The Jaded Hunter

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The Jaded Hunter Page 3

by Michelle M. Pillow


  Death didn’t frighten her. His nearness did. She waited for the first sting of his teeth, knowing the first puncture must be the worst. She had prepared her whole life for this moment, knowing it to be a hazard of the job. It was why she chose to end this way rather than a faster method. At least by this death, she was saving one last innocent life—the man whose fate she’d interrupted.

  The vampire renewed his hold on her face in a stroking caress. His fingers brushed over her ear to tilt her further to the side. Jaden closed her eyes, waiting for the draining of her limbs.

  Slowly, and with a drawn out precision, he pulled her forward. Muscles folded around her body as he loomed over her, pressed intimately against her. She felt the brush of lips on her skin, pulling across the tautness of her sweating flesh. The summer’s heat engulfed them, but the chill of his body sent a pleasant coolness over her.

  Just a few more seconds, she thought.

  He pressed a kiss to her throat. Jaden jolted in surprise at the softness of it. She inhaled a jagged breath. He kissed her again, his tongue dragging over her flesh. Desire flooded her limbs, a quick outburst that put strength in her weakened knees. When he didn’t claim her blood, she indecisively pulled back. She gazed at his mouth, expecting to find it stained crimson. It was not.

  The soft glowing haze of his eyes caught her. For a moment, she thought she felt desire within him—so soft and gentle was his gaze on her. She could almost believe he cared for her, desired her, loved her.

  “One last kiss before death,” he whispered. His breath fanned over her cheek with the caress of a man. “I always kiss those as precious as you before I kill them.”

  Jaden couldn’t find her words. She was lost in the haze of a dream. The pleasure of his words baffled her. Her voice became locked inside her chest. He came towards her with great care. Stiffening, she awaited the brush of his mouth on hers. His lips parted as if to deepen the intentions of his kiss. Jaden instinctively pressed her lips together in denial. It was the only way she could fight him.

  But, as the soft velvet of skin touched her, she gasped. His mouth was not as cold as she imagined and his lips did not taste of blood, though she had seen him eating. Her hands traveled up his chest to the sides of his face in acceptance.

  The vampire leaned over her. His fingers found hold, twining beneath her low ponytail. Taking advantage of her parted mouth, he rubbed his lips along hers twice to test her resolve before opening his mouth wide. With the precision of a surgeon, he cut his teeth deep into her lip with a needle-like strike to draw blood.

  Jaden released a sharp breath of dismay. Her eyes rounded in horror at the pain. She pushed viciously at him. The vampire let her go and she stumbled back from him in confusion. The strength she’d borrowed from him brutally drained from her, leaving her numb and disoriented. Watching the iciness of his eyes, she saw the light fading from them. He had mesmerized her to his will, tricked her into kissing him like a pliant fool. Angrily, she touched her lips. Flicking her tongue over the injury, she tasted blood. “You marked me!”

  “I did,” he said with annoying self-possession.

  “Why? That wasn’t the deal.” She caught the amusement filtering his gaze. He was laughing at her. And no wonder. She had made it easy for him.

  “There was no deal. You sought me out. I never said I wanted you.” Licking his fangs in a drawn out show of tasting her blood, he added purposefully, “Mmm, dhampir.”

  “How?”

  “Your blood tells your story.” The vampire gave her a wide smile. She would’ve thought him overjoyed if not for the threat of boredom shading his eyes.

  “But you’re not old enough to know that. I made sure that you weren’t.” This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t know what she was. But somehow, he did. And he marked her as his own. Now no other would dare to touch her to finish the job he started. This one would be able to track her wherever she went. His affront was worse than death. It was a death sentence without the release of an ending. She felt the noose tightening around her.

  “Mayhap you mistook—” he offered, his look harboring on the outermost edge of repentance.

  “Finish it,” she commanded fiercely. Hatred bubbled within her as she looked at him. She wanted him dead for what he dared to do to her. If he let her go, being marked by a vampire would impede her ability to do her job. He could find her, track her, treat her like a pet. Now she had no choice. “Finish it now or—”

  “Or?” he taunted.

