Chapter One #2
“You’ve got fangs.” Two vampires in one night? Why? Why? Did the world just hate her? Was Fate pissed off?
His tongue slid over the tip of one fang. “Sorry. It’s a…primitive response to blood. Totally instinctive.”
Like she didn’t know that? Vampire 101. She was no amateur. But she was already reaching for her second stake. Another warning from her mom…Always carry a back-up.
Not that carrying a back-up had helped her mother, not in the end.
But the big vamp didn’t lunge at her. And she didn’t have to shove a stake at him.
Instead, he straightened to his very formidable height. Had to be close to six-foot-three and the guy was solid. A muscled wall. He inclined his dark head toward her. “My name is Devereaux Mancini.” A pause while he waited for her to respond.
She backed up a step. Two.
His lips thinned. “Prince Devereaux Mancini.”
No, absolutely not. She could not be staring at the guy who was the leader of the freaking North American vampire kingdom. Yes, she knew his name. Mostly because it had been whispered in fear back when she’d been a kid. Why the hell was he standing in front of her?
He smiled. “You know me?”
It wasn’t a good thing that she knew him. “Stay the hell away from me.”
His smile dimmed. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
A long, black limo slowly pulled down the road.
“That’s our ride,” Devereaux murmured. “You’re chilled. Let me get you out of this cold air and to safety.”
“Safety?” Lark laughed. “Like it’s safe to get into a car with a vamp?”
His gaze was on her throat. “They will all be coming.” He took a step toward her. “I’m here to offer you protection. Choose me, and I can save you from the others.”
“Who is coming?” Another shiver slid over her.
He cursed and shrugged out of his coat. A blink later, the coat was around her, and it seemed to carry a rich, masculine scent. His scent. And he was back to standing two feet away from her.
Her gaze sharpened on him. “You just gave me your coat.” Since when were vamps into the chivalry routine?
The limo braked. Exhaust blew from the rear of the vehicle.
“You’re cold. I don’t need the coat.” He wore a tux. Looked fancy and rich and all…handsome. Sexy.
For a bloodsucker.
He even had a hot little cleft in his chin.
“It’s not safe for you out here, Lark.”
Lark. He knew her name. That was like the tenth bad sign of the night.
Devereaux lifted his hand toward her. “Choose me,” he urged her, his voice all low and deep and rumbling, “and I’ll keep you safe forever.”
Sure. Forever being a key word. She backed up one more step. “Vamp magic and compulsions don’t work on me.” Her mother had seen to that.
“I’m not using a compulsion on you.” His head cocked to the side.
“I was trying logic. It’s late and cold, and you’re on your own.
There’s one hungry vamp already running in the streets, desperate for you.
Charles tasted your blood, so he’s just going to want more.
I would have killed him for you, but you ran away, and getting to you—making sure you stayed alive tonight—was a bigger priority for me. ”
She laughed. “Because a vampire prince cares about what happens to me?” To her…The daughter of a monster hunter. She wouldn’t believe that lie.
“I care very much about you.” Devereaux’s head turned, and he stared into the distance.
“They’re all coming. When midnight strikes, they know that you’ll be fair game.
That’s why you have to choose me before then.
It’s why Charles tried to force you to choose him.
I’m not like Charles. I’m giving you the option. ”
She was so confused, but if she had a choice… “I’m choosing to go home on my own, thanks so much.”
A growl broke from him. “You know how hard it is for a vamp to resist fresh blood, but I haven’t touched you…yet.”
“Do you know how hard it is…” Lark tossed right back, “for a monster hunter to resist the urge to plunge a stake into a vamp? But I haven’t touched you…yet.”
He laughed. Laughed. The dark sound was oddly sexy.
She was so messed up. Always had been, though.
Hadn’t her mother warned her, time and time again, that she had too much of a fascination for the beasts?
Hadn’t she been punished because she hadn’t been hard enough on them?
Because she hadn’t always gone straight for the kill?
But his laughter faded, and he seemed to stiffen. Devereaux sucked in a deep breath. His hands fisted at his sides. “Get in the limo, now.”
He was being way too bossy. Turn-off. “Seriously? Do I look like I have a death wish? There is no way I’m getting into that ride. My mom taught me long ago to never get in a car with a stranger. Especially a strange vamp. That’s asking for trouble.”
“I’m sure your mother taught you all kinds of things.”
