Chapter One
New Year’s Resolution Number One: Don’t be afraid to say…yes.
She should have said no. As Lark Kinsley stood on the snow-covered balcony, the cold Chicago night sending chills coursing through her body, she knew that she should have said no.
No, she didn’t want to be set up on a blind date with a stranger.
No, she didn’t want to spend New Year’s Eve in a crowded party being jostled by drunk people that she didn’t know.
Instead, she just wanted to stay home, turn on the TV, and maybe watch that ball drop from the wonderful comfort of her overstuffed couch—
“You look lovely under the moonlight.”
He’d found her. Crap. She’d thought that when she’d ducked out of the throng inside and slipped onto the balcony, she’d escaped her date from hell.
Sadly, no such luck. Her shoulders stiffened as Lark turned around and faced Charles Hurley.
He was handsome. Tall, fit, with blond hair and bright blue eyes.
She noticed that he’d left his jacket inside.
The guy had to be freezing out there. No one else was on the balcony.
The others were all too busy inside, getting ready for the big countdown.
“Lark?” Irritation sounded in his voice. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You look lovely.”
Oh, right. “Thank you.” She forced a smile.
Charles had been kind and charming all evening, but…
jeez, there was just something off about him.
Every time he got too close to her, Lark’s stomach would clench, and a shiver—one that had nothing to do with the cold—would slide over her skin.
She hadn’t felt this way, not in a very long time.
Not since…
He looked over his shoulder toward the closed balcony doors, then back at her, and the smile he gave her seemed to hold a cruel edge.
“It’s just us. The music is so loud in there, no one can hear a thing we say.
” He stalked closer to her and blocked her access to the doors.
“You could probably scream, and no one would hear you.”
Okay, yes, hello, huge red flag. Her smile faded instantly as her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket.
Unlike him, she’d come out into the cold prepared.
She always believed in being prepared. It was how her mother had raised her to be.
“I don’t think this is working out,” Lark told him carefully.
“I’m actually going to leave the party and head home—”
Now he was directly in front of her. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Uh, excuse me?”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Charles stared into her eyes. A hard, creepy stare. His voice dropped as he told her, “You don’t want to leave. You want to stay right here and offer yourself to me.”
“Are you drunk?” He didn’t sound drunk, but Lark figured she should ask the question, just to be sure.
Charles laughed. “Soon, I’ll be drunk on you.” His hand lifted and his fingers slid down her throat.
The clenching in her stomach got worse, and her chill bumps were back. “Get your hand off me.”
His mouth opened—and, oh, dammit, there was something wrong with his teeth. Not wrong, just—they were way too sharp. His canines were wicked long and pointed and—
“Get away from me!” Lark yelled.
His mouth shoved toward her throat. She felt his teeth sink into her skin. He was biting her. Her blind date from hell was biting her out on that balcony, and he’d been right. No one could hear her scream.
And if they couldn’t hear her scream…
They damn sure won’t hear this jerk scream, either.
Her right hand flew out of her jacket pocket, and she brought up her weapon. Always be prepared. Her mother’s motto. And the Girl Scout motto—she’d been one of those as a kid.
Charles the Bastard was biting her, and Lark wrenched up her fail-safe. Her fingers were tight around the narrow, wooden stake as she shoved it right toward his chest. It sank deep, plunging past skin and bone and heading for his heart.
“Ow! What the hell?” Charles stumbled back.
Lark drove the stake in harder. Deeper. Had she made it to his heart yet? Lark hadn’t needed to do an attack like this in years, and she was seriously rusty.
“You bitch!” Blood dripped from his mouth. Probably her blood.
Lark’s left hand rose to her throat and swiped at the blood there.
His fingers rose and curled around the stake. Charles heaved, trying to pull it out. Crap, she’d definitely missed his heart. Otherwise, he’d be dead by now. But while he was busy trying to remove her stake, Lark rushed by him, desperate for escape.
“Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere! I got to you first. You’re mine!” His fingers latched onto her arm.
She whirled back toward him and shoved into him with all of her might.
The balcony’s floor was icy, and when Lark rammed into him, Charles slipped back.
He staggered and hit the balcony railing.
So she hit him again—and Charles the vampire toppled right over the railing.
