IM02 - Hunters & Prey (4 page)

“Good evening, Alyssa.”

I looked over to see the smiling and sleepy face of Rozaline, Nicholas’s mate. Her long brunette hair hung down, framing her milky white face. She wore a pair of pink flannel pajama pants that draped over her toes and a simple white camisole top. As usual, a variety of crystal point pendants hung from her neck on silver chains.

“I’m surprised to see you out here. Has Nicholas roped you into watching the local news now too?” she asked.

“No.” I giggled. I wasn’t the only one who picked on him for his obsession with the news. “I was already watching when he came out here.”

“Alyssa has some suspicions about Santino,” Nicholas added, his eyes still firmly locked on the television screen.

“Really? Santino?” Rozaline walked gracefully to the loveseat. Her necklaces clinked softly against one another as she moved. “What makes you worry about him, Alyssa?” She took a seat next to Nicholas and gave him a sweet peck on his cheek.

How does a nice woman like Rozaline fall in love with a rude and obnoxious man like Nicholas?

Nicholas shot me a mocking smile. No doubt he had heard that thought. He placed his hand on her knee, giving it a small squeeze.

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to Rozaline.

“I’ve been having a recurring daymare, only it isn’t just a bad dream. I think it’s a warning. Nicholas and I were talking and we agree it’s possible Santino’s still out there, and there may be more Saints.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Rozaline said, holding up her hand. “If there is a chance that Santino is still out there, then there really is only one option.”

“What?” I asked.

“We leave town for a while.”

She’s got a point there.

Rozaline continued, “You know we of the Peregrinus clan are travelers. We never planned to make Las Vegas a permanent home. Perhaps the timing is right to move on. Santino is too cunning a hunter, and I do not wish to fight him again. We will take you and Lysander with us.”

“You’ll have to get him to agree to that,” I said with a small sigh. “He’s not exactly of the same mentality. He thinks I’m worried for nothing.”

“Lysander is not a stupid man,” Rozaline said. “He will listen to reason. When the rest of the house is awake, we will discuss the options and come to an agreement on what to do. For now, just relax.”

Rozaline leaned her head into Nicholas’s chest, yawning. Her sharp fangs glinted in the lamplight as her mouth opened wide. At times it seemed odd to me that she was a vampire. She looked so young, no more than twenty; it was strange to think she was over seven hundred, and her mate, Nicholas, like Lysander, was well beyond two thousand.

“Nicholas dear,” she cooed. “Can we please find something other than news to watch this evening?”

I stifled a snicker. Rozaline winked at me.

“Alyssa has the remote,” he sighed.

“Here, watch whatever you want,” I said, tossing the remote to her. I laid myself out across the couch while Rozaline flipped through the channels.

Will it be that easy to convince Lysander to leave? Will he willingly go? I hope this meeting goes well tonight.

Patience was never a virtue of mine, and waiting for the clan to come together for a meeting was unnerving.

I wanted Lysander to take my worry more seriously, and I needed the clan’s support. I knew Lysander was not oblivious to the possible dangers out there, but he seemed to value the opinion of the other ancient vampires.

Nicholas and Rozaline lay cuddled together on the loveseat, watching TV sitcoms.

My eyes kept darting from the TV to the clock and back. It was past eight and Lysander had still not awoken for the evening.

I can’t sit here cooped up all night.

“We should go eat soon,” Rozaline said, looking back at me.

“Why go out, when you could just order in?” Nicholas taunted. “Pizza delivery boy sounds good.”

“Nicholas!” Rozaline playfully slapped his arm.

“What? Too much fat? You watching that girlish figure?” he teased, tickling Rozaline’s side.

She bucked and giggled as she slapped away his hands. “Nicholas, what has gotten into you?”

“Get a room you two,” I laughed.

Even though I couldn’t understand how anyone would be attracted to Nicholas, it comforted me to think that a couple could last so long and still seem so much in love.

Rozaline was right about one thing. It was time to feed. The small pangs of hunger reminded me that it had been more than a day since my last hunt.

I would need blood very soon. Unlike the elder vampires, my need for blood had to be sated frequently. I could manage a day or two without it, but not any longer. Animals could hold me over, but in a city, the only animals I would find would be stray dogs and cats, and I refused to harm an innocent little creature like that. I needed something much larger. Thankfully in the city of sin, criminals, my regular prey, were quite accessible.

“I’ll leave you two to yourselves. Tell Lysander I’ll return later for the meeting. I’m going to hunt. I’ll stick close to home just to be safe tonight.”

Rozaline and Nicholas barely noticed me getting up. They were too busy with each other on the couch.

CHAPTER 3

*****

I
stepped out into the fresh night air and sucked in a deep breath. Dry asphalt, sweet lemon trees, and the heady perfume of roses enticed me. I loved the outdoors, especially after being trapped inside all day.

Small twinkling stars glittered in an endless navy blue sky. The moon glowed clear and bright, bathing the neighborhood in its soft silvery light. It was a perfect evening.

For safety’s sake, I decided to stay closer to home and hunt on foot, rather than taking Lysander’s Jeep all the way into the city. Anxiety over our upcoming meeting kept me on edge. I wondered if Lysander would submit to the idea of leaving town for a while. If Santino was truly back, that would certainly be a good reason to take off and allow Lysander to pick up his old memoirs. We’d known about them for months and still he had not planned our trip to Boston to retrieve them. It seemed the perfect solution and timing on all accounts. I knew the clan would have some influence on him, though the extent of that influence wasn’t yet clear.

I wandered down the sidewalk, contemplating what traveling would be like with the Peregrinus, in their big R.V. It would be a far cry from our current lifestyle, that was for sure. Our home was in a nice middle-class suburban neighborhood filled with one- and two-story homes.

