Vampire Hunter: Shadow Hunter

Chapter Three

Damon didn’t know what the hell had happened or why the fuck he’d chosen to kiss her… .

He glanced down at Tiffany as she sat on the crimson carpeting, and his heart jumped. Her gorgeous hair was slightly ruffled from where his hand had cradled her head, and her bottom lip was flushed a brighter shade of pink where he’d gently suckled it. Shit, he had never intended the night to go this way.

When he’d heard the approaching footsteps and covering her mouth wouldn’t shut her up, well…he’d done the first thing that had come to mind. And damn if that hadn’t been a huge freaking mistake. If he’d wanted her before, now he wanted her tenfold. His body was begging for him to take her, to press her up against the wall and make love to her until she screamed. His thoughts raced. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never lost his head like this before. This was Mark’s baby sister!

He fought the temptation to curse under his breath. He needed to knock some sense into himself. But he wouldn’t lose his cool. Before he’d sworn himself to the Execution Underground, if there was one thing his father had taught him about being a hunter it was not to lose his cool. And he’d never had a hard time with that until tonight.

He hadn’t even been with Tiffany more than half an hour and she was already unraveling him, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let that get in the way of his job. He couldn’t.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers in slow circles over his temples. There were six missing women out there, all probably dead, and who knew how many murdered and drained of their blood on the streets. It was his job to protect the future victims. The weight fell on his shoulders alone. He wouldn’t neglect his job, his sworn oath, for any woman, even Tiffany.

Not sure of what he was doing, he picked up his Desert Eagle and holstered the piece behind his back again.

Tiffany grabbed her Smith & Wesson from the floor, reloaded the magazine clip and stood.

He glanced at her, and his heart jumped into his throat. He had to get out of here, but he sure as hell couldn’t leave her behind.

She opened her mouth to speak. “I—”

He shook his head and cut her off. “You shouldn’t be dealing with these vampires. I won’t allow you to place yourself in danger like this.”

Her jaw dropped. She crossed her arms and fixed him with a hard stare. “Who do you think you are? Last time I checked, I didn’t wake up in the morning with the goal of pleasing random strangers. I’ll do whatever I damn well please.”

He should have expected her reaction. He just wasn’t used to dealing with women.

Damon fought the urge to throw her over his shoulder; he didn’t care if she kicked and screamed the whole way, nothing would stop him from protecting her. He exhaled a long breath. “This city isn’t safe for you. Six women are missing, and more have been murdered. I won’t have another death on my conscience because I let you waltz back into that club and play with murderers.”

Tiffany strode across the room to stand straight in front of him. The top of her head barely reached his pecs, but she glared at him as if she were seven foot two. She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Look, buddy, I’ve handled myself perfectly well for twenty-two years without any help from you, so I don’t care who you are, I’m not taking orders from you unless I damn well choose.” She jabbed at him with her finger again. “I’m a vampire hunter, not some tutu-wearing princess who needs to be rescued.”

Pushing past him, she stomped off toward the dance floor.

Just as stubborn as her older brother. Mark had always refused help when he’d needed it most.

Damon followed her. His eyes locked on to her figure as she nudged her way through the sweat-covered bodies on the dance floor. The pulsing red lights cast shadows on her hair, tinting it gorgeous shades of red and purple. Even from behind she was gorgeous. He pushed through the crowd until he reached her.

Before she knew he was there, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against his body. Using his leather jacket as a cover, he placed the Desert Eagle against her spine, leaned down and growled into her ear, “Walk toward the back door quietly and we won’t have a problem.”

“This is how you try to protect me?” she seethed.

Damon nudged her with his gun, and she walked forward. He battled the urge to suck on the delicate skin of her earlobe, to kiss his way down the length of her neck and collarbone. The smell of her skin was intoxicating. “I’d rather take you to the E.R. for a bullet wound than scrape your insides off the pavement because some demented vampire attacked you. At least with the gun you’d have a chance of survival.”

He forced her to march ahead of them until they reached the back of the club. He pushed open the door and corralled her into the dimly lit street alley. A burst of cold air hit his face, giving him the wake-up call he needed.

“Are you going to take the gun off me now?”

Without a word, Damon patted down the sides of her jacket and confiscated her Smith & Wesson. His hand slid over the stake inside her coat pocket.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? I thought you wanted to protect me.” The pitch of her voice dropped as her impatience rose.

He tucked the gun into his inside coat pocket. “I’ll let you keep the stake for protection, but I can’t have you wielding a gun at me.” He patted down her jacket again. “Any other weapons I should know about, or can I trust you?”

She didn’t answer. Her jaw clenched, and he could tell from her body language that she was seriously ticked off. Her expression made it very clear that she didn’t like being stripped of her weapons.

Damon lowered his gun.