They were only on the second floor, a fall that wouldn’t kill a vamp, but it would sure as hell buy her some much needed time.
His hand ripped part of her jacket away as he plummeted over the edge. He bellowed her name and then—
Smack.
Lark was looking down. She saw him hit the pavement. And her eyes squeezed closed. Oh, man, that had been brutal. Her breath heaved in and out. In and out.
A vampire. In Chicago. She’d thought she was safe.
She’d thought that she’d put that nightmare behind her.
Everything should have been fine. She’d been content to live a normal life.
Sure, she still carried a stake or two with her wherever she went, but Lark had thought that she was beyond the paranormal madness now.
Her mother was dead. All of her family long gone.
Lark had been surviving just fine on her own. And now…this.
Her eyes opened as she peered down below.
The vamp was gone. Only a big, dark spot remained where he’d been. A pool of blood? He was already up and…no doubt, hunting again.
She needed to get out of there, ASAP.
Her mother would’ve said that she needed to get her ass after the vamp.
That she needed to finish what she’d started, but…
Lark’s fingers touched her throbbing neck.
I want to go home. She wanted to lock all of her doors and hide.
Lark backed away from the balcony. Turned and ran back into the party.
Voices were rising and falling and too much laughter filled the air.
“It’s almost time for the countdown!” The DJ blasted a beat of music after his announcement. “Grab your sweetheart and pull her close. You don’t want to miss the midnight kiss!”
Yes, she wanted to miss it. She wanted to miss every single thing about this night.
Lark pushed her way to the door and made it out of the condo and into the stairwell.
Her heels raced over the stairs as she fled.
She’d get to the street. Grab a cab. Go back to her tiny apartment and forget that she’d had a run-in with a vamp.
Just as she’d tried to forget the other times that monsters had made her life an absolute living hell.
Other humans got to pretend that the world was normal. She wanted the same luxury.
She pushed open the door on the first floor and rushed into the cold night. Lark glanced to the left and to the right, and she didn’t see any sign of Charles. The vamp should have run—if he was smart, that was exactly what he would have done.
A taxi waited a few feet away. She lifted her hand as she hurried toward—
“You’re not leaving me.”
Oh, hell. That was Charles. Obviously, he had not been smart. Now she was going to have to kill his undead ass.
Before she could reach the taxi, he lunged out and—
Charles didn’t touch her. Because, suddenly—as fast as she could blink—someone else was there. A tall, dark, and ever-so-built guy in a long, black coat. He’d put his body in front of Lark’s, blocking Charles from reaching her.
“Get the fuck back,” Mr. Mysterious snarled at Charles.
She should warn the fellow that he was facing off with a vampire. That he was in some serious freaking danger.
“She’s mine!” Charles yelled. “I tasted her, I—”
“You dared?” This deep, dangerous rumble came from her mystery guy. In the next breath, he’d locked one hand around Charles’s neck and lifted him up, holding him easily as Charles kicked out and tried to punch at her rescuer.
Lark took a step back. A normal man wouldn’t just pick up a vamp with one hand and hold him like he was a rag doll. No way, a normal guy could not do that.
“What is happening to my night?” Lark whispered.
Then, because she did not want to deal with any of this—and because her sense of self-preservation was strong—Lark turned and fled.
As fast as she could go. The heels she wore slowed her down, so she just kicked them off.
The taxi at the corner had pulled away, but there was another cab waiting up the street.
She could get to that vehicle. Get inside. Haul ass away and—
“I’m here to help you.”
Tall, dark and too strong was in front of her. He’d just moved way too fast as he cut off her escape. And he wasn’t even breathing hard.
His eyes were dark pools. His face seemed carved from granite. The guy was huge and handsome and incredibly scary.
His hands reached toward her.
“Don’t!” Lark yelled.
He stilled.
Her head turned, and she glanced over her shoulder. “Where is Charles? Where did he go?”
“He’s running. Fast and hard. But it will do him no good. I’ll find him, and I’ll kill him. He doesn’t get to taste what’s mine.”
Oh, no. She gulped. “This needs to be a nightmare.” She focused on him again. A shiver slid over her. He was way too wicked hot and dangerously scary.
“It’s not a nightmare.” One dark brow rose as his gaze swept over her. When he focused on her neck, his eyes narrowed. He leaned closer and his lips parted—