Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
KNEAD-TO-KNOW
Idon’t have to wait long. Stark steps out the front door and I reach up to graze the zoom rune behind my ear.
A fizzing current jumps through my nerves and the world snaps into focus—streetlights bleeding out, every blade of grass and crack in the concrete coming up sharp and bright in neon-edged night vision.
I take a step to follow him but stop short.
Is he… flustered?
That’s new.
The ancient bastard is running his hands through his hair, pacing and muttering. The perfect composure is gone. A crack in the armor. My pulse quickens—this is the kind of break I live for.
I touch behind my other ear to activate my enhanced hearing.
“...ridiculous...”
Stark drags a hand through his hair.
“...absolutely ridiculous.”
I frown.
The ancient bastard is pacing.
Pacing.
I’ve never seen him pace before.
“...should’ve strangled him...”
A pause.
“...fucking flowers and freckles...”
What the fuck?
Ah. It’s the dark-haired beauty, Kallie—as her human boy toy called her—who’s putting the big bad monster’s panties in a twist.
I snort but catch myself. I want to follow Stark tonight and making myself heard is not the way to get shit done.
Touching my mark on my left forearm, I activate my glamour. Except the purple shimmer and tingle that should follow don’t happen.
What the fuck?
I rip up the sleeve of my jacket. My breath catches. The skin is blank—smooth, empty flesh where the glamour rune should be. A cold void opens in my gut, as if I’ve lost a limb.
What in the actual fuck?
Where did my glamour rune go?
I tear up my other sleeve, heart hammering against my ribs. They’re all there—the intricate black lines mapping years of pain and dedication. Each one earned, each one a part of me. They’re etched into my very soul. They don’t just disappear. The violation of it makes my stomach clench.
Shit. Without the ability to glamour and conceal myself, I’ll have to do things the old-fashioned way.
My distraction was only for a second, but it’s enough for Stark to disappear out of sight.
Right as my fingers are about to activate the mark on my right hip for extra speed, I pause, lifting my black shirt to make sure it’s still there.
Fuck. How can I trust my other marks? My own skin? A cold sweat breaks out on my neck. I need to contact the Guild, find out if anyone’s ever heard of this. If a rune can just… vanish.
But later. I have shit to do tonight.
When I touch the arrow-shaped mark on my hip and the familiar feeling spreads to my limbs, I sigh in relief.
I use a little extra oomph to find Stark, but stop in my tracks when I round the corner and see him bend down to grab something from the ground.
Something mewls.
I blink.
The leech king of the city is holding a kitten.
What the hell is this leech's game? First the brunette rattles his composure, and now he’s cradling a stray.
Predators don’t get sentimental; they get unpredictable. And an unpredictable vampire is a dangerous one.
My brain immediately decides this is somehow less concerning than my own damned fixation on the woman.
Which is bullshit.
I don’t think about women unless I’m actively fucking them.
I especially don’t think about women who keep wandering into vampire territory with the survival instincts of a concussed squirrel.
And yet.
Lavender eyes.
Freckles.
A mouth that seems permanently seconds away from saying something reckless.
Fuck.
This isn’t the time. Getting distracted is how hunters end up dead.
I don’t have time to ponder, however, because before I can blink I’m slammed into the brick wall so hard my breath rushes out in a grunt.
Instinct takes over. I use the residual speed from the rune to roll with the impact, coming up in a defensive crouch to face him.
I reach down to grab a dagger from my thigh sheath but a deep, dark voice stops me.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Stark stands there, a smirk plastered on his leech face like he has all the time in the world. But my instincts are screaming. The air crackles, my skin tightens, every nerve ending firing a single, primal warning: killer.
A tiny mewl catches my attention, and I notice he’s still holding the cat.
Not only did the fanged fucker catch me with my guard down, he did it while holding a fucking kitten.
Shit, Z. A vampire with a kitten. You got taken out by a vampire with a kitten.
“You really should stop following me, Hunter.”
My pulse skips.
I hadn’t heard him move.
Hadn’t seen him move.
Hell, one second he was halfway down the alley and the next I was eating brick.
“Excuse me?”
Stark sighs.
“It's becoming repetitive.”
“What’s the matter, Stark? Embarrassed I caught you with the fur ball? Afraid I might think you’ve gone soft?”
Stark glances down at the kitten.
“No.”
That's it.
Just no.
Somehow it's more insulting than if he'd threatened me.
I wasn’t planning on showing my cards yet, but since he has me cornered, I might as well see what I can shake loose.
But my words have the opposite effect. His smirk is back, although it’s more malicious than amused.
“Careful, Hunter. Word is your kind has been dropping like flies lately—and I’d hate to see you go up in smoke.”
Fuck. His words are a lit match on dry tinder. Heat flashes behind my eyes—the same helpless, burning rage from the night my brother died. This bastard knows. He was there, or he knows who was. I fucking knew it.
My jaw tightens until my back teeth ache.
Fuck this guy.
“Now, I ask again, why are you following me? You made quite a mess in my shop the other day. But you got me out of a rather precarious situation, so I’ll let you off the hook this time.
But my patience is running thin, Hunter, and I rarely repeat myself.
Don’t make me do it again. Answer the fucking question. ”
He ends his statement on a growl, which in turn automatically activates my shield marks. The kitten in his arms lets out a tiny, spitting hiss, a sound so absurdly fierce it almost breaks my focus, a ridiculous exclamation point on a deadly sentence.
The raw anger from a second ago just… deflates. The absurdity of it all—the vampire, the hissing kitten, the standoff—is a bucket of ice water on my fury.
What is even happening here?
Damn it.
Once again, fuck this guy.
“You mean I stopped you from having to explain an attack on two humans on your turf, then saved your ass from Angelo’s mess. You’re welcome. Now, you’re going to answer some of my questions, and we’ll call it even.”
Stark studies me for a long moment.
Then he smiles.
The kind of smile a shark might wear before biting something.
“Ask.”
Ice floods my veins.
Predators don’t expose their throats.
They bait traps.
This is it.
This is it. The end of all the dead-end trails and chased rumors. The answer to what happened to my brother is standing right in front of me, and for a second, all I can hear is the blood roaring in my ears.
Stark waits, patient and amused, like he already knows exactly what I’m going to ask.
I don’t hesitate.
“How do you know the brunette?”
Wait. What the fuck?
Of all the things to ask…that’s what comes out?
Stark goes completely still.
The air in the alley changes.
The amusement disappears from his face.
The kitten squirms in his arms, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
And for the first time since this conversation started...
Stark truly looks dangerous.