She spun to face him. “You know—”

Before she could finish speaking he slung her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a feather from a very pissed-off eagle and jogged toward his gunmetal colored BMW Z4.

She kicked her feet and slammed her fists into his back, but he barely noticed. She yelled profanities at him the entire way to the car, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get her out of there. With the way Caius had been fixated on her, it wouldn’t be long before he questioned where she was, and he wasn’t going to be too happy about his dead bodyguard, either.

When they reached the Z4, Damon quickly hit the unlock button on his remote, wrenched open the door and dropped Tiffany, still kicking and screaming, into the passenger seat. He slammed the door. She shoved herself against it and beat against the window as he slid into the driver’s seat. Thank God for automatic locks and bulletproof glass. Standard issue from headquarters.

Within seconds he was shifting into Drive and stomping on the pedal. They zipped out of the alley at sixty miles per hour.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tiffany yelled. “Stripping me of my weapon and then throwing me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes? What are you? A caveman?”

He tried to tune her out, but it was no use. Damn him, he’d just sucked face with Mark’s little sister. But if he admitted it to himself, how many times had his thoughts wandered in that direction as he’d read Tiffany’s letters? Not while she’d been a teenager, but later, once she entered college, when the handful of years separating them hadn’t been as big a deal. Yeah, he’d wondered, all right.

“Hello!” She banged her fist on the dashboard. “This is the twenty-first century. This is called abduction, and in case you didn’t know, it’s illegal in every state!”

Damon growled, so low and throaty he surprised even himself. “Don’t.”

The tone of that one word shut her up.

He let out another grumble. “I’m trying to keep you safe, whether you like it or not. Sit back and put your seat belt on.”

Slowly she relaxed into her seat and clipped the seat belt into place. Damon sped toward the Golisano Hospital at full speed. The city lights and few people roaming the streets blurred as they sped by. There was no way of knowing the next best move without seeing the victim. Crime scene photos never did the actual carnage justice, and now that he was on the scene he needed to see the details firsthand.

After several minutes of silence, Tiffany finally broke. “Why are you doing this? Why do you care about me?” She fixed him with a hard stare. “Why do you care if I die?”

Damon bit his tongue and concentrated on keeping his expression flat, distant. He couldn’t let her know who he was. If he did, she would hate him and never trust him to keep her safe. But he couldn’t avoid her questions for long.

“It’s my job,” he said.

She shook her head, clearly not buying that for a single minute. “What about the other humans in there? Isn’t it your job to keep them safe, too?”

He gritted his teeth. She’d hit him right where it hurt, but he would never let her know that. “I can’t save everyone.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you save the one person in the entire building who needs the least amount of saving?” He didn’t respond. She huffed. “That makes total sense.”

He shot her an icy stare. “That sort of attitude is exactly why you need saving. You’re not invincible.”

She scoffed. “Neither are you.” She yanked up the sleeve of his leather coat. “See, I jabbed you right…” Her voice trailed off as she ran her fingers over his skin.

Electricity shot through his limbs. One small caress and she could bring him to his knees. He clenched his teeth. Everything in him fought against that knowledge. He couldn’t grant her power over him.

She stared at his forearm. The wounds had already begun to heal. The only remaining signs were several pink crescent-shaped scars, which at this rate would soon disappear.

Her eyes widened. “What are you?”

Tiffany stared at Damon’s arm. Her fingernails had dug deep into his skin not even half an hour earlier, and already the healed wounds were nothing but faint pink lines and some residual dried blood. She ran her fingers over the skin once more. Desire pulsed through her every time her skin connected with his. Her nipples hardened into taut peaks as she brushed the muscles of his forearms. She wanted to touch him all over. Run her hands up his thick biceps and onto his chest, down to places where she’d never touched a man before. The thought of their kiss lingered in her mind. She didn’t care that he’d only done it out of necessity. Her lips burned with the need to touch his again.

She drew in a sharp breath. She needed to calm herself. She barely knew this man. How could she want him, need him, so desperately? “What are you?” she repeated.

He didn’t look at her, just continued to stare at the road. “A vampire slayer, a hunter.”

“My brother, Mark, was a vampire slayer before he died.” She held back a small smile. “He’s the one who taught me how to kill vampires.”

Damon’s whole body stiffened like a rigid board. His hands squeezed the steering wheel tighter. The ice behind his eyes blazed a captivating blue.

Tiffany wished those eyes were hovering over her as his muscled body slammed into hers. She cleared her throat and blinked several times. She needed to get the image of him naked out of her head, no matter how delicious she was sure he would be. She knew nothing about him. She snapped her wits back into place.

“Look, I get that most hunters have this overwhelming sense of duty to protect the innocent. My brother was the same way, always spouting at me about what to do if a vampire ever attacked me and feeding me horror stories so I wouldn’t stay out too late at night. But I don’t need protecting. I may be a woman, but you seem to forget that I hunt vampires, too.”

