Authors: Erica Hayes
Hunter's Blood
Hunter’s
Blood
Erica Hayes
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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HUNTER’S BLOOD
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 201
2
by
Erica Hayes
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
Chapter One
"I'm not hunting demons with him. No way." Gina Santangelo glared and folded sweaty arms across her hard leather vest, but her belly tightened. Heaven, strike me dead. Rip hell asunder and devour me whole. Anything but this.
"Nice to see you, too, Santangelo."
That dark male chuckle tingled heat down Gina's spine. The guildmistress's modern office was warm, but not that warm, and Gina's cheeks scorched, surely the color of the fresh blood she'd gulped down for breakfast. Don't meet his gaze. Don't even look at him.
Might as well beg hellfire not to consume.
Screaming hells, even after five years of hating him, Luka Dragovic was still hotter than the devil himself.
Piercing eyes, greener than envy and as dangerous. An aristo's cheekbones, full lips that made her think dirty thoughts, sharp white fangs just the right length for the kind of rough games she liked. He wore hunters' leathers, like she did, black pants and boots and a buckled black chestplate with shoulder guards that showed off his massive arms. His whole body was tightly muscled from decades of physical training. Powerful thighs, a killer ass, a palpable aura of strength. She could taste his magic, salty and hot like blood. Around his neck on a leather strip, a blood-red gemstone glittered bright. A bloodstone was the focus of a vampire's magic, and his was dazzling. The man oozed power.
Her own bloodstone burned. Hunger growled in her stomach, as well as in more secret places, as he draped his arrogant gaze over her body, and the spelled hunting knives strapped to her thighs glowed hot.
Recognition—and sultry challenge?—flamed golden in his eyes, and she squirmed, the thick heels of her hunting boots scraping the soft carpet. Boots notwithstanding, he was taller than she. His sheer size threatened her, which was a total turn-on. So many men were too short. And that tousled, coal-black hair was surely the eighth deadly sin. She'd always had the hots for longer hair on a man. Crisp ends curling about his neck in sultry invitation, begging to be wrapped around her fists while he sank those sexy fangs into her throat…
Gina swallowed, and tore her gaze away. She'd crushed that hair in her hands once, five years ago, and he'd humiliated her. "Lady, is this necessary?"
"Afraid so." Guildmistress Nyssa tidied papers on her curved white desk, dismissive. At four hundred and fifty years old, Nyssa was still a beautiful woman, though her skin was roughening with age, her blond ponytail riffled with silver. In the modern era of incredulity, even vampires aged eventually. Few people believed in magic anymore, and without belief, magic failed.
"But—"
A blue glare. "In case you'd forgotten, Santangelo, tonight is Samhain, when the hellflux is at its thinnest. Demons are breaking through in ever greater numbers. We need our very best hunters on the job."
Gina's stomach flipped. The hellflux was the invisible barrier between the human and demon realms. Hell wasn't underground—it was everywhere, occupying the same space as the visible world, yet separated from it by the thinnest of skins. With her magical vampire sight, she could see the hellflux everywhere, crackling in the air like a web of static, a cosmic bubble that kept earth in and hell out.
Some vampires had long desired mastery over demons, believing that demonic powers were the key to the vampires' lost eternal life. Secretly, they used their magic to weaken the hellflux, giving the demons what they wanted in return—access to human souls. And lately, their faction, known in the Hunters Guild as the hellmongers, had gained ascendancy, infiltrating positions of political power in both vampire and human worlds.
The Hunters Guild disagreed. Humans weren't just food animals to be sacrificed. But humans were weak, and needed protection from soul-hungry demons if both vampires and humans were ultimately to survive. The existence of vampires was no longer a secret, but they still weren't widely accepted by humans, and the Hunters worked in clandestine accord with top-secret levels of human government, using blood magic to keep the hellflux fresh and the demons in hell where they belonged, in return for free access to blood banks for food.
The thought of going into action made Gina's heart skip faster, her fingertips sizzling with latent spells. Demon hunting was perilous—vampires healed from injury with inhuman speed, but they weren't indestructible. But Gina was a skilled Hunter, and she loved the adrenaline, the crackle of her magic as she hauled a screaming demon through the hellflux for slaughter. The danger only excited her more.
Maybe something was wrong with her. She didn't care. A good fight was better than sex. At least, better than any sex she'd had lately.
Nyssa sighed. "Luka, welcome back. You're sorely needed. I assume your team is assembled?"
Gina bristled. His team? "Lady, you can't be serious! This… this person left us in the lurch for five years and you want to trust him? He could be in league with the hellmongers."
