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Yup, I’ve got him. “Come pick me up and bring me some clothes for Cor and I will tell you all about it,” I say and turn around, just to find myself nose to nose with a very wet, very attentive Cor. “Fuck!”

“Fine, I’ll— What? What is it?”

I clench my chest and take a deep breath, closing my eyes. I will not faint. I will not faint. “Nothing, just being stalked. Get here as soon as possible, before someone notices the big guy and I have to start shooting people.”

Cor makes a soft sound and cocks his head as if he understands what I’m saying. My lips crook into a smile on their own, just as Stanley growls, “I’ll try to hurry. But if you prove my ex right by letting that beast kill me, I’ll come haunting you. Ghost vampire style.”

IT’S ABOUT FIFTEEN minutes and an eternity later when a hesitant knock breaks Cor’s and my stare-off. When I open the door, I find Stanley there, clutching a stack of dark gray sweats against his chest. He has done something to his curly hair that makes him look party-boy cute, and he wears clubbing clothes. I might have interrupted his fun night out with my calls. Oops. His eyes are incredibly wide as he whispers, “Is he here?”

“Yeah, he’s—” I turn and blink at the empty space where Cor just was. “—here somewhere, I guess,” I finish, sigh, and step out of the way so Stanley can enter. “Come in and prop the door closed, please.” I point at the motel bible and Stanley throws me a disbelieving glance, as if to say, ‘Really? This?’. I shrug at his silent accusal. He’s a vampire; he’s not allowed to be vexed by my blasphemy.

Stanley hands me the stack of clothes and watches me go through them. “So, what’s the plan here? You gonna keep him as a pet monster?” His words have a bite to them, and when I look up at his face, there is a tense line around his jaw, matching the glare of his eyes. The quiet anger in his expression makes me take a step back and swallow. I know my gun is holstered and within reach of my fingers, but vampires are damned fast, and suddenly I am forced to consider if I would win a quick draw contest against Stanley.

“First of all, look who’s talking about pet monsters as if it were frowned upon in your society. You yourself told me what his kind did to him for centuries. I didn’t hear you say anything about that, Mr. High And Mighty. And second, he’s not a pet,” I growl. “He’s a six-foot-something—”

“Naked,” Stanley wheezes.

“—naked vampire who needs… Wait, how do you know he’s naked?”

Stanley’s finger shakes a little as he points at something behind me, all traces of anger gone. A low, rumbling growl fills the tiny room, as if to answer the gesture.

I don’t know what instinct rides me, but when Cor charges, I’m in his path, hands pushing against his chest as if that would ever stop him. The set of new clothes falls in a heap between us, forgotten at the actual possibility that Stanley will get to know Cor’s strength intimately.

Cor doesn’t have to stop, not even to avoid hurting me. I have seen how fast he can be when he wants to, how easily he could have dodged me, but he doesn’t. He stops at the touch of my hands, his growl vibrating through his chest and into my very bones.

“Don’t,” I shout, just to make sure he doesn’t change his mind and dodge me after all. “He’s here to help us. He brought clothes for you, see?” I nod down, too afraid to let him go and pick them up.

Muscles bulge and relax against my sweaty hands as Cor sucks in a deep breath, scenting the air. The way he narrows his eyes at Stanley makes me break out in a cold sweat, but I do my best not to tense further. After a few long, precarious moments, he straightens a little, huffs out a breath, and rumbles a single, foreboding word. “Hungry.”

And now I’m confused. It’s common sense that he should be hungry after spending what sounds like decades in a box, but when he didn’t suck me dry, I assumed his keeper fed him from time to time. Which he had to have done, or Cor would have lost his bulk. But still, if he was hungry when we met, why didn’t he drink my blood when he had the chance? And why does he eye Stanley like he is a ten-dollar-burger?

I’ve heard of vampires drinking from vampires, especially when they are young or want to get high on venom, but the blood of their own kind has very little nutritional value. Those who are forced to live on vampire blood lose their unique abilities until they can get their hands on a human, and even vampires can become venom addicts if they aren’t careful. Cor doesn’t behave like an addict, but he still ogles Stanley like he’s food.

I push him a little, trying to get his attention back to me. “We do not eat Stanley, okay? I’ll make sure you get something to eat as soon as we are safe, but right now I have to handle this.”

That broad chest vibrates beneath my hands again, the growl so low I can’t hear it. Then Cor huffs and relaxes a little, going from ready to pounce to tense and lurky.

“I told you, he’s a Strigan, not a normal vampire.” Stanley squeaks as if he knows exactly what I am thinking. “He eats my kind. Like, really eat. Which is why I’d very much like to leave now.”

My head spins a little as I try to wrap my brain around the bombshell Stanley so casually dropped. “Okay. Wow. I thought you were just being dramatic before. But really? No, don’t answer that. I do believe you. It’s just…” A vampire who eats his own people. Why didn’t I know about this? I’ve read almost every book in the Hunter library and definitely everything about vampires, but I can’t remember a single mention of a creature that lives off vampire blood. I mean, sure, most carnivorous creatures don’t discriminate and would take a bite out of a vampire if the chance presented itself, but having vampires as their main nutritional staple? That’s huge.

Cor makes a soft, guttural sound and turns to pick up the clothes, stalking off towards the bathroom, his hunger forgotten. Stanley watches him leave with a pinched expression, then licks his lips and turns his attention back to me. “It’s not public knowledge, this thing. I think his kind would have been long forgotten if it weren’t for him and what his master did to him. And those who know about his existence, about what he is, would rather see him dead than free. He’s not much more than a rabid dog if you ask the elders. A nice diversion but nothing they would want to keep around.”

There Stanley goes, mentioning this master again. “His master… vampire? The one who locked him up and paraded him around?”

“That would be him, yes,” Stanley murmurs, chewing his lip as his eyes trail behind me.

I turn just in time to see Cor fumble with the zipper of his hoodie, a deep frown creasing his forehead. The sweatpants hug his legs like a second skin, outlining his muscles and package like they were tailored this way just to make old ladies blush. Right now I can’t imagine anything that wouldn’t look good on that body. I swallow loudly and clear my throat, turning back to Stanley just to find him staring at Cor with a flustered expression on his face. It makes me angry. “Stop ogling him. You want him dead, remember?”

Stanley gives me a shit-eating grin. “He’s all yours, Mr. Hunter, Sir. Now, what else do you need from me?”

I fight down the urge to roll my eyes. “A safe-house for me and him, a pointer where I can get vampire blood for Cor. And answers to a few questions in exchange for information that will make you very popular with Loreley.”

Cor shuffles closer, looming behind me like an ominous shadow. I feel him lean forward, and hot breath wafts against my neck as he sniffs me, rumbling approvingly at whatever he smells there. Stanley swallows and takes a step back, clearing his throat. “Okay, easy. I know just the place.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

STANLEY’S ‘PLACE TO stay’ turns out to be an old, two-floor city house in the Border District, wedged in between exact replicas of itself. The street is pot-holed and rife with piles of rotting leaves, surrounded by even more ancient houses with stone steps and vaguely Greek looking portcullises. Every few houses, an old tree rakes leafed branches at the sky, bursting out of its concrete flower beds that are now little more than rubble. Giant roots have lifted the asphalt around the concrete beds, forming hills and valleys high enough to threaten pedestrians, of whom more than a few are walking the streets. I have seen only two cars ever since we turned onto this road; with the state of both the road and sidewalks, I’m not surprised. Feet are king in this area.