She loved Jileen’s parents, but she needed some time alone to come to terms with the events of the last few days. Last night, every time she closed her eyes, she saw Andrei with blood on his hands, heard his deep, sexy voice saying he wanted her. He had saved her life and she was more grateful than words could express, but she couldn’t stop thinking that he had killed three men right before her eyes, no matter that they were vampires trying to kill her. He was a hunter. How many vampires had he destroyed? Did she want to go to bed with a killer? Even one who had saved her life?
It was a question that haunted her for the rest of the day, whether she was watching TV, sending an e-mail off to her mother, or trying to read a book. Of course, she might be worrying for nothing, since he hadn’t asked to see her again.
Tossing the book aside, she stared out the window as another, more troubling question niggled at her mind. Why were all these vampires coming after her?
And why now?
Was it just a coincidence that three vampires had tried to kill her in the last few days? She sure wanted to think so.
Suddenly exhausted, she rested her head on the back of the sofa and closed her eyes....
And Andrei was there. Clad in ubiquitous black, his dark eyes aglow with desire, he wrapped her in his embrace and swept her away to a place where she had never been. He aroused her in ways she had never imagined, wooed her with whispered words of love, seduced her with his kisses, until she cried out for him to take her, only to turn away in horror when she saw the blood on his hands....
She bolted upright, a long, shuddering sigh of relief escaping her lips.
It had only been a dream.
* * *
Deep in his lair, Andrei roused from his daytime rest. He had been dreaming, something he had not done in over seven hundred years.
Dreaming of Tessa.
Seducing Tessa.
Until she had seen the bloodstains on his hands . . . so much blood.
He stared into the silent darkness that enveloped him like a shroud.
Vampires didn’t dream, so how was it possible that he was dreaming of her?
That he was dreaming at all?
And then he knew the answer.
It was the blood.
Tessa’s blood.
Chapter Five
Luke Moran signaled the bartender for another drink, then went back to studying the horde in the Crypt. It was a big crowd for a Sunday evening. His buddy Gene had hinted that this was a favorite hunting ground for vampires. Luke could see why. The atmosphere was suitably creepy, the music dark and heavily sensual. Without exception, everyone in the place wore black—a color favored not only by rebellious teenagers but by the undead, as well. Many wore long capes and cloaks or sported other goth attire.
Heaving a sigh, Luke reached for his drink. He had been here for over an hour, but, to the best of his knowledge, there wasn’t a bloodsucker anywhere in sight.
Vampire hunting had seemed like an easy way to make a few bucks. Find one of the creatures. Follow him to his lair. Take his head while he was trapped in sleep during the day, or snap a photo of the creature with a stake in its heart. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. He had been on the job for about eight months and, thus far, he hadn’t found a single vampire.
And yet, they were here somewhere. Five bodies drained of blood were proof of that. Of course, the vampire or vampires responsible might have left town. How would he know?
Might as well face it—he was a flop as a hunter. But then, like Gene said, the only good hunters were born that way. And Gene should know. He was one of the best. Luke could arm himself with strings of garlic and wooden stakes and gallons of holy water, but he didn’t have his friend’s instincts, and he never would.
Hell, maybe it was time for him to look for greener pastures . . . there was nothing to keep him in Cutter’s Corner. Nothing but that sweet filly Jileen.
She was a pistol, that one. More fun than any chick he’d ever dated. Maybe it was time to give up this idea of being a vampire slayer, find a nice, steady nine-to-five job here in town, and settle down with that little spitfire.
Pleased with his decision, Luke drained his glass. He was on his way out the door, thinking he might just drop in on his lady fair, when he brushed shoulders with a man entering the club.
Like everyone in the Crypt, the newcomer was dressed all in black, but there was something about him . . . Luke couldn’t put a name to it, but he knew—knew!—that he was looking at the genuine article.
A real, one-hundred-percent, dyed-in-the-wool bloodsucker.
Glancing over his shoulder, Luke watched the man make his way to the bar. And all the while, his mind screamed the question: How did I know what he was?
Chapter Six
Andrei paused just inside the Crypt entrance, his eyes narrowing as he turned to look at the fair-haired young man walking out the door. Tessa’s scent, though faint, had clung to the man’s skin. What was that man to Tessa? More importantly, what was the man to her?