But even as she spoke, she hoped it wasn't true. Dragovic might be a lying, manipulative asshole, but he was a damned good demon hunter. The best. Everyone's hero. If even he was tempted by demon lies, no good remained in the world.
Still, resentment stung. She'd risen quickly through Guild ranks, testament to talent and hard work. She wanted to be the best. And now, he'd returned…
Dragovic didn't answer. Didn't even look at her. But scarlet threat flashed in those piercing eyes, and Gina knew with a shiver that he meant it for her.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that accusation," Nyssa snapped. "Dragovic has my full confidence." But her gaze slipped.
Gina felt like rolling her eyes. Confidence, my ass. Back for five minutes, and already he's bedding the guildmistress to gain her favor.
But the double standard stung. Gina liked to play the field, to try all the flavors before buying. She craved the sexual variety, and men liked that she didn't expect commitment or even a phone call. That way, neither party got attached, and she didn't have to remember they all only wanted her for her power. Mingling magic during sex was highly pleasurable, the more so the stronger the spells, and Gina's bloodstone glowed brighter than almost anyone's in the Guild. Fending off lecherous magicians was an occupational hazard.
Still, she'd taken care not to get a reputation for screwing around to get ahead. So why was it okay for a man?
She tried again. "But—"
Nyssa silenced her with a spell-crackled glare. "If you keep questioning my orders, I'll boot you from the team altogether and replace you. Understand?"
Gina bowed her head, fuming. "Yes, Lady."
"Good. The team, Luka?"
Dragovic just dipped his head in a sharp salute. "Locked and loaded."
"Good. Proceed." Nyssa rose and marched out, digging out her phone to make a call.
Gina sighed, defeated. And the man she'd vowed never to speak to again swept his hot green gaze onto her face.
"Hello, Gina. How are you?" His voice was soft, a hint of centuries-old Slavic accent, but it still crept warm shivers all over her body.
Shivers he had no business putting there. Not the way he'd humiliated her. Not after he'd abandoned them all for five long years. And not now he'd come sniffing after her job like the selfish rat fink weasel he was.
Determination tempered like steel in her heart. She was older now, more experienced. She'd show him—and Mistress Nyssa—who was the better hunter. And then her place on the Guild's crack hunting team would be unassailable, and she'd never think about his knee-melting kisses again.
She rounded on him, fangs springing out, her hand flashing to the knife at her belt beneath her leather jacket. "That's 'Santangelo' to you, Hunter. I don't know where you've been for five years and I don't care, so let's get a few things straight. I work for you, fine. That doesn't mean I have to talk to you, and I sure as hells don't have to like you. So keep your smart-ass chit-chat to yourself, and let's kill some demons. Okay?"
Chapter Two
The second his former protégée's snapping blue eyes locked on his, Luka's fangs jabbed at the inside of his mouth, and for a hot scarlet moment, all he could think about was blood.
Her blood. Her hair, crisp and warm on his fingers. Her lips, parting breathlessly under his, all those years ago.
He sucked in a shuddering breath. Five years in hell, at a demon's ice-hearted mercy. He'd survived excruciating torment only by holding on to Gina's image, waiting for the day when he'd see her again. His last good memory, one the demon couldn't take away. Her scent, her saucy smile, the breathtaking beat of her pulse. She'd kept him alive and sane. It hadn't seemed futile at the time.
But it sure as hells did now. She loathed him, and he couldn't blame her. His captivity was a well-guarded secret, lest the hellmongers use it to undermine human confidence in the Hunters. She probably thought he'd just walked out, on the entire Hunters Guild as well as on her.
She tilted her round little chin up, stubborn. The heart shape those tempting cinnamon-brown lips made was almost more than he could take without moving closer for a taste. Those zinging blue eyes still set his pulse to sprinting, and her stunning curves sucked his gaze in. She'd not changed a bit, yet there was something…
She propped her hand on her hip, teasing, and her eyes flashed in mock invitation. Shiny dark hair sprang over her shoulder, and her breasts swelled tight inside her leather vest. "See something you like, professor?"
His cock hardened at the suggestion, and inwardly he laughed. There was something, all right. He'd left her a girl, a star-struck student he shouldn't have messed with but couldn't keep his hands off that one fateful night.
Now, she was a simmering armful of red-hot woman. And he wanted her more than ever.
