Vampire Lover. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
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I feel it.”
Squeezing her thighs together to fend off the thrill Kelsie figured she shared with most reporters about to close in on a story, she scanned the crowd again. Her grin faded as she riffled through the rest of the legends.
There were, of course, other Others. Vampires. An altogether scarier breed. The walking dead. As bloodlusting bloodsuckers, out only at night, they’d have to show up as pale anomalies in this city, and stand apart. As did pasty-hued tourists among the Miami sun and sand natives.
The thought of vampires in the area was a sudden deal-breaker, chilling the blistering night. Kelsie felt that chill waft in now, like a cold breath on the back of her neck.
Unlike werewolves, vampires weren’t humanlike most of the time. None of the time, in fact. They might walk like humans and talk like humans, because that’s what they had been once upon a time, but when the life had been drained out of them, they became animated cadavers who tended to pass on that same trait to people who came into contact with them.
The stuff of nightmares.
To make matters worse, there was more than one kind. Besides double-dead vampires, there were living vampires who possessed human traits and heartbeats.
“I’ll take a werewolf, please,” she said aloud, trying to dislodge the chill that seemed to be sticking around and was now dribbling down her back, making a point to hit each vertebra, ending on the one closest to her butt.
Vowing never to even think the V word again, Kelsie leaned more weight on the brick, allowing the rough surface to scratch at her slinky gray silk, needing to cut off that chill. She took a good-size sip of her martini before remembering she didn’t drink, and coughed. The alcohol had been purely for looks. A prop. Connors never had been able to manage their liquor.
And damn it, the pesky chills were unwarranted, since there was no way a vampire could be around others and virtually blend in. She didn’t want one of those. Why would anyone go out of their way to find a vampire, when a pair of fangs could etch the word lethal across a jugular vein?
But wait! she thought with a healthy dose of sarcasm. Vampires were supposed to be cool-skinned, right? Considering tonight’s hundred degree swelter, rubbing up against one might be so bad, after all.
She grinned widely. Pressing the martini glass to her throat, she muttered, “One good story is all I need. Something unique, and not too life threatening.”
A werewolf would do. In particular, a werewolf hit by the light of a Blood Moon. Think of the headlines! If any man-wolf accidentally stepped out from beneath the awning, lured onto the moon-brightened patio, she’d be waiting.
“Come on, wolf boys, show yourself. Do it for me,” she whispered to the blur of moving bodies inside the doorway, even though the damned chills persisted, despite the summer heat wave.
It felt suddenly as if a fog bank had rolled in. As if she was being watched.
Uncomfortable, curious, with little hairs standing straight up on her arms, Kelsie turned her head, surprised to find she had company. A man. Several feet away. His gaze intent on her—probably because he’d heard every silly thing she’d said.
What have we here?
Hayden Flynn’s interested gaze slipped over the female across from him in a sensual glide. From her shining hair to her sexy high-heeled sandals, the sassy young blonde should have captured the interest of any male with properly functioning body parts, yet this woman was alone, set aside.
A beautiful wallflower.
He observed her carefully, drawn for reasons he couldn’t put a finger on. There were plenty of attractive women in the club tonight, and prettier females within twenty feet in several directions. This one wasn’t outstandingly beautiful by today’s standards, though she was striking.
She had a narrow, heart-shaped face, big eyes, plus a sensual mouth turned up at the corners and perhaps a bit too large for the rest of her delicate features.
A mouth most males would know how to abuse, he noted.
Her body was exquisite. An expensive haircut swung her hair softly over well-proportioned shoulders. Her choice of clothing showed off lots of smooth skin—neck, shoulders, chest, arms. The outline of firm, rounded breasts pressed against her filmy drape of gray silk.
She was incredibly sexy. Mouthwatering.
Hayden was sure he hadn’t seen her before, yet felt as if he had. A stray thought, deliciously tantalizing, suggested that she might be waiting on this patio for him. Wishful thinking?
Hayden studied her further, intrigued.
On the surface, her body language was loose. She was enjoying herself, comfortable with her solitary status at a notorious pickup club. The glass she held was full, though she had been holding it for some time.
Cheap date. The cheeky notion brought on the rise of his own thirst, which he tamped down for the time being, fascinated by the strange things she was doing with her glass.
She pressed the glass again to her lips, but didn’t drink. After resting the rim briefly against her cheek, she closed her eyes, then slowly slid it down to a bare tanned throat the color of honey.
The sliding glass routine was erotic, as was the nakedness of her throat. Naked, that is, except for the twinkle of a fine silver chain that picked up the patio’s torchlight.
Hayden felt a pleasurable sensation run through him that was equal parts lust and intrigue, due to the challenge of silver so close to the woman’s veins.
Pangs of that lust beat at him. He hadn’t ever experienced this kind of immediate attraction. The woman had to be special, somehow. That uniqueness separated her from the other women here tonight, and called to him as surely as if she’d wrapped her glossy lips around him. His entire body was alive, and on standby.
Breaking visual contact with her, Hayden sent his senses outward. He inhaled deeply, frowned, then refocused.
Yes, something is here. Something strange.
The air around the attractive wallflower was as disturbed by her musky scent as he was, as if her presence agitated the night. This sort of air displacement was usually reserved for creatures like himself, but this female was human, live, mortal. Her soul’s song was low-pitched and vibrant, emanating from her like radio waves. A strong, steady heartbeat surrounded the twang of her soul, in the manner of an accompanying bass drum.
Why did she affect the darkness surrounding her?
Hayden searched his memory banks for an answer to that question, hunting for a word to explain the phenomena. He caught one quickly because it was a concept he knew intimately.
Hunger.
The woman was burning up with hunger. Her inner fires were stoked. Her carefully cultivated, languid exterior hid a scrambled ball of energy tucked inside. It was as though her honeyed skin acted as a barrier between her outward persona and a roiling inner chaos that could escape with one good sneeze. This was evidence that she wanted one thing, while her soul wanted something else. The pretty blonde was not only at odds with the night, but at war with herself.
If he hadn’t been completely attracted before, Hayden was fully captivated now. He inhaled again, smelling the complexity of her desire, now that he’d pinpointed her secret turmoil. The scent was dark, like the tumbling incarnation of a summer storm.
Adrenaline spiked as he took in every detail of this storm in her gray silk cocoon, as he followed the line of her short skirt to shapely legs, knees and ankles. Black polish, the color of midnight, tipped her toes, as did two tiny silver bands.
He continued to stare at her openly, growing more aroused by the second. Soon she would notice him. Would the games then begin, or be over before thirst overruled his curiosity?
He wanted his hands