Stripped Bear (12 page)

But beyond that, he felt
alive
. Truly alive, as he had before he’d been made into a vampire. Before he’d made the decision to trade his soul for an existence as one of the untethered. If he didn’t find the source of that delicious scent, the sweet blood that entranced him like a siren’s song, he’d go mad.

Through the hordes of humans, he swathed a path with one long arm, brushing them aside as though they were nothing more than blades of grass and his arm a broadsword. The dhampirs watched with curious, yet fearful expressions, their irises reflecting silver in the low light, giving him a wide berth as they bowed their heads, afraid to meet his feral gaze. He had finally come alive this night and though his heart beat anew, it wasn’t the whore’s blood that had brought him from his soulless stupor. No, as Michael’s eyes lit on a female not twenty feet away, he knew without a doubt that it was her blood that called to him and her scent that had awakened him.

This female had tethered his soul and returned it to him.

As though she sensed him too, her eyes met his. She looked nothing like the overdone, overused, and utterly underwhelming human females that seemed to frequent these sorts of clubs. Rather, she stood out among them. A breath of fresh air in a stale environment.

Her lips curled into a flirtatious smile.

A sly, seductive expression that caused his cock to grow hard and the blood coursing through his veins to warm. She turned from him, winding a path through the VIP lounge toward the less populated area at the back of the club. Didn’t she realize that running only made him want to give chase? Or was that what she wanted, to be captured in a shadowy corner where no one would hear her moans of pleasure as he took her vein?

Michael’s step faltered. Of course, she couldn’t possibly know what he wanted from her, how her scent drove him to the frenzy that made his earlier thirst a mere annoyance in comparison. If she thought to find an exit in this part of the club, she was about to be disappointed. In a matter of moments, she’d be trapped and a thrill of excitement coursed through Michael’s veins at the prospect.

*   *   *

Claire found herself facing a black wall with
Diablo
painted in giant red script above her. She put her back to it, palms bracing her as though she’d made a fatal error.
Oops!
She had nowhere left to go. Rule of the hustle number four: let the mark think he’s running the show.

He was high as a freaking kite, of that she was positive. Too bad, too. He was much too hot to waste his looks—and probably his wealth—on the life of a burn-out. Claire took a moment to observe him as he stalked toward her. Any woman would be tempted to fall to her knees and thank the Lord for his creation when they got a look at the one-two punch this guy was bringing. Tall and sculpted without looking like one of those muscle-beach meatheads, she was willing to bet he pretended to be some sort of fitness junkie when he wasn’t high. She saw it sometimes in addicts. They looked fit and portrayed a healthy lifestyle to cover up their illegal extracurricular activities. He probably worked in the film industry. Not on-screen talent, but she figured he was a lawyer, or producer. Maybe a money man. Or more likely, private security. An aura of importance surrounded him as if he knew he was the shit and everyone else should, too.

Full, dark hair brushed his brow in a casual style that was meant to look like he’d hopped out of bed and into his clothes. A straight nose, sharp cheekbones, and the most amazing dimple in his chin only lent to his aura of strength. And his eyes … holy shit, were they beautiful. A bright turquoise blue that reminded her of a picture she’d seen of the waters off the coast of Cozumel. She felt an instant connection with him. Something deep and obsessive that stole her breath. She’d never felt such an intense spark of interest before. Shame, too, since she was about to rob the poor sucker blind.

Good looks or not, she wasn’t here to flirt. Besides, she didn’t waste her time on addicts and users. He was mere feet from her now, each step he took a predatory swagger that sent a thrill through her body. Claire’s breath returned, quickening in her chest as she sized him up: much bigger up close. For a moment she had the feeling that she might be in way over her head with this one, but then her gaze landed on the gorgeous Patek watch on his left wrist. With the right fence, that watch could cover six months or more’s worth of rent. Not to mention cupboards full of groceries. She’d hit pay dirt with this guy.
Ka-ching!

Claire fixed a flirtatious smile on her face, which, considering the guy was a super hottie wasn’t too tough. He closed the remaining feet between them in a couple of long strides and braced himself against the wall with one strong arm, leaning down as he buried his face in her hair. Was he
smelling
her? Okay, that was sort of weird.

“What are you?”

His voice was a low, hungry rumble in her ear that caused chills to break out over her flesh. Dude was trippin’ balls, no doubt about it, but oh man, he could use that voice on her anytime he wanted. “What do you want me to be?” The suggestive banter was meant to invite physical contact. He was so out of his mind, it wouldn’t be tough to lift his wallet, or that amazing watch once the heavy petting began. Claire’s gaze landed on his full lips and she almost sighed. If she had to, she could sacrifice a kiss or two,
if
it meant ensuring his distraction.

“Don’t play with me. I’m not in the mood for games. You’re not simply a human female.”