Oh, yes. He'd take up right where he left off. His tongue in her mouth, fangs clashing, her hands ravenous on his body. Her dark curls would spring over his fingers when he tugged out the clip, ripe with her luscious woman-scent. He'd rip that tough-girl leather vest away and roll her ripe pink nipples between his lips until she begged for mercy or more. Slide his tongue between her legs and suckle her, pierce her, her blood sliding over his tongue, down his throat…
The flashes hit him, and he reeled.
Thirsty heat, dust, a river of rotten blood. Burning rocks searing his back. Shackles biting wrists and ankles, chains dragging him helpless, the stink of rust and burnt meat. Bereft of magic, his bloodstone ripped away. Excruciating pain, the demon's serpent voice whispering vile torment, flesh bursting apart, bones splintering, hot vampire blood gushing, more and more until the demon's ferocious appetite was satisfied, only it never was, over and again and forever…
Luka bit his tongue, and the fresh blood in his mouth snapped him out of it.
Dizziness swamped him, and passed.
Since he'd escaped hell—was it six weeks ago already?—the flashbacks plagued him. Especially when he thought about sex. He'd tried to touch a woman, some pretty girl he'd met in a bar. Tried to make love to her, to defeat the waking nightmares, but it hadn't worked. Even feeding was a chore. His wounds were healed, his body whole, but he couldn't shake off dark memories of five tortured years in hell.
One day soon, when his magic was at full strength, he'd storm back in there with bloodspells blazing, and eat that fucking demon's heart.
But he couldn't do it alone.
He'd stolen his bloodstone back, and his blood magic was regaining its former power. But he'd barely survived. To defeat the demon, he needed more.
More magic. Like Gina Santangelo's. Her bloodstone glowed brighter than almost any he'd seen. Meld her power with his, and he'd more than match the monster.
Never mind that it was unethical to steal. And she'd never surrender it to him willingly, not in a thousand years. That much was clear. Even if the idea of melding with her—making love with her, sharing blood and magic—made him sweat and harden.
"Fine," he said tersely. "Think what you like of me. But I'm your team leader, so when we're on the job, you do as I say. No hesitation, no complaints. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," she snapped, when what she clearly meant was fuck you. Her eyes blazed azure, the aura around her sparkling not just with hatred, but with desire.
Magical sparks crackled lust over his skin. Yes. She still wanted him, even if she hated his guts. Her magic had flowered since last they'd met. She was deliciously powerful. And hells, her attitude turned him on.
"Please don't call me 'sir'. I'm not your instructor anymore." So we can do whatever we like together. Like go back to my place and get naked…
"Then what should I call you?" The tip of her tongue touched her teeth, and now he had an aching hard-on that threatened to burst his leathers.
Damnation. He couldn't afford to get distracted. He needed her magic. Nothing more. The fact that she was so deliciously fuckable that his mouth watered would only make seducing her more fun. Assuming he could keep the flashbacks away for long enough to get the job done. And with Gina, he wanted it to be a long, hard, breathless job that made her moan. Hours. Days, even.
He forced a half-smile, blocking out evil images of blood, pain, fire. "Luka would be nice. Hunter will do. Anything involving four-letter words is out."
She gave a playful grin that fired heat straight to his balls. "Luka is a four-letter word."
He leaned closer. Her scent—leather, smoke and woman—dried his mouth. "So is Gina."
She flushed, but didn't retreat. Didn't look away. Too proud, his gorgeous woman, to back off an inch. "Fine," she said, her husky whisper an invitation. "Glad we've got that sorted. Truce?"
"Truce." He couldn't stop staring at her mouth, so soft and pouting. Hells, he wanted to kiss her. Wanted to explain everything. But five years was too late for an 'about last night' conversation. Still, what did it matter? After he stole her magic, she'd never speak to him again anyway…
Compelled, he inched even closer, and their auras clashed. Tingled. Burned. Unholy fire, that felt good. He'd always known she was powerful, but in full maturity her aura was breathtaking. And she made his own magic spark alive and hungry, stronger than he'd felt it for a long time. She was just what he needed…
Before he could help it, his fangs clicked out, and he growled.
She backed off, her eyes gleaming crimson. "Don't do that."
Fuck. He jerked his fangs in tight, swallowing on copper as he backed away and folded his arms. "My apologies. Long time since I ate. Forget it. Kill some hellspawn?"
"You got it." Her leather jacket rode up as she walked off, flashing him a tempting glimpse of tanned hip.
"We assemble at dusk," he called after her. "Downtown. Don't be late."
A defiant head-toss, her hair a dark glory. "I'm always early," she replied smoothly. "It's you that's five years late. Just stay away from me, Hunter. I'm not available."
