Darius was an aggressive and often brutal leader and one that would not tolerate insubordination. He hated me because I’d killed several members of his pack. It didn’t matter that my directive had come directly from the council, because Darius liked to deal with pack problems in his own way. He didn’t like ‘outsiders’ stepping in his biz and took that shit personally. I’d been a thorn in his side as well as a major pain in his ass for years. Undermining the alpha’s authority was top of the list of things to ‘stay the hell away from’.
When Darius had eventually learned of our relationship, he’d done his damnedest to separate us, but Connor was stubborn as all get out and had fought his alpha’s wishes. His last resort had been to order Connor to stop seeing me, and a wolf could not go against a direct order from their alpha—it would be suicide to do so. If he had disobeyed, Darius would have been within his rights to kill Connor for defiance. I couldn’t have let that happen. I knew Connor well enough to know that going against Darius was exactly what he would have done to enable us to stay together.
The best case scenario would have been Connor’s expulsion from the pack, but wolves are social creatures and pack ties are important. I’d seen first-hand what happened to wolves that had got themselves cast out of their packs. Most couldn’t handle life as a rogue wolf. The solitude often drove them insane, and a crazy wolf was a danger—both to humans and to themselves. That’s when my hunter skills came into play. I was one of the people tasked with hunting them down and killing them.
If there was a chance of humans discovering the existence of even one supernatural being, then we were all at risk. It would have killed me to see Connor succumb to the same fate as some of the wolves I’d had to take out, so I’d done the only thing I could to ensure he’d stay safe. I’d walked away from him. It had nearly broken me at the time, but it had been for the best. Connor had to be better off without me risking his life just by sharing it. I hoped he’d forgiven me for leaving. Even if he couldn’t let go of the past, I knew he’d help me find Matt. Connor might be angry still, but he was fiercely loyal.
I arrived at Ivy’s with just over five minutes to spare. Connor was already there. He was sitting in our usual booth seat at the back, sipping from a large cup that undoubtedly held black coffee with too much sugar. He didn’t look up when I entered, even though his heightened wolf senses would have picked up on my scent the second I walked into the diner. As I strode through the room, trying to ignore the incessant fluttering of butterflies that had made themselves at home in my stomach, I checked out the other patrons that were dining—anything to keep my eyes off Connor’s tense body and the woeful expression on his handsome face.
There was no one of any consequence in the diner. A liquored-up bum sat at the counter, nodding off in his peach and pecan pie. A few high school students milled around the jukebox, joking openly about said bum, and a young couple seated near the door were holding hands and gazing adoringly into one another’s eyes. There were no supernaturals in the room except for Connor and I.
The place was quieter than it used to be, but otherwise it was the same old dive that I remembered with fondness. Connor and I had spent many an hour discussing tactics in the diner before and after we’d visited the local cemetery to hunt vampires. In the two years since I’d been gone, the place hadn’t had so much as a paint job, but I was grateful the décor had remained unchanged. The familiarity was strangely soothing, making it almost possible to imagine that the past two years without Connor hadn’t happened.
“It’s good to see you again, Raven,” Connor greeted, rising and nodding to the seat opposite. Connor’s impressive frame towered over me. Though I remembered every line and freckle on his perfect face, I’d forgotten how huge he was—how his body towered over mine, and, at five nine, I was by no means short. Just being near him again was enough to bring back a slew of memories of the last time I’d seen him—memories I’d unsuccessfully tried to bury.
I swallowed before answering. “You too.”
Reaching out, I shook Connor’s hand and the tingles of electricity that had been ever-present when we touched travelled up my arm and through my entire being, flooding my system with desire. Our greeting felt oddly formal considering what we had once meant to one other, but I hadn’t come to reminisce and Connor knew that. I tucked an unruly strand of my usually neat black bob behind my ear and sat in the booth seat opposite.
