“Hello, little morsel,” a deep, accented voice says into my ear. “Where do you think you’re going?”
He’s directly behind me. Directly in front of me is the door leading out into Budapest.
The door to freedom.
It’s only overrated if you have it.
Vamps are fast. So am I. But this is the king of the vampires, Dominik Király. He’s so fast I’m not sure I stand a chance of getting to the door.
I have one possible option left to me. I fire my elbow backwards, impacting the vampire king behind me and run, reaching the door before what I’ve done can register. I wrench it open, and I’m out in the snow, which is almost blinding.
“I love it when they run.” His voice carries out after me.
I turn and look back at the door. The vampire king stands there, resplendent in his evening wear, looking as crisp as the day he died. Tall, dark, cheekbones you could cut yourself on, and startlingly blue eyes in a pale face. The very epitome of elegance and movie star good looks. He could be in his thirties, but he’s more likely three hundred years old.
If he had been anything or anyone else, he’d be highly desirable. But he’s a vampire and off limits.
Not that I need limits. The fact I failed to kill him will be a mark against me by my family.
“Love this.” I give him the time honored two-finger salute the British are so fond of. And not the one Churchill used.
Dominik shakes his head, and I hear the slow tut. “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,” he intones. “That was beneath you.”
“Says the blood-sucking vampire.”
“We’re both blood suckers, just in different ways,” he says with the hint of a smile.
“If you’re trying to be funny about my career choices, I’ve heard it all before.” I sigh.
“And I’ve heard all the insults any vampire is likely to receive, so perhaps that makes us alike.”
“I am nothing like you,” I growl. “Don’t come after me, or I will stake you.”
I back away, not allowing my eyes to leave him for a moment. Dominik can daywalk, unlike most of his kind. The only saving grace is he’s slower, allegedly.
But not that much slower.
Behind me, a tram rattles to a stop, and I board the yellow and cream contraption.
“Until next time,” Dominik calls out with a wave, as if saying goodbye to an old friend.
I slump into a seat as both relief and exhaustion overtake the adrenaline. There won’t be a next time. Not ever.
This time I’m done with vampire hunting. And I’m done with vampires. Especially ones called Dominik Király.
Dominik
Her scent.
I’ve been doing everything I can to ignore it. From the time spent with her in London, to the time spent at the wedding of my old friend and head of the lead werewolf clan of Budapest. Vampires are supposed to be patient creatures.
I am not.
And yet I’ve been pushing what she is to the very back of my mind. The reason I’ve been on edge for months. The reason I’ve struggled to feed, the reason nothing is good, the reason my skin itches and my long dead heart is vibrating in my chest.
Lucy Cushing is my mate. The descendent of the family sworn to hunt down and kill all vampires…is my mate.
The pretty little human, so delicate and yet so robust at the same time. Her dark hair tumbling in curls around her face, her eyes as blue as the sky. Her skin scattered with the most perfect of freckles.
