Dark Promises(55)

Trixie screamed. She wasn’t the screaming type and her scream scared her. Most likely it scared the angels in heaven. She lifted her hand and pointed at him. An honest-to-God vampire. Staring at her. It took a moment to realize the little gun was in her hand and she convulsively pulled the trigger. The tiny little stake flew out of the gun and hit him high in the shoulder.

He winced. His eyes, a gorgeous blue—and they were gorgeous, she’d noted that—darkened. Became twin storm clouds. More, he’d been entirely naked. As in naked. All of him. Even the best parts, and although it was truly her worst nightmare, she’d still noted his best parts were really the best. Holy cripes.

Her stupid little stake hadn’t done the trick. She backed up, tripped and went down on her butt, hand trying to find the other stakes. She was loading the gun when he rose. Floated. In the air. Floated. Feet not on the ground. Holy cripes all over again. She shoved the stake in the gun and let fly a second time.

The stake nailed him in his arm. It really wasn’t a point-and-aim kind of weapon like it was advertised and it didn’t seem to be killing him. At all. He looked really alive and really big. Lots of muscle. Lots of . . . um . . . everything.

She caught up the holy water and flung the glass vial at him, forgetting to take out the stopper. He caught the vial in midair. He was fast. Very fast.

“Köd alte hän, emni,” he snapped.

His voice was like music, even when he was cursing. The sound made her stomach curl, something that hadn’t happened since she was fifteen years old. And he definitely was swearing at her.

“Stay back, vampire,” she hissed, holding out the big silver cross. So far her very expensive vampire-hunting kit wasn’t working. Hopefully the cross was real silver. “And for God’s sake, put some clothes on.”

Because really. How could she keep her mind on killing him when he was right there in all his glory? And he had glory.

A slow smile pulled at the hard edges of his mouth. He looked all man. Not those skinny, prissy boys they put on the covers of the books she liked to read. No, he was definitely a man. Hard edges and lots and lots of muscle. He might be a bloodsucking vampire, but he was a really hot, manly one. If she was going to die, at least the vampire killing her was scorching hot. She could take that to her grave and perv on it for a very long time in the hereafter.

“Lady, put that silly cross down and tell me what you are doing, because so far, you have shot your lifemate with two darts and thrown a glass vial at him. All of which can be considered disrespectful.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Disrespectful?” Oh, no, he was not going to pretend she wasn’t a worthy opponent. “Those are not darts. They are stakes. And I’ve got more where they came from so don’t think you’re going to take a bite out of me.”

His smile warmed his eyes, and seriously, there it was again, that stomach curl. This time it was accompanied by a curious flutter in the region of days gone by. Long gone by. As in forgotten. As in seriously cobwebby. He was dangerous, and he just had to put on clothes because she couldn’t stop looking.

“You are trying to kill me?”

“Well of course.” She put her hands on her hips. “You’re a vampire and I’m huntin’ you. So yes. You’re going to have to die, which is very sad and I don’t like being the one to have to dispatch you because your music is beautiful, but I’m up to the task so don’t come any closer.” She glared at him. “And put some clothes on.”

It had been a long while since she’d seen a naked man and she didn’t remember them looking like him. The artists, the ones famous for their sculptures, didn’t get it right. They should have tried sculpting him—before he became a vampire anyway.

“You’re distracting me and I’ve got a job to do,” she announced, before she could stop the words tumbling out of her mouth. Now she knew where her granddaughter got her compulsion for blurting out things when she was nervous.

“And your job is to kill me?” he asked.

His voice was gentle, almost a caress. She felt the notes stroke over her skin like the touch of fingers. She shivered. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to listen to his voice while she slept. In her dreams. All night. The tone was beautiful, like his song.

“Someone has to do it, and I don’t shirk. You’re a gorgeous hunk of male, but that doesn’t matter. I won’t have you biting me and bringing me to the dark side.”

His smile widened. He had white perfect teeth. Not, she noted, vampire teeth.

“I appreciate that you think I am a gorgeous hunk of male.”