“I’m… well… sure.”
“That’s what I thought, too. Now, with all these pesky reports of dead bodies around...it isn’t safe for a Nightwalker to be himself anymore. Such a shame the Ants don’t understand that sometimes a sip just… just isn’t enough. We’re vampires.” He scoffed. “The Claws Clause is a joke. We need to feed.”
Shea swallowed roughly.
As if the way he undressed her with his eyes wasn’t bad enough, now she had a sinking suspicion that she knew exactly what Julian was tiptoeing around.
If she was right? She was in deep, deep shit.
Just the other morning, Evangeline called her at the apothecary, warning her that the pack was on the hunt for an unknown Nightwalker that had gone rogue in the area. Even worse, the vamp killer wasn’t picky; Paras and humans, it didn’t matter. And since Evangeline was worried that Colton would keep the news about the danger away from Shea in a hard-headed attempt to shield her, she wanted to keep her in the loop.
Shea tried not to let the fact that Colton hadn’t called sting. She got it. Evangeline made it very clear that this was pack business. Mated to Maddox, she was considered pack even if she was a human.
Not Shea. No matter how she wished differently, Colton wasn’t her bonded mate.
If it wasn’t for that call, she would’ve been blissfully unaware that the Nightwalkers were draining victims. She hadn’t caught a single news report, no whisper of a threat among her Para and human customers. She’d almost convinced herself that the overprotective Maddox had somehow jumped to conclusions and it had spread to the level-headed Evangeline.
Nope. One look at the content smirk on Julian’s alabaster face and she knew better.
His people… plural. Well, that would explain why the shifters were having such a hard time tracking down the murderous vamp, wouldn’t it? Because it wasn’t just one.
A clan of Nightwalkers, led by this blonde vampire, was finishing off their donors and celebrating down at Bloodlust while the fully drained bodies coole
d. She was almost sure of it.
And now she was trapped in a room with three of them—including the one who lounged on a throne and said my people.
Working hard to keep her expression neutral, she dared a peek over at Hudson.
She watched as her brother twitched and shifted from foot to foot, inching toward Julian as if he couldn’t help himself.
Ah, shit.
He knew, too, didn’t he? Knew and didn’t care in the slightest so long as he got his fix.
Her blood ran cold.
Was this the real reason why she was here?
Goddess, if Hudson got her all dressed up and dragged her to this club just so that she could be vampire chow, she was going to curse him with her backwards magic before Julian could even move from his throne.
That’s when, as if he was almost testing her, the Nightwalker did.
Pulling himself up from his posed slouch, he stood on the edge of the dais, his hand lowering to his crotch. Shea’s heart started pounding double-time as he palmed himself, drawing her attention right there.
She paled.
Oh, hell no.
And, okay, she might be innocent. She might still be waiting for all of her firsts—first kiss, first loving touch, first time with a man—but she wasn’t that innocent. She was a healer, had been since she was little, and she’d dealt with all kinds of bodies over the years. Sometimes the client had to strip for the healing to take. She was definitely familiar with a guy’s junk.
As Julian cupped his obvious erection, running a finger along the bulge pushing against his tight pants, she suddenly realized that his fangs weren’t the only parts of him that he wanted to get inside of her.
But why?
What were the odds that she could outrun this Nightwalker? Even on her best day, a vamp would always beat a witch. Throw in the satin dress and the stilettos…
Shea was screwed. And, her stomach twisting as fear made her motionless, she only hoped that she didn’t mean that literally.