  “I’ll kill you.”

  “You will try,” the creature countered, never losing composure.

  “I’ll succeed. I always finish what I set out to do.”

  “You will assuredly fail if you come after me.”

  Jaden growled, realizing his banter was just another way for him to toy with her. No matter what she said, he would respond in kind with his overbearing contempt and disdain. Not wasting any more of her night on words, she darted forward. Her foot struck the creature in the chest. She was enraged, and the desire to spill blood overtook her.

  The attack caught him by surprise. His face contorted from amusement to annoyance. He stumbled back slightly from the force of her assault. Stiff as her kick had been, it didn’t faze him, not really. With a weary sigh, he stood up straight. Brushing the dusty footprint from his chest with the backs of his fingers, he shook his head.

  Jaden ignored the warning in his eyes. Flinging her wrist at his throat, she attacked. Quickly, his annoyance faded and he smiled at her—an aggravatingly handsome expression that drove her to distraction. The vampire blocked her with an elegant lift of his arm. Jaden turned with another sweeping kick. It missed its aim, but hit his stomach. She was rewarded with a satisfying grunt.

  The vampire blocked several more of her blows with easy movements of his body. He had the gift of speed on his side as he moved from her path. Jaden’s kick ended on a trash can, denting the metal bin. Spinning on her heels, she backed him into a corner, knowing deep down that he didn’t return upon her with full force. She became more aggressive in her desperation. If he wouldn’t bite her, then maybe he would beat her to death.

  Landing a punch on his jaw, she jeered, “Scared of a little mortal? Scared of fighting back?”

  The vampire snarled at the series of annoying stings she dealt him. With one controlled flick of his hand, he smacked her cheek, sending her flying backward into a brick wall. The breath oozed from Jaden’s lungs as she landed prone on the ground. With that one blow, the fight was over. He had won.

  Jaden rested motionless on the concrete, gulping for air. Wet pebbles pressed into her skin and the smell of dirty streets invaded her nostrils. When she finally managed a feeble push up from the ground, the vampire was standing above her. His eyebrow arched in question. Jaden shook her head.

  “No,” she panted, falling back to sit against the wall. She brushed her cheek on her shoulder, knocking loose the dirt and gravel. Her spine ached as if it had been snapped. She couldn’t even muster the will to glare at him, though she hated him enough to do so. “I’m done fighting you.”

  “Good.” The vampire turned on his heel to leave. He was completely unharmed.

  “Wait,” Jaden called breathlessly. When he turned to her with an exasperated sigh, she said, “Just one thing, nightstalker.”

  “What?” The dawn was drawing near.

  “Your name. At least tell me your name so that I may know who bested me this night.”

  The vampire was not fooled by her false modesty. They both knew she didn’t consider herself bested. She would just bide her time before coming after him again. Even in her weakened state, she could not hide the pride shining in the jade green of her eyes. She looked towards the ground.

  “Tyr.” He jumped into the air. His body dissolved into a strange mist as it filtered over the dank alleyway. In an instant he was gone, disappearing into the night.

  Jaden shuddered in disbelief over the whole tragically horrible experience. For a long ti
me she didn’t move, staring after him into space, the back of her head pressed against the brick wall. Her legs wobbled when she moved them. Her body was numbed from his punch. A throbbing angered her cheek. She did not move to touch it. Finally, as the lightness of dawn loomed, she pushed up from the ground and swore, “Next time I’ll be ready for you Tyr. And I’ll make you regret not finishing what you started. This is one dhampir you should never have marked.”

  Tyr studied the brave woman from his place in the shadows, knowing she couldn’t see him. She was pretty but not glamorous. Her body was athletic and well used. He knew what she was from that first moment, felt the strength inside her veins. Just as he could tell she wasn’t there to try to harm him.