Despite the reason for our meeting, it was good to see him again—incredible, in fact. The wretched sadness and despair that had held me in its clutches for the past two years seemed to evaporate quicker than rain water in the Mojave. Connor, as always, looked spectacular. His rich, dark brown hair was longer than he used to wear it, his chiselled jaw covered with a few days’ worth of growth, but the rugged look suited him and even added to his appeal. His piercing dark blue eyes were just as captivating, and large, strapping shoulders, which appeared bigger than ever, framed his wide expanse of chest. He was dressed similarly to me, in a T-shirt and jeans, which fitted snugly around his long, muscular legs. Images of our limbs tangled together as Connor drove into my body made heat rise in my cheeks. I tried to curb my treacherous thoughts and get back to the matter at hand, but it was difficult to concentrate on anything when I was within touching distance of Connor. It always had been.
“I’m intrigued,” Connor said, snapping me out of my illicit recollections. “What is it you think I can do for you that you can’t do for yourself?”
I was disappointed that Connor didn’t want to waste any time on small talk, but what did we have to say to one another anyway? I didn’t want to discuss what had happened between us in the past—it would be too painful to do so—and what did that leave? The questions I wanted to ask him were strictly off limits, and besides, this was about Matt.
A glum-looking waitress appeared at our table almost immediately. While I sipped the deliciously hot and surprisingly good coffee she’d poured for me, I told Connor about everything that had happened since Matt and I had arrived in Austin. Connor had never disguised the fact that he disliked Matt, but he didn’t interrupt. His mouth was set in a tight line and a deep frown wrinkled his brow when I mentioned Matt’s idea to follow the vampire into the sewers so that we could corner him. When I’d finished recounting the story, Connor drank the last of his coffee before sharing his thoughts.
“It certainly doesn’t sound like a random attack. I get the impression that you and Matt were lured into those tunnels. I’d bet my last dollar it was a trap.”
“Yeah,” I said around a sigh. “That’s what I figured.”
“Do you have any idea who is out to get you here in Austin?”
I snorted. “Who the hell knows? I piss off a lot of people in my line of work, you know? Pick one.”
Connor’s mouth twitched but it didn’t curve up into a full smile. It was a shame—he had a heart-stopping smile and it had been a long time since I’d last seen it. But I didn’t want to think about that. Our little tête-à-tête was strictly business—had to be.
“You know that Darius is still gunning for you,” Connor disclosed.
“Yeah, I figured he would be.”
“I can’t believe that this has anything to do with him, though. It isn’t his style. Darius doesn’t play mind games, he doesn’t need to. If he knew you were back in town, he’d have grabbed you, not Matt. Let me call a few people.” Rising from his seat, Connor threw a few dollars on the table, signalling the end of our meeting. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
‘Thank you,” I said quietly.
Connor nodded stiffly and the seconds seemed to stretch into an eternity as I looked into his eyes. I hoped my expression conveyed how very sorry I was for hurting him. It was all I could do to keep my hands on the table and not reach out to touch him or take his hand. I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat as Connor tore his gaze away and headed for the door. After taking only a few steps, he paused and turned. My breath stuttered as I stared
at the face I knew so well—loved so well. If things had been different we could have been so happy together.
“It really is good to see you again, Raven.” Connor’s voice was rough and it cracked on my name. For the first time his mouth curved into a smile, but the expression didn’t reach his piercing, dark blue eyes. They remained sad, haunted. I gave up trying to swallow down the lump in my throat, which had grown so big it was choking the damn life out of me. Words failed me, but it didn’t matter. Connor didn’t give me the chance to reply. He turned and strode out of the diner without looking back again. I watched his retreating form with regret. Our reunion had been much shorter than I would have liked, but it was no more than I’d expected or deserved. I’d walked out on him two years ago and had only called now because I needed his help. I couldn’t blame him for being distant. It was obvious that Connor had moved on with his life. If only I could do the same.