Damon stared straight ahead at the road, his face unmoving and cold. “Not in my sanctioned territory, you don’t.”

Hot as he might be, the man had some serious control issues, and she would only take so much bossing around. “And who gave you the authority to claim this territory?”

He didn’t respond.

Realization washed over Tiffany like a tidal wave. She stopped her jaw from falling open. She deserved a good whap upside the head. How could she be such a moron? The thought crossed her mind briefly before, but it had seemed so unlikely.

“You’re a member of the Execution Underground,” she said. “Just like my brother.”

And B…

His hands tightened on the wheel. She didn’t need his confirmation to know she was right.

“You probably knew him.”

While she didn’t know many specifics about the clandestine organization, she did know that they trained men to be elite hunters of the supernatural and dispatched them across the globe to protect humanity. The Execution Underground had recruited her brother once they’d gotten wind of their parents’ brutal deaths. During the attack, he’d managed to save her from the monster, though he was totally untrained. The Execution Underground had been interested in him from that point on. They’d whisked him away to a private facility to train, while she’d stayed with their aunt Cecelia.

Whenever Mark had visited, he’d never shared much about the Execution Underground with her. She’d always gotten the impression that she wasn’t meant to know, and at the time she didn’t have the courage to ask.

To this day, she still didn’t know which vampire led the attack that killed her family, but she was determined to find out. Mark worked every day after their deaths to find their killer and to destroy the monsters that had stolen their parents’ lives, but Caius had taken his life before he could avenge their family. Now she wouldn’t rest until both Caius and the murderous vampire who destroyed their parents exploded like the overstuffed blood bags they were. She would never forget the moment when she discovered who Caius was. All the Execution Underground disclosed to her was the location of the nest Mark had raided. Their letter said he died “valiantly fighting the leaders of the nest.” It didn’t take much snooping around the vamp world to find out who that leader had been. Once she’d put two and two together, hunting Caius had consumed almost all her waking thoughts.

Without a word, Damon pulled the car to a stop outside Golisano Hospital.

She raised a brow. “What are we doing here?”

He turned to face her. “Would you cooperate more if I said I’m working a case and you could help me as long as you listen to my instructions?”

“I’d be more inclined than when you’re ordering me around for no reason.”

He fixed her with a hard stare before he exited the car. Once he pressed the unlock button, she scrambled after him, eager for more information. She’d never been part of an official case before. She’d only worked to avenge her family’s deaths, and always alone. Sure, she’d killed other vamps in the process, helping one innocent soul or another, but she had never worked a case.

Apparently there was a first time for everything.

Chapter Four

Dead was an awful smell to get used to. The scent of formaldehyde hit Damon’s nose as he and Tiffany walked into the morgue. After a few calls to the E.U. in order to clear things with security, they were able to enter the room with ease. The reflective silver surfaces and sharp sterilized instruments laid out on tray tables made the room as cold as the chilled air around them. She coughed and covered her face with her sleeve. Though Damon was new to working on his own, he’d shadowed some of the world’s most elite vampire slayers for the past several years. The smell of dead bodies no longer churned his stomach.

But the thought of all the children in the silver drawers lining the walls did.

There was nothing worse than working on a case involving children. The fact that Jane Doe was on the older side of childhood didn’t make it any easier. So much for sweet sixteen.

He walked to the small coroner’s desk in the corner and riffled through the files. There was bound to be more than one Jane Doe in the morgue, but only one with the type of extensive damage they were looking for.

Tiffany cleared her throat, still wiping desperately at her nose as if she were trying to erase the smell. “Do you know who we’re looking for?”

He continued searching through the stacks of papers without answering. She had to be somewhere near the top. He noticed a freshly printed page sticking out of a manila folder. He pulled at the edge. The header of the report identified Jane Doe by her extensive mutilation. This was not going to be pleasant.

“Damon,” she said again.

He turned toward her with the paper in hand. “Yeah, I know.”

Reading over the IDs, he matched the number on the report to the corresponding label on a drawer. He placed his hand on the cold metal handle as Tiffany walked to his side.

He nodded toward the drawer. “Don’t watch this.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I don’t have a weak stomach.”

“There are some things nobody should have to see.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and planted her feet firmly.

He let out a long sigh. “Suit yourself.” He pulled open the drawer and fought not to gag.

Immediately Tiffany ran to the small wastebasket near the coroner’s desk and hurled. Damon didn’t blame her one bit. He stared down at the unidentifiable body as anger built inside him. Even if they’d found an ID, it would have been next to impossible to identify this girl, and no parent deserved to see their child like this. A large, gaping hole took the place of her face. The lips, eyes and mouth were gone, like some gruesome figure in a haunted house or a B horror film.