  What captured his attention the most was the peculiar shade of deep jade that glittered dispassionately in her eyes. And at his age, that anything captured his attention was unusual. Those eyes were the only thing that had kept him from abandoning her for the sovereignty of the night.

  When he unleashed his powerful thoughts to pry into her mind, he felt a well of passionless emotions inside of her. In the brief second he was inside her thoughts, he detected one word drowning out all the others—death. And then she’d kicked him out. If he wanted to he could force himself back in, but he found waiting for her to reveal herself much more diverting. Besides, he didn’t like to feel inside of humans. They were too messy, too unorganized, too alive.

  He could’ve escaped her at any time if he truly wanted. But he hadn’t. He would never fully understand why he didn’t. Perhaps it was her bravery in facing him. Perhaps it was her acceptance of his existence—acceptance without trembling or fear.

  His eyes darted to her slender neck as she moved slowly out of the alley. He focused on her artery, protruding from under the thin veil of skin. It was a tempting idea, one that his teeth were capable of taking. It would take no effort to pierce the flesh. Even now, he heard her rushing blood. He smelled its sweet scent—alluring, proud, yet tainted by her emotions.

  “Soon, dhampir,” he promised silently. “Very soon.”

  Chapter Two

  “Gentlemen,” Alan ‘Mack’ MacNaughton acknowledged good-naturedly as he stood from his large oak desk. His very presence demanded attention. He smiled politely, giving the two men before him a confident nod of his head. “There is nothing to worry about. I assure you that you and your wives will be perfectly safe within one of our specially developed vehicles, and one of my men will be with you at all times to assure your well-being.”

  Alan MacNaughton was a slender man with unmistakable elegance and grace. He embodied everything those with money and affluence strove for. His soft features were carved without the stone cast of hardship. His dark brown hair, sprinkled only lightly with gray at the temples, and light eyes added an amiable appeal to his complexion that belied the cool confidence of his true nature. He was a charming man, pleasant to be around. If he wanted you to like him, you most likely would. He used his charm and grace to his fullest advantage. Mack, as he was called amongst his peers, was a ruthless businessman. His business was vampires.

  “That’s good to hear, Mack,” a swarthy man answered. He had dark hair and eyes. “Marianne insists this is what she wants. It’s our second anniversary and I don’t want her to be disappointed. Cynthia Rothwell told her what you did for them. And I’ll be damned if I’ll be shown up by Henry Rothwell.”

  “She won’t be disappointed, Sizemore,” Mack answered with confidence. His smile invited their trust. “You have my full assurance.”

  “Good,” the swarthy Sizemore said. He motioned to his companion with a small grin and said, “Hell, Stevens, if our wives like it, maybe we should bring out those two girls we met in Vegas last week. I bet the four of us could have one hell of a time.”

  Stevens, a tall, slender man with a long nose and hawk-like eyes laughed in return. With a slow blink, he nodded in agreement. He didn’t speak much, leaving words to his blustering friend.

  Sizemore glanced back at Mack and explained, “My wife would never go for your more ‘elaborate’ packages, but what this wildcat redhead I picked up couldn’t do...”

  The man left his words unsaid, but the sexual implication behind his eyes as he winked knowingly told more than his words could have. A tempered chuckle escaped his lips, joined by his companion’s lighter laugh.

  “What do you say, Mack? Will you give us a discount for the second trip?” Sizemore asked. By his clothing it was obvious he and his companion had no concern about money. Like most rich people, he enjoyed negotiating a bargain.

  Before answering, Mack leaned down and pushed a button on his intercom. No voice answered the soft buzz. Lightly, he indulged, “Sure. But just because I like you.”

  The men laughed. The library door opened to acknowledge the summons. Mack waved his hand.

  “Gentlemen,” Mack began. “This is Tom Carter. He will be going with you on your little adventure.”

  The men reached out, shaking Tom’s hand with enthusiasm.

