?
“I work for Nic.”
No! He did not just say that.
“No way. Not in a million years.”
“He really wants you to meet with him.”
I let go of his hand and leaned against my desk. I needed to take this in. The Demon Fighter award had been within my reach again, and again it had vanished. If I took this job, not only would I never win that award, I could lose my Demon Fighter license altogether. The Demon Fighter board had no forgiveness for anyone who worked for the other side.
Blacklisted for life.
Even for all the money and kudos in the world, I couldn’t take this job. Add in that his boss annoyed the hell out of me and was obviously dodgy as fuck.
Wait? He worked for Nic. That meant he was… no way.
I smiled and reached behind my desk, trying to subtly open the drawer from the awkward angle. It wasn’t easy to do.
“Just a moment.” Stupid drawer, always sticking.
I walked around and tugged it as hard as I could. Of course, that sent it flying. But I did get out what I wanted. The bottle of holy water I kept for situations like this.
Kisho kept his gaze on me. All quizzical, like he thought I was a bit strange. I smiled, trying to look reassuring. I held the bottle behind my back until I got close to him, trying to unscrew the lid without being too obvious about it. He smiled at me. He didn’t suspect a thing. Maybe he was human.
I splashed the water on his face.
“Ouch. That stings.”
He rubbed his face, trying to get the water off it.
Fucksticks. He was most definitely a vampire. A dirty, filthy vampire. That explained his super strength. It didn’t explain the rest of it, though.
“Get out. Get out of my office.”
He frowned again. Holy hell, I couldn’t deal with that.
“You understand I can’t work with you. I shouldn’t even be seen with you. If the Council finds out—”
“If I go back without you, Nic will be angry.”
“Not my problem.”
Hell, he was going to cry. How did this vamp survive on the mean streets?
“Just come talk to him. You don’t need to take the job. You just need to talk. Nic wishes it.”
“Yeah, well, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Or kill the horses and eat them because if you’re a beggar, horsemeat would be a few substantial meals. Anyway, I’m not going to his lair and putting myself in danger.”
“It’s not really a lair.”
“It’s a place where vamps hang out. I call that a lair.” I smiled, hoping to soften my words.
“It’s an Airbnb.”
“Huh?”
“You know, that company where people rent out apartments or spare rooms. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it. It’s very popular.”
“I’ve heard of it, I just didn’t…”
Nothing this guy said jelled with my ideas about vampires. Maybe I’d lost my touch somewhere along the way, but I doubted it. Vampires didn’t pop into your office and start cleaning. They didn’t do motivational speaking, and they most definitely didn’t live in Airbnb apartments. They lived in dirty nests filled with the bones of their victims. They had the lingering scent of blood on them, not chocolate cake. And they melted neither my heart nor my panties.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a lease when you’re undead? Airbnb is much easier. So, you can be assured we won’t be doing any hunting or killing there. We had to pay a security deposit, and you get really bad reviews if you leave blood splatters on the walls or human gunk in the carpet. Nic has a perfect five-star rating. You can check his Airbnb profile if you don’t believe me.”
“I suppose you get Ubers instead of flying too?”
“You know we can’t fly, right?” He looked so damn earnest saying that.
“I know. I was making a joke. A joke.” I guess that comment I had brewing about Ubereats wouldn’t work either. Still, I didn’t need a sense of humor in my pretty man-toy.
But I did not want to meet Nic the motivational speaking vampire. Even if he did live in an Airbnb with a perfect review record.
“What’s an internationally famous motivational speaking vampire doing in Melbourne anyway?”
He looked at me as though that was totally obvious.
“Trying to stop the Demon Child. This could end up being a huge problem for us. Also, Nic and I are the only ones here at the moment. The rest of the pack aren’t in town. There’s trouble going down, and it’s best
they aren’t involved in it. You’d be perfectly safe.”
“So, why are you still in town?”
“He needs me.” His lips drew together, almost pursed but not quite. It was a movement far more sensual than it should’ve been.
“I can’t do this. You know that, Nic knows that and I know that.”
Kisho frowned. I ached to wipe that frown away with my hand, but the only way to do that would be to agree to meet with that stupid vampire. No way. Still, he looked so sad at my refusal. I should just stake him and take away all the temptation, but that seemed so mean.
His phone beeped. He fumbled with his jacket pocket to get the phone out and read it. He blushed a little and fumbled again. There was something in that message. I needed to read it.
I got up from my chair and flew at him, grabbing the phone out of his hand. In the struggle, I ended up in his lap. Not even intentionally. His hands were huge, but I got the phone free from him.
“Don’t worry about the bitch. There’s another hunter. Harry McConchie. Try him instead.”
“McConchie won’t work with you,” I said. “He’s too by the book. I was supposed to see that message, right? Your pretty boy boss wanted me to read it, then get all competitive.”
Kisho blushed. Yeah, I thought so. I wasn’t played that easily.
“Please meet with him. He ordered me to get you, no matter what it took. I can’t fail.” He bowed his head.
“No way. And that’s final.”
He stood up, all sadness and brooding. “I’ll leave Nic’s card, just in case you change your mind.”
I took the card from him and threw it on my desk. “I won’t.”
Chapter 8: Twisted Games
Okay, curiosity got the better of me. I had to know why this Nic guy wanted to see me.
The address on the card wasn’t far from my office. I could walk past the house and get a feel for the place. I mean, I practically had to go that way to get home. I wasn’t intending to spy on him or anything like that, just see where he lived and what sort of person he was.