Simply a human?
She’d underestimated just how far gone this guy was. “Now, why would I play games with you?” She looked up to meet his gaze. Those turquoise eyes—the dark pupils blown—burned with something she couldn’t identify, the intensity of his expression bordering on pain. She reached up and threaded her fingers through the silky soft strands of his hair. Claire almost felt bad for the guy. He was so out of it, he was practically begging to be ripped off. “If you’re not interested, I’m pretty sure there’s someone waiting for you back at your table.”

A thought occurred that he might be a pimp for top of the line call girls. The woman slumped over in his booth sure looked like one. And how awesome was he for just leaving her passed out and alone like that? Creep. He was drop-dead gorgeous, but that was the thing about sin, it was always seductive.

“What’s your name?” Good lord. Wasn’t anyone interested in an anonymous hookup? She was running out of creative responses.

“Amy,” she answered. “Yours?”

“Michael.”

“No, it isn’t.” The words left Claire’s mouth before she could stop them from escaping. She didn’t usually call people out on their bullshit, just used it as leverage. But it seemed she couldn’t help but point out his lie.

He canted his head to the side and pinned her with a stare that was much too lucid for his drugged-out state. Something silvery glinted in the depths of his dark pupils and Claire gave herself a mental shake. Maybe she was getting a contact high? “Why would you say that?”

Yeah, Claire, why would you?
She was supposed to be inviting his trust, encouraging him to lower his guard, not put him on high alert.
Eye on the prize. Get your hands on that watch and get the hell out of here.

Rule of the hustle number five: never break character. She was in a club, surrounded by drugs and alcohol. It would throw up all sorts of red flags if she was the only woman in the place who wasn’t at least rocking a buzz. She couldn’t turn off the hook-up vibe she’d been sending his way just because her internal lie detector was flashing. Besides, who was she to judge?

“You just don’t look like a Michael to me, that’s all.” Claire wrapped her fingers around his large forearm, braced against the wall beside her. Holy shit, the guy must have been chiseled from marble. She caressed a path to his wrist and brought his hand down so it rested on her hip. At this angle, she should be able to flip the clasp on the watch. Once it was good and loose, he wouldn’t even notice when it slipped off his wrist.

His nostrils flared when their bodies connected and he stepped in closer, so close that Claire had to crane her neck up to look into his face. A shiver raced across her flesh. Was it the rush of the con, or the thrill of that large palm cupping her hip, his fingers squeezing her flesh as though barely restrained? “Your scent is maddening.” His voice was a ragged, desperate growl in her ear. “And I want nothing more than to taste you.”

Okay, she’d heard weirder. But the way he spoke—his voice slightly accented in a way that made it hard to pinpoint a region—coupled with the formality of his words piqued Claire’s curiosity. Who in the hell was this guy, anyway? And just what did
tasting her
entail? As she contemplated the possibilities, she couldn’t deny that the prospect of having his lush mouth anywhere on her body made Claire’s brain go a little fuzzy. Rule number six of the hustle: never lose control.

Keeping her wits about her was a must right now and she couldn’t let his sexy voice or
GQ
good looks distract her. The whole point of this game was to keep him so occupied that he wouldn’t notice that she’d lifted his watch. Her goal had been to get him all hot and bothered and then move in for the kill. Dude was already pretty worked up. So it was time to get on with the show.

“I have to admit, I’ve been watching you all night.” Claire made sure to keep her voice nice and breathy. “Imagining what it might be like to kiss you.” She licked her lips as she stared up into those endless blue eyes and let out a sigh that ended on a moan. His brow creased at the sound, and he rolled his hips into her.
Holy shit.
Is that a redwood in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?
Her lips parted on a silent
oh
. Okay, she’d definitely gotten a contact high from someone smoking weed nearby. Because she had to be hallucinating her mark’s good looks and raw sensuality.

Michael
shifted, cupping her ass with his free hand. Claire couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips as he hoisted her up as though she weighed nothing and braced her back against the wall. She really had no choice but to wrap her legs around his waist, and when her core brushed up against the erection straining against the fly of his high-priced designer slacks, every nerve in her body ignited with awareness. His gaze burned with desire and a lucidity that frightened her. Maybe he wasn’t as high as she’d given him credit for.

So much for being the hunter. Claire had a feeling that she’d just become his prey.

Look for more sensational dragon shapeshifters in these other Dark Kings novels by
New York Times
Bestselling Author

DONNA GRANT

DARK HEAT

DARKEST FLAME

FIRE RISING

BURNING DESIRE

HOT BLOODED

SOUL SCORCHED

…and look for

PASSION IGNITES

Available in November 2015

Look for the other novels in this sensational Gargoyle Series by

New York Times
Bestselling Author

CHRISTINE WARREN

HARD AS A ROCK

STONE COLD LOVER

HEART OF STONE

Crave more great reads?

Look for

CLAIMED BY THE MATE

by Kate Douglas and A.C. Arthur

A two-in-one edition of two sexy paranormal werewolf shapeshifter novels!

Available, as an e-book, in September 2015 from St. Martin’s Press

Kate Baxter
is a die-hard romantic with a thing for Shakespeare. She lives in the great northwest where she hides away to write about all things fanged, furry, and undead.

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