  “If you’ll follow me,” Tom said. “I’ll go over the details of what you would like to see. And,” he paused with a pointed grin to Mack, “if you desire I might even arrange for you to pull the trigger yourself, so to speak, for an additional price.”

  The men murmured in agreeable excitement.

  “What about champagne for the ladies?” Sizemore asked. “And scotch for us men?”

  “And dinner afterwards,” Stevens added quietly, talking more to his friend than to the group.

  “All will be taken care of,” Tom assured the men. “If you have any preferences, feel free to tell me as we go over the final details.”

  “Yes,” Mack proclaimed with a wave of his hand. “Follow Tom. There are just a few forms to fill out and then he’ll help you transfer your payment to my account.”

  The two men quickly took their leave with many thanks. As they were departing, Sizemore boomed, “So you actually do this for a living, son? By George, what an adventure! If I wasn’t born so damned rich, I like to think that I might have become a vampire hunter. In my college days I was quite the experienced boxer...”

  When the door closed behind his clients, muffling the blustering man’s words, Mack smiled in self-satisfaction. His eyes narrowed. His face became less charming now that he was alone.

  The tall ceiling of his library curved high overhead with Renaissance women painted on the wooden panels. The dark wood of the shelves housed endless volumes of books and artifacts. It was the pinnacle of his written collection. Large drapes hung from ceiling to floor, covering the crosshatched panes of gigantic windows. Tastefully expensive artwork decked the walls. A sculpture nestled on the planked wood floor and a thick Oriental rug gave relief to the dark wood.

  Lifting the lid on his cigar box, Mack helped himself to an imported cigar. Smoke curled around him as he made his way around his desk to his computer. With a click of a few buttons, he brought up his account. Then, sitting at the leather chair before his desk, he flashed a wide, dreamlike smile as he waited patiently for the money to transfer.

  * * *

  Jaden stretched her arms over her head as she wearily climbed the steps to the second level of her uncle’s Upper East Side apartment. Mack owned the building, reserving many of the rooms below his penthouse for the men who worked for him. He liked to keep his employees close, and being above so many talented vampire killers was an added perk in his line of business.

  On the first level of the penthouse was the open main hall, showcasing the curling staircase and railing along the upper hallway. The swirling cream pattern of the marble-covered floor gleamed with understated elegance, combining with the dark wood was an ongoing theme in the apartment. To the right, the servants worked and even lived on the first level alongside the kitchen and utility rooms. Jaden never went beyond the hall in that direction.

  Next to the kitchen was a large entertainment room. No one ever watched television in the house. Their lives were too intere
sting without it. But the large flat screen and a leather couch were kept there nonetheless. If not for the servants, they would’ve accumulated dust long ago.

  To her left was the dining room. Mack often held dinner parties for those of higher rank who worked for him. Jaden made a point of being unavailable on such occasions. Those of his men who didn’t know her would frequently gain too much encouragement in drink and find themselves asking the rudest questions about her heritage, and every one of them wanted to see what she was like in bed. She made it a rule never to be with anyone who knew what she was. She wouldn’t be a game to the lot of immature boys Mack employed.

  Jaden made her way quietly up the stairs. She ignored the long windows at the top of the staircase showing the brilliance of the familiar New York skyline. She had lived with her uncle for years, growing up in the luxury of his many homes. But to her the luxury wasn’t what it would appear to most. To her, it was a place to crash after endless nights of training and working had taken its toll.

  Nowadays, she rarely stayed in the same house as Mack. Her work carried her all over North America and occasionally overseas. She lived out of hotel suites and boarding houses. She didn’t mind. She liked the travel and she was left to her own devices, which she preferred. And if she ever decided to have a meaningless affair then so be it. The men she picked rarely spoke her language. If they did, it was usually broken and she would be gone before they woke up the next morning. Not that she did it often.

  In the highest level of the penthouse were the bedrooms—hers and Mack’s only. Apart from conducting business in his study, her uncle didn’t invite many guests into the house. He liked his privacy too much. There was a library, and each of them had their own bathrooms off the hall.

 

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