Loe raamatut: «Vampire Lover»
Kelsie Connor is looking for a big headline to jumpstart her career as a journalist—like proving the existence of vampires and werewolves. She’s always felt that Others exist, though she’s never met one herself. So on the night of the Blood Moon, Kelsie goes looking for a werewolf … but meets a vampire instead. A vampire who makes her blood run hot and makes her feel things she never imagined a body could feel.
Hayden Flann had been secretly watching Kelsie for some time, drawn to her by a powerful bloodlust and equally strong sexual attraction. But Hayden recognizes that he and Kelsie are connected by more than passion. Little does she know that Hayden is not just her lover—he’s also her enemy, born to seduce her before he kills her… .
Vampire Lover
Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
MILLS & BOON
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CHAPTER ONE
The heat hitting Kelsie Connor in a wave was like a second-degree sunburn on midwestern-pale skin, but she refrained from touching her bare shoulder with the cool rim of her martini glass. Movement of any kind could prove suicidal beneath a moon like the one in tonight’s balmy June sky, if the legends were true.
The majority of Homo sapiens might not perceive anything abnormal about the blaringly bright full moon lending a reddish cast to the sidewalk, but humans weren’t the only species calling Miami home. And not all humans were unobservant.
Certainly not herself.
Tonight’s moon had a special name. Blood Moon. A moniker for the second full moon in a single month. Not a Blue Moon, as some people called it. This particular one, appearing every five years, looked more like the sun viewed through a layer of smog. Nothing remotely white or silver or blue about it. Not so benign.
Rumor had it that this moon brought out other two-legged, night-loving species besides Miami’s usual sleek human glitterati. Legends foretold these Others could smell movement, as if action was another word for bouquet. Not only that, it was said that Others had internal directional beacons spliced into their genes, and just flat out knew where to find fresh meat or fresh blood or whatever their particular dietary needs dictated.
“Disgusting …”
While poor human saps like herself had be lucky enough to utilize all of their senses, and then scramble to find two or three more in order to keep on the good side of the separation between life and death on any night in a city this size.
Kelsie took a second glace up at the strange, unearthly phenomenon overhead and rode out a ripple of internal heat at the thought of what that moon could do for her career if she was right about what might happen beneath it.
The thought actually turned her on a little.
Moisture gathered between her thighs.
This definitely wasn’t the night to be strolling around, looking for a stray ocean breeze. Nor was it opportune for taking shortcuts on dark, underpopulated side streets. Five years ago, during the last Blood Moon phase, ten people had gone missing in this part of Miami alone. Maybe not so unusual in a decadent city on a steamy summer night, but she had crunched some unpublicized numbers, turning up the names of at least twenty more MIA’s that had fallen beneath the radar.
What happened to those people?
As a fact-finder for the Miami Tribune, Kelsie knew that numbers, and the ways to get them, were her game. She was damn good at her job. Now, though, like all wannabe writers who longed to move up in the world of journalism, she needed a break.
“So here I am, in the market for a monster.” An Other. A creature out of legend that would help her get that elusive byline.
What she wanted was a werewolf.
With a grin, Kelsie leaned back against the warm brick on the outside patio of the Havana Club, untasted martini in her hand, trying not to call attention to herself. Her gray silk camisole and black skirt amounted to camouflage in this chic crowd. She had understated her makeup; nothing too red or too vibrant. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was down, straight and combed off to one side.
As a matter of fact, she might have gone a tad too far by understating everything, she acknowledged, watching the dancing, flirting hordes of men and women making the scene. By keeping her distance and blatantly showing her indifference to the art of the pickup, she might actually stand out a little.
Still, if anyone could find a werewolf—given that there were such things—she was determined to do so. If anything could lure a werewolf out of hiding, a Blood Moon would be the ticket. Her senses were keen enough to sniff out a story, honed by her journalism background and the attention she paid to her surroundings. She tried to process details in a manner similar to the way she supposed werewolves sucked up moonlight. Taking it all in.
Thus far, at this club, however, she had only come across wolves of another sort. The usual kind. Problem was, there were too many people jammed into a tight space to see individuals clearly. The hum of voices had escalated over the thump of the music as bar drinks flowed.
Kelsie scanned the crowd, darting hopeful glances here and there. For what? A bit of fur showing on the back of someone’s neck? Like finding a werewolf would be that easy?