Resting my elbows on the table, I scrubbed my hands over my face and rubbed at my tired eyes. Seeing Connor again had been painful—more so than I could have imagined. The sorrow that had been in his eyes when I’d delivered my parting shot had been still present. And what a shot it had been. Something died inside me the night I told Connor I didn’t love him anymore, but it was the only way he’d have let me go. I should have tried to find Matt without his help, but in truth I’d wanted to see Connor again, even though I knew that was selfish as hell. There was a constant ache in my heart that no amount of time or distance could cure. I guess the truth of the matter was that I didn’t want to be cured because that would mean I’d let Connor go. I wasn’t ready to do that, even though missing him was the worst kind of agony.
Chapter Three
I’d been hoping to get in a couple of hours of sleep before I heard back from Connor and had to go out again, but my cellphone started buzzing the second I arrived in the motel room. When I saw the number on my phone’s display, I had a feeling my lousy night was about to get a whole lot worse. I was tempted to let the call go to voicemail, but I had to get the conversation over with or the council would send in a team of operatives and that would be bad.
“Why isn’t Matt answering his cell?” Neal asked in a gruff voice as soon as I answered the call.
Lying would have been futile because Neal wouldn’t have settled for anything less than speaking to Matt himself.
“Because he’s missing,” I admitted. “Vamps took him.”
“What? Since when?”
“A couple of hours ago.”
“Why didn’t you call it in?”
I sighed wearily. “I’m on it, Neal. Just give me some time, please. I’ll find him.”
Neal wasn’t usually the cooperative type, but I’d worked under him for a long time and he trusted me implicitly. I hoped that would count for something.
“Seventy-two hours,” he conceded. “If you haven’t found him or I don’t hear from you when the time is up, I’m sending in a team.”
He hung up.
Well, crap. That could have gone better. What was I supposed to do in three days? Not a whole damn lot. I’d been involved in missions that had gone awry before and the results had been bad. The ‘team’ that Neal had referred to was a last resort. It consisted of hunters like Matt and me, but, unlike us, they were what you’d call a clean-up crew. A last resort, if you will. They took no prisoners and didn’t care how many lives had to be lost in the process of getting what they wanted. Any and all supernaturals that got in their way were dealt with swiftly.
We were all killers—I wasn’t trying to kid myself that I was innocent in all of this—but I had a conscience. I didn’t get a kick out of killing. It was simply something that I had to do to ensure the safety of all supernaturals. Hunters like Matt and I only ever took out supes that had killed others—the dregs of our society that would kill again if they got the chance. By killing, I was saving lives, or at least that’s what I told myself to help me sleep at night. The slayer teams were a different kettle of fish. It didn’t matter to them who was guilty or innocent. All they cared about was following orders and keeping our existence a secret from humans, whatever the cost. Lives were expendable to them—both civilians and other hunters like Matt. Which was why it was paramount that I found Matt before the team arrived—I was his last chance for survival.
I eyed the bed longingly before checking the dressing on my chest. It still burned like holy hell but at least it had started to heal. I didn’t have the super-fast healing abilities of vampires or many of the other supernatural species, but hunters did heal faster than humans. It was something to do with our genetic makeup. It wasn’t a bad trait to have, but I could think of better.
After I’d finished re-taping my chest, I threw on one of only two sexy dresses that I owned. It was a figure-hugging number in deep scarlet—definitely not a blend-into-the-background kind of dress. It had a high neckline and long sleeves, but it clung to my curves like a lover’s caress, and the hem was about an inch short of being obscene. After sliding my feet into a pair of killer heels, I put my trusty stake in my purse then headed down to the old warehouse district on Colorado and Third. I stopped briefly to hide my motel key in a plant pot outside the motel door. Losing a key one time too many during a fight with bloodsuckers had taught me never to take the thing with me, and letting the motel receptionist see my bruised or bloody body after I’d been in a fight with supes was not an option. Anonymity was tantamount in my profession—the less humans knew about what I’d been up to, the better.
