Claiming the Vampire (2 page)

At least until he’d quit the business ten years ago.

Hawk’s muscles protested the cramped position he’d been holding ever since the Fae girl had come out here, but he remained as motionless as stone. It might have been a decade since he’d been in such a hostile environment but neither his mind nor his body had forgotten discipline.

The girl was coming back from the target again, gripping her long white ball gown in one hand so the voluminous skirt wouldn’t trip her up. The material looked like something out of a human fairy tale—delicate and diaphanous, and scattered with white jewels like a thousand tiny stars—but the girl held it out of her way like it was nothing more than an encumbrance to her.

Once back in her place, she let the skirt drop, not caring that it was trailing in the dust. Then she took the proper archer’s stance and raised her weapon.

God, she was fast. She let fly and nocked a new arrow and let fly again in seconds. In less than a minute her quiver was empty, except for one last arrow.

She stood still for a moment, staring at the target in the silvery light of the moon and the ambient light from the windows of the mansion behind her. From his vantage point, Hawk had a perfect view of her.

Her body was lithe and strong and graceful, and the gown she wore, while hiding her lower body, did little to conceal her torso. The bodice wasn’t more than a swath of white material, barely covering her small, perfect breasts and leaving her arms and shoulders bare.

Her neck was bare as well. Her silvery blonde hair was piled on her head in an elaborate arrangement, making it almost impossible for a man not to wonder what it would look like spilling down her back.

But Hawk didn’t have to wonder. Her hair had been loose the first time he’d seen her.

He wasn’t likely to forget that night anytime soon. It marked the first time in a hundred years he’d failed to bring down a target.

The target in question had been another Fae girl, one Celia Albright. In all his years as a hired killer he’d only gone after other vampires, and never a female. But the person who’d hired him had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, one with the power to bring him out of retirement and make him break his own rules.

He’d regretted the necessity that had forced him to go after an innocent, but he had amassed plenty of regrets in his century and a half of existence. He’d learn to live with this one, too.

Except that he hadn’t had the chance.

What should have been a simple hit had turned into a comedy of errors. Celia was under the protection of Evan Grant, a vampire he’d known in London before Evan had moved here to Boston. Evan had gotten between him and Celia, after taking an arrow for her—an arrow shot by the girl Hawk was watching now.

The blonde Fae had been trying to capture, not kill…and her unexpected presence that night had thrown a wrench into the works. Hawk had been closing in on Celia when the arrow was shot, changing the game completely.

The person who’d hired him hadn’t mentioned there might be another pawn on the field of play—and considering who that person was, they should have.

He’d taken pains to find out the identity of the coldly beautiful archer after their encounter, and to say he’d been surprised to learn that she was Queen Talia’s daughter would be an understatement.

Because it was Queen Talia herself who’d ordered the hit on Celia, using the only leverage that could have forced him out of retirement.

When he’d asked Talia why the hell she’d sent her daughter out to capture a target she’d hired him to kill, the queen had told him that it was the Fae council, not her, who’d sent Jessica out. Her contract with Hawk was a ‘private’ matter.

So none of the Fae, including her own daughter, had any idea what Talia had done.

He’d suggested a deal to Talia—Celia’s life in exchange for her promise to abandon her self-imposed mission of convincing the Fae to destroy their sacred absinthe. Talia had agreed with certain stipulations, but it had become moot. A day after he’d offered the deal to Evan and Celia, he’d received a message from the Fae queen. She called off the job completely without telling him why.

And without making any mention of his payment.

Maybe the Fae queen thought it would be that easy. That she could call him off like you called off a dog. But he was going to find out exactly what kind of double game Talia was playing—and make it crystal clear that canceling the hit didn’t get her out of her end of the bargain.

He would be paid in full.

He figured gate crashing her party would be a nice way to get his point across. He’d paid a small fortune for the warding charm he wore around his neck right now, that had allowed him to slip past the detection and defense spells woven into the very stones of the queen’s mansion.

Taking on the queen’s guards would have been another matter, but then that wasn’t his intention. His plan was simply to speak with Talia. To make it clear he was not a man to be fucked with. That he could get into her home anytime he wanted to—that he could get to her, too.

And that the price for getting him out of her life was the price she’d set for killing Celia.

Now his enhanced hearing picked up sounds from inside the mansion, including musicians tuning their instruments in what sounded like a high-ceilinged ballroom. Jessica was no doubt expected at the ball that was soon to begin. She was certainly dressed for it.

He found himself oddly mesmerized as he watched her. Not merely because she was beautiful, but because he could sense emotion simmering beneath her cool demeanor. The very air around her seemed to reverberate with tension.

He wondered what that emotion was, and what she was thinking as she stopped shooting, setting her bow down beside her and holding her last arrow in her hands, running her finger softly over the tip.

Her hand closed over the arrowhead and he heard her hiss in pain just as he caught the unmistakable scent of blood.

His nostrils flared and his incisors burst from his gums.

He gripped the branch above him until the rough bark cut into his palm. His muscles trembled as he fought to control the unexpected bloodlust.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was no fledgling vampire, ruled by thirst or any other appetite. He’d learned the lessons of self-control in a harsh school, and he would not forget those lessons now.

It was only a bit of blood, for Christ’s sake.

He could see the droplet now. Jessica was staring down at her hand, at the small crimson stain on her pale flesh. She seemed as fascinated by the sight as he was.

Slowly, slowly, he brought himself under control. His fangs retracted as he took a deep, unneeded breath.

It had been a long time since he’d felt bloodlust that strong. He felt a wave of resentment against the Fae girl for provoking it, unfair and illogical as that reaction might be.