Suburbs were quiet—not my first choice for a hunting ground—but there were still criminal elements to be found … if you knew where to look.

I glanced down, surveying my clothing: a pair of sandals, tight-fitting low-rise jeans, and a red spaghetti strap tank top. I adjusted my breasts under my shirt, wishing I had worn a better bra.

It’s so much easier to attract the wrong type when your breasts look full and perky.

I giggled to myself and shook my hips, watching the turquoise jewel in my silver navel ring glint in the moonlight. My tank top ended just above the ring, allowing for a nice view of my lean midriff.

Rapists were easy targets. Flash a little skin, and they were all over you. They just loved innocent looking women walking alone at night. I should know. It was partially the reason I became a vampire.

Months had passed since that brutal attack, but the memory still caused a shiver to dance down my spine. I had been so weak, so helpless, and the two brutes that had attacked me enjoyed every minute of my suffering.

I wasn’t weak anymore, thanks to Lysander’s healing kiss. It was he who had taught me to hunt down criminals, partly as a vendetta and partly as a survival mechanism. After all, I had to drink blood; who better to take it from than those who had caused me to become a vampire in the first place?

Of course, I wouldn’t dare hunt directly in the neighborhood of my home. Lysander forbade it because it might draw too much attention to myself and the rest of the clan. Our ability to blend in with normal people was the key to remaining a secret. It was the reason we lived right in the middle of a sprawling suburban neighborhood. We were well hidden in plain sight because we never gave anyone a reason to pay attention to us. One of the benefits of living in a city with a thriving nightlife is that no one questions neighbors who only come out at night.

My hunting experiences were still limited; however, I did know of a few areas in this quiet suburb that might offer some game.

I sucked in a deep breath and filled my lungs again with fresh air. I’d always loved the night, even before becoming a vampire. There was something calm and tranquil about the evening. Perhaps it was the cooling of the heat of the day, or maybe it was just the fact that night had always been my free time. No work or school to worry about, just time to relax. Whatever the reason, it seemed that now, as a vampire, the soothing effect had become more pronounced. The night welcomed me with open arms.

A faint hint of musk floated in the breeze.

Probably a stray dog. Humans have a sweeter smell, but it might be worth a look
.

The scent, though weak, called out to me. My thoughts turned to blood as my mouth watered in anticipation. All it took was the faintest hint to draw my cravings out. Blood was a necessity—and so much more. Like alcohol to an addict, it was my vice—hard to resist. Even when satiated, the smells still enticed, begging me to take a second helping.

I wouldn’t allow myself to make another mistake though. One had been more than enough. The crushing guilt was enough to make me want to seek my own end. Time had not erased that horrible memory from my mind. One weak moment, giving in to my desires, had ended with the death of an innocent man whose only crime had been his attraction to me.

I’d worked hard in the last few months, learning to tame the beast within … not an easy task.

Walking briskly down the street, I looked for the way out to the main road. Cookie-cutter houses of white stucco and pink Spanish tile roofs lined the street—a typical Vegas suburban housing development. The only differences were the variations of desert landscape in each front yard.

As I drew closer to the musky smell, my mouth watered. I absently licked at my fangs, until I spotted the thing it belonged to.

A skinny blur of dark, matted fur raced across the street.

Just a dog.

I sighed and continued on my path, rounding a corner. Finally, I found the outlet to the main road. Cars zoomed past, but no people were out walking on the street. I knew somewhere ahead would be a bike path that led down Pittman Wash, a small overflow creek bed. The news had recently run reports of gangs and vandalism down there, under the Pecos Street Bridge. If I could get someone alone down there, no one would see or suspect anything.

Other than the cars on the street, the main road was surprisingly quiet for this early hour of the evening. I headed down the street toward the bike path, wondering why no one was out riding bikes or taking a stroll. The scorching heat of the desert sun, during the day, usually kept more than just vampires at bay, but the cool of the evening hours normally drew them out.

I reached the mouth of the path that would lead me down into the wash. Closing my eyes, I sniffed at the air. A warm, sugary smell wafted up from under the bridge.

Perfect.
I rubbed my hands in anticipation.

Someone was down there. From the strength of the smell wafting up to my nose I guessed there was at least one close by, but maybe more.

Closing my eyes, I centered myself, quieting my mind to sense if there were any other presence. This was not a place I normally visited, and I did not want to run into another vampire.

One more deep breath of the sweet smell, and my legs started moving of their own accord. I stepped onto the path, walking slowly, careful not to let myself be seen.

A man’s voice, deep and husky, echoed under the bridge. There was another, too, but it sounded faint and distorted. It had an almost mechanical quality to it.

Odd, it doesn’t sound like there are two people here. Where is the other voice coming from?

Not wanting to be seen yet, I kept to the side of the bridge as I closed in.

A short man came into view, though most of his face was hidden in the shadows. I stood, silently observing him as he paced the underside of the bridge, listening for any clue that would mark him as suitable prey. He was dressed in a white wife-beater tank top and khaki pants, sagging so low his boxer shots were visible. The cuffs of his pants dragged on the ground, making a soft scraping sound as he traipsed back under the bridge. I spotted a small black cell phone held to his ear.

Ahh that’s where the second voice is coming from.

He spoke in a high-pitched, excited tone. His free hand waved a gun in the air, punctuating his words. An enchanting aroma, like sweet and tart lemon drops, hit me in waves as he meandered back and forth under the bridge. It leeched out of his pores. Anxiety and anticipation always sweetened the scent, but I could tell his was fueled more with the tangy hint of adrenaline. It had an enticing potency to it—stronger and richer. It took all my control not to rush in and take him.