Closing her eyes briefly, she enjoyed the arrival of a rare ocean breeze. The night was glorious, even if it proved to be monster-free. She loved the dark, the stars overhead, the night heat that seared her lungs. Miami was like no other place on earth, and about as far removed from her family’s Irish heritage as was possible.
Ireland hadn’t held anything interesting for her in some time. Living in the States made it easier to chase interests and follow her own path. She just needed this one little monster in order to get ahead. A hairy one, preferably.
“Is that too much to ask for?” she said aloud. “Kelsie Connor, on the prowl. Trolling the dark in search of adventure.” Needing to ferret out the rumors and put my strange compulsion to find Others to the test.
“Maybe you, big guy?”
Her gaze latched on to a man in a floral shirt, well beneath the club’s blue awning. A decent candidate for a werewolf? Tall, broad-shouldered, with abundant auburn hair and a perfect tan, he moved with an animalistic, lumbering step as he stalked a woman sucking down a lime-green, nuclear-hued appletini.
Hell, he actually looked like potential, the epitome of something unmorphed. After all, Weres could be anybody, anywhere, without a full moon to trip their DNA switches. Recipients of gene splicing/coding between humans and wolves could either be complete fantasy, or an actual syndrome affecting a small segment of the population. She hoped for the latter. Because if there were such things as werewolves, one informative bio in a newspaper column would make this freaky Blood Moon worth her weight in gold.
“Tonight’s the night. 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 and mouth all over this woman. He wanted his lips on her long golden neck. These longings made him feel like the animal he’d never really been or accepted as part of himself.
His fangs were descending, and he knew better. Vampires had to exist on the periphery of mortal life, unexposed. Now was not the time or the place to explore his attraction to the woman. He had to be careful not to call too much attention to himself.
Leave now, before hunger obliterates good judgment.
Hunger was, in fact, circling, like a pack of snapping wolves. But he continued to search her face, noting that her eyes were a light jade-green and hooded by dark lashes. Familiar eyes?
The silver chain at her throat flashed as her head began to turn. Hayden winced, jolted by another surprise. Surely the little charm hanging from that chain, lying in the soft cleft between her collarbones, wasn’t what it appeared to be?
Couldn’t be.
Damnation, now that he’d seen it, he’d have to know for sure. Because if it was what he thought it might be, all hell was about break loose on the patio of a nightclub, and his move to America had been for nothing.
Forcing stale, steamy air into his lungs to maintain his composure, Hayden walked toward the woman, driven her way, fascinated beyond description, careful to keep his lips closed over the dagger-sharp teeth that defined him.
He is making a move?
The man heading Kelsie’s way was tall, fair-haired and handsome, even in the shadows. Big, lithe, with aristocratic features and a fluid grace, he was, upon first glance, a poster boy for the term sex appeal. The whole package.
He was also a serious distraction from her task at hand.
His blond hair was worn on the long side, with just the right amount of curl. He was scrumptiously masculine in casual black slacks and a blue linen shirt that she hoped matched his eyes.
Males like this one were trouble to every female hormone on the planet. Except maybe for hers, tonight. Tonight, she was on a mission. A career-building quest. Her entire future depended on ignoring distractions like this one, no matter how flattering they were, and in spite of the way her treacherous body might react to the guy’s appearance.
Remember the job, Connor.
Despite the reminder, her heart skipped some beats as the stranger stopped in front of her, blocking her view of the doorway. A full two heads taller than herself, Kelsie had to look up to address his untimely intrusion.
“Sorry. I’m waiting for someone,” she said, hating the fact that he was so classy, close up, and that she had to ignore it. He was, in fact, one of the most gorgeous men she had ever seen.
“I’m sure you are,” he conceded in a voice that matched his exterior—deep, rumbling and private in a way that jump-started her chills all over again.
“Already have a drink.” Kelsie held up her glass before noticing that her hand was shaking, and so was the glass. The back her of neck prickled, again with that cool rush of air.
Premonition, maybe?
Although most Irish people were superstitious about such things, Kelsie fought the impulse. She was young and moderately attractive, so guys routinely tried to pick her up. She was adept at giving a decent brush-off to pursuers she wasn’t interested in. Yet damned if she didn’t feel tongue-tied right then.
Tasuta katkend on lõppenud.