Why the hell was she out here, anyway? She should be in front of the mirror like any girl before a party, fussing with her hair and makeup and all that crap.

Jessica turned away from the target, towards him, and he saw her face clearly for the first time. And the look in her eyes was one he’d seen before.

It was a look that froze him into utter stillness.

Hawk had learned years ago how to drink without killing. And he’d never had trouble finding humans who craved the sensual explosion of a vampire’s bite, those who gave their blood willingly, knowing he wouldn’t take their lives.

But every so often a human had come to him wanting a different kind of gift. Wanting him to go further—beyond the point of no return.

They’d come to him seeking death. Desiring death.

That was the desire he saw in Jessica Greenwood’s eyes before she closed them, lifting her chin and raising the arrow towards her throat.

It was none of his business. If the Fae girl wanted to kill herself, the only factor that should concern him was how that act might affect his own objectives.

But the second the arrow grazed her throat, he moved.

Chapter Two

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Jessica’s eyes flew open, and she found herself staring at a stranger. A stranger who jerked the arrow from her hand before grabbing her by the shoulders and glaring at her.

His eyes were black as jet, his features rough-hewn. His hair was black, too, and long enough to fall across his forehead.

He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life.

And he was a vampire. His fangs weren’t showing and his eyes weren’t demon yellow, but a Fae could sense a vampire even when he looked human.

She should have registered him as a threat. Her warrior reflexes should have kicked in the second she knew what he was. She should be fighting him right now, grabbing the arrow he’d tossed aside and stabbing it through his heart.

But she felt no rage, no battle lust, no warrior instincts at all.

What she felt was a relief so intense it was close to joy.

She had longed for death, and death had come.

“Do it now,” she whispered.

She was trembling, but not from fear. Elation raced through her, and she almost laughed out loud. Her heart pounded, and she was intensely conscious of the blood in her veins, the breath in her lungs. It seemed fitting that in her last moments she should feel so intensely alive.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, exposing her throat.

But instead of the slice of fangs in her neck, she felt a stinging slap on her cheek.

Her eyes flew open again as the vampire shook her roughly. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you drunk? Or have you lost your mind?”

Her mind couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. “What?”

“Or maybe you’re just profoundly stupid.”

He was glaring at her again, and she stared back at him.

Slowly, her mind registered everything that had happened in the last few moments.

“You’re not here to kill me?”

“Jesus. No. I don’t participate in assisted suicides.”

If he truly were Death personified, he wouldn’t talk like this. Would he? And he wouldn’t look like this, either. His black eyes were snapping with temper, his jaw muscles twitching. He was furious with her.

Maybe she
was
stupid. Because for the life of her, she couldn’t understand what was going on.

“What’s happening?” she whispered.

He slapped her again. When he raised his hand to slap her a third time, her instincts finally kicked in.

She grabbed his wrist before the blow could fall.

“What are you doing? Who are you?”

His black eyes glittered, like onyx. “Who do you think I am? You spoke to me like you knew me.”

“I thought…” she swallowed, and then went ahead and finished. “I thought you were Death. My death.”

His eyes turned opaque. “Why did you think that?”

Maybe he’d cast some kind of spell on her…a spell that made her answer truthfully.

“Because you’re so beautiful. And…familiar.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “Thank you for the compliment. But I don’t look familiar because I’m the grim reaper, you silly girl. I look familiar because we’ve met before.”

The only vampires she’d ever met (without killing them, anyway) were Jack Morgan and Evan Grant. What could he be talking about?

And then it came back to her.

That night in the alley. The night the Fae council had sent Jessica out to capture Celia and bring her back for questioning. She’d tried to do so, but Evan had gotten in her way.

Of course that was before she’d gone into the absinthe trance with Celia, and learned that the spellcaster had been right about everything. Since that revelation, she and Liz and Celia had become…well, friends might be too strong a word. But they were allies. And she’d accepted Jack and Evan as allies, too.

But that night, they’d all been potential enemies. And this vampire had been there. Wearing the same sardonic smile he was wearing right now, and calmly smoking a cigarette as Evan had wrestled her to the ground, ensuring Celia’s escape.

He was an assassin, she remembered. Someone had hired him to kill Celia.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stirred, although there was no wind.

“Hawk,” she said, recalling the name Evan had called him by. She took two steps back and bent her knees slightly, ready to spring.

He raised one eyebrow. “How nice that you’ve remembered my name. But it’s a little late for caution, don’t you think? If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already. And, anyway, I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Her hands clenched into fists. She had wanted that, hadn’t she? There was no use in denying it. She’d told herself she would never take her own life, and then she’d offered it up to this stranger, fantasizing that he was the angel of death.

It had been a moment’s madness, but she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. She’d shamed herself and shamed her clan.

But she could make up for it now.

“If you’ve come for Celia, you’ll have to go through me.”

“Yeah, and wouldn’t that be a challenge. A Fae girl with a death wish? I’m shaking in my boots. But you can make your mind easy about the redhead. That job’s been called off.”

“Why are you here, then? You’re on the queen’s grounds without leave, and that means death.”

He smiled again. “Threatening me after I saved your life? Seems a bit ungrateful.”

“You didn’t save my life.”

“Didn’t I? My mistake. Then you weren’t about to cut your throat with this?” He rested the toe of his boot against her arrow before kicking it away.

Her face flamed. “No.”

His eyes narrowed. “At first you were just toying with idea. Fantasizing. But then you seemed to float outside your own body, as though you were two people. And you watched yourself lift that arrow towards your throat, as though it was someone else’s hand. And that illusion would have carried you through. Up until you breathed your last, it would be as though someone else had done the deed.”

She couldn’t say a word. Her eyes dropped, and she looked down at the arrow that he had kicked away.