I hated that I needed to wear the dress at all, feeling far more comfortable in my leathers or a pair of jeans. However, in those clothes I’d stand out like a sore thumb in the bars I was going to. Sometimes, showing a little leg worked wonders when one was trying to come by information, particularly in those situations in which I couldn’t use my fists—or stake. The trendy bars on Third and Fourth were the best places to find the people that could start giving me some answers. It was a long shot, but it was all that I had.
The first two bars were a complete bust. Filled to capacity with drunken humans, there wasn’t a single supernatural in sight. I struck gold when I entered the third bar. Most of the patrons were human there, too, but the incredibly handsome man propping up the bar was anything but. I sauntered over and took a seat on the stool next to him. Though I knew he wasn’t human because of his incredibly strong physic aura, I didn’t have the first clue what species he was and that fascinated me.
“You mind?” I asked, indicating the space I’d already occupied.
His eyes roamed salaciously over my legs and a self-assured smile played on his lips. Eventually his gaze lifted to meet mine.
“Never mind a beautiful woman sitting next to me,” he flirted. “What can I do for you, huntress?”
Busted! “How did you know?” I tried to keep my voice casual even though his statement intrigued me.
Vampires have a sixth sense about my kind in the same way that most animals can sense danger. Shifters usually figure out what I am too, even though I’m no threat to them, unless of course their nocturnal habits included killing humans and they caught the attention of the council. This man was neither. And most of the warlocks I’d encountered had assumed I was human.
As I studied his face, his smile grew wider. Even in the dim light of the bar, his pale blue eyes glistened like aquamarines under a cloudless sky. They were the prettiest colour I’d ever seen and as I stared into their depths they seemed to intensify. I could have willingly spent days getting lost in those eyes—I wanted to. My heart pounded thunderously as I leaned in closer to the beautiful man and breathed in his mouth-watering scent. It was as fresh as a sea breeze after a tropical storm—pure and untainted by the often overpowering scent of aftershave or cologne.
And his skin… His skin looked softer than an angel’s wing or the down on a newly hatched chick. I had a burning desire to reach out and touch him—a compulsion that overrode sense and practicality. I lifted my hand and inched it cl
oser, needing to feel the smoothness of his skin beneath my fingertips, to confirm with touch what my eyes had already distinguished. What would it be like to kiss him? His lips were perfectly formed, the colour of soft pink rose petals with the finest Cupid’s bow curve. I tilted my head to the side and leaned in. But then a firm hand landed on my shoulder and shook me roughly, wrenching me out of my trance.
“Watch yourself with him, he’s Fae.”
With a muttered curse, I tore my gaze from the handsome man, but not before I noticed a shadow pass over his face. His once beautiful features distorted and for a brief moment I caught a glimpse of the ugliness within. The fairy snarled at the man behind me then got up from his seat and headed for the door, hissing and swearing as he walked out of the bar.
Closing my eyes, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. In all my years as a hunter, I’d never come into contact with fairies, as they usually stayed in their own realm, but I knew those of the Unseelie court were not to be trusted. I also understood my own limitations and, though my abilities allowed me to be unaffected by a vampire’s glamour, I had no such protection from the Fae. Even so, I hadn’t thought their mojo would work quite so well on me. Clearly I needed to rethink that estimation. Jesus, if the guy had asked, I would have willingly offered up my mortal soul and then some.
My saviour walked around and took a seat on the now empty stool beside me. When I got a look at his face for the first time, the dread settled into my stomach. I’d thought the voice had sounded familiar, but I’d still been under the Fae’s spell when he’d spoken and the recognition had only barely penetrated my dulled senses. Could the night get any worse? If there was one person I hadn’t wanted to run into and certainly didn’t want to owe a debt of gratitude to, I was looking at him.
A Demon in Dallas Page 2