Yes, she had.
“But I’m afraid she told you some lies, too.”
What? Lark’s eyes turned to furious slits. “Did you just insult my mother?”
His hands were still fisted. “I need you to choose me. Get in the car.”
Wow. Again, with the bossy bit. Did being arrogant go hand-in-hand with being a vamp prince?
He’d obviously confused her with one of his vamp subjects.
Unlike them, though, she didn’t give a damn about his orders.
“Since you make it sound so appealing…” Lark drawled.
Then she yanked out her back-up stake. “No. I’m not in the mood for a ride with you, and if you try to come near me, I’ll shove this guy into your heart. ”
His stare dropped to the stake. Lingered. “How many of those do you have on you?”
That was the last one.
“Guess some habits die hard, hmmm…hunter?” Devereaux murmured.
She wasn’t a hunter. That had been her mother’s thing. Lark just wanted to be normal. “Stay away from me. As a general rule, I don’t go out looking for vamps to stake.” She was no Buffy. “But tonight, the vamps sure seem to be looking for me.”
“The vamps aren’t the only ones who’ll be looking for you.” He rolled back his shoulders. “If you won’t get in the car, then at least…run.”
Come again? “What?”
He lunged toward her. “Run!”
Shit. She did. Lark turned and ran as fast as she could, and as she ran, she realized that her feet had gone absolutely ice cold. She wore tights, but that hardly helped with the bitter cold, and she couldn’t even feel the sidewalk beneath her feet as she fled.
A howl split the night. A long, desperate, pain-filled howl. Lark spun around and saw the vamp prince. Only he wasn’t alone. A giant, black beast of a dog had tackled him to the ground.
Oh, hell, that’s no dog.
The beast lifted its head. Its glowing, yellow eyes locked on her as saliva dripped from its mouth. A mouth that was exploding with razor-sharp teeth.
A werewolf. One that was fully shifted and running through a human city. Had the whole world gone mad? Why were the paranormals hunting so boldly?
The wolf flew off the vamp and rushed toward her.
Her wooden stake would do zero damage against him.
She needed silver, and, luckily, she was wearing silver earrings.
Not much of a weapon, but better than nothing.
Lark dropped the stake and grabbed for her earrings, ready to drive those babies straight into the werewolf’s eyes.
The pain would stop him long enough for her to plan another attack.
But Devereaux grabbed the wolf from behind. Caught him with that super vamp strength and there was a terrible crunch of bones. The wolf let out a whimper as Devereaux tossed the beast through a nearby window. Glass shattered. An alarm sounded.
Lark took her cue. She grabbed for her stake, held tight to her earrings, and she hauled ass.
She knew when she was in over her head, and she was way, way out of her league.
She rushed as fast as her frozen feet would carry her, and when she rounded the corner, the beat of music reached her ears.
Lark saw lights blazing from a bar up ahead.
Humans were filing in and out of the place.
Laughter teased her ears, and she remembered another lesson from her youth…
There’s always safety in numbers.
Paranormal creatures looked for humans alone. Stragglers who were weak. They never went after a crowd. She ran toward the bar and fought her way inside. The music pounded. The lights flashed. And she prayed that the vamp prince would stay the hell away from her.
So far, this New Year’s Eve…sucked.
***
Devereaux Mancini adjusted the sleeve of his tux. The damn wolf had gotten blood on him. What an annoyance. Now he’d have to have the tux dry cleaned.
“Sir?” His driver cleared his throat. “I believe your prey got away.”
Devereaux glanced over at the fellow.
The driver—pushing ninety but still as agile as a man half his age—pointed down the street. “She fled that way. I don’t think she was wearing shoes, so I imagine her feet are quite frozen by now.”
Devereaux growled.
“Will you be going after her? Or shall we call it a night?”
No, they weren’t calling it a freaking night. And, yes, of course, he was going after her. “Keep the limo running, Helsing. I’ll have her back in ten minutes.”
He bounded after—
“Midnight will fall in ten minutes, sir. Think you’ll be the one to claim her by then?”
If he didn’t know better, he’d think Helsing was taunting him. “Bet on it.” Because he hadn’t waited all of these centuries to find his queen…only to lose her in the final stretch of the race.
Lark Kinsley had been meant for him ever since she’d drawn her first breath. And he didn’t care how many werewolves, vamps, or demons he had to battle that night…
She was going to be his.