Shadow Hunter (The Execution Underground) (2 page)

If he’d been a weaker man, he would have eaten his gun right then.

CHAPTER 2

R
AGE
SURGED
INSIDE
Tiffany Solow as she handed the ancient vampire his Bordeaux. She wished she could smash the delicate glass on the table and plunge the leftover shards into his neck. Waiting hand and foot on Caius Argyros Dermokaites sent waves of anger and hate through every inch of her body. As if rubbing shoulders with the creatures she hated most wasn’t enough, Caius was the worthless bloodsucking piece of crap who’d murdered her brother and the definition of arrogance. She would kill him. It was only a matter of time, and when she did, she would enjoy every single second of it.

“Thank you, my precious,” he purred.

My precious? Gross. I hope you choke on it, you undead piece of crap.

Tiffany forced a smile on her face and slid into the booth beside him. Caius snaked his arm around her. The rank smell of his skin mixed with the aged Bordeaux and a faint hint of blood. The stench hit her nose full force, and she fought to keep from gagging. Thank God she was an amazing actress. If she didn’t have such a rock-solid poker face, infiltrating Caius’s inner circle would have been damn near impossible.

But every time he made her skin crawl was well worth it if it gave her the chance of murdering the son of a bitch. There was no such thing as a decent bloodsucker. They’d proved that the day she’d first become a hunter—the day her family had been stolen from her.

Caius would be tough to kill. Everything in her craved to stab him right then, get it over with. But if she even made a quick move at him, he would crush her before she blinked. She had to catch him with his back turned. His trust was key to his death. And she’d baited him perfectly into wanting her as a Host.

Serving their purpose for a short time, Hosts fed the vampires and sated their blood thirst, but once the anemia set in, the vamps had no more use for their weakened prey. Humans with knowledge of vampires were too high a risk to keep around. Hosts always ended up dead or undead. And despite the Hosts’ presence, vampires weren’t only leeches, they were greedy; feeding regularly on Hosts didn’t stop them from massacring innocent civilians for sport; it only delayed the actions on occasion.

Tiffany had found ways to warn multiple women and men during the time she’d spent with Caius, but it was no use. They were too entranced, nearly hypnotized, by the charm of the bloodsuckers to listen to reason. Tiffany had to admit, that charm was hard to ignore. But every time she thought of the deaths of her parents and brother, not to mention the loss of a deep friendship, her disgust snapped into place and she remembered exactly why she lived to drive stakes through vampires’ hearts. She thanked her lucky stars that Caius was still trying his persuasive skills on her, practically begging her to be his.

He could tell she was healthy and strong. To keep her iron high and appealing, she ate enough red meat and spinach to last her a whole lifetime—the thought of one more piece of spanakopita or rare steak made her stomach churn. Hell, every spare cent she possessed went toward that. Steak wasn’t exactly in the usual budget for a flat-broke college senior with four years of med school and then several more years of residency ahead of her. But it worked in her favor. Caius knew from her scent that she would provide a long Host relationship with all the expected sexual benefits, ensuring that she was too tempting for him to kill her in one quick meal. Caius wanted her for the long term.

Little did he know his efforts would have been more effective on a piece of broccoli. She almost snorted. Was she hungry or what?

He interrupted her thought. “Darling, do you see that private room over there?” Caius gestured toward the far side of the bar.

Tiffany nodded. “Yes.”

Caius sipped his Bordeaux, his eyes fixated on the closed curtain of the private room. “I believe we have a new visitor. Vampire, it appears. He has the movements of a predator.” He set down his wineglass a little more forcefully than necessary. “I won’t have an unannounced alpha traipsing around my club. Please go fetch Calvin and see that he’s taken care of.”

“My pleasure.” She smiled and stood to find the bodyguard. As soon as she turned her back on Caius, her smile faded into a frown.

Eat my stake, you nasty leech.

She was really feeling the pure bitchiness tonight.
But then again, spending more than five minutes with Caius would turn any sane person into a complete basket case. He would pay for everything he’d done. She would gladly drive a stake into his heart and watch him explode to pieces like the blood bag he was. Vampires were so damn messy to kill, but she didn’t care. She wanted nothing more than to make him bleed.

As quickly as possible, she navigated through the crowd toward the back of the club. She exited the first door and stepped into the small area leading back to the offices. She glanced up and down the hall. No Calvin.

An immediate chill ran down her spine. The hairs of her neck and arms stood on end, and goose bumps prickled over her skin. Something was not right. She needed to get out of there, and fast. Pushing through the final exit, a rush of cold winter air hit her hard in the face. She stepped out into the alleyway and fell straight on her ass.

What the hell?

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of what she’d tripped over: Calvin’s dead body. His neck was twisted at a strange angle as he lay lifeless on the pavement. Not a single drop of blood or any evidence of a fight.

Damn. It took a lot of
cojones
to snap the neck of a vampire. Whoever had done this was vicious.

She hopped to her feet and brushed herself off. No skin off her back if Calvin was dead. One less bloodsucker made for a better world. Though Caius would go ballistic at the news, and she didn’t want to deal with one hell of a pissed-off vampire, unless...

Her eyes widened again. She knew how to lessen Caius’s anger: deliver the new alpha vampire.

She rushed through the back door and reentered the club. If she could move fast enough and deliver the head of the anonymous vamp to Caius, she would be that much closer to gaining his trust. One step closer to destroying the scumbag who’d murdered her family.

Pushing her way through the club patrons, she headed toward the private room. She weaved in and out of the crowd to avoid Caius’s gaze. Once she reached the curtained entrance, she pulled her Smith & Wesson from her jacket. Always loaded with silver bullets, her rounds sure wouldn’t kill a vampire, but they
would
inflict a serious wound, enough to make the leech pause.

She quickly slipped inside. With her eyes already adjusted to the darkness from being outside, she searched through the dimness, gun aimed.

No one.

She stepped farther into the empty room.

The end of a gun barrel pushed against her skull. The small click of the hammer sent adrenaline pumping through her body. Her heart thumped hard against her chest.

Positioned at the end of a vampire’s gun.

Royally screwed didn’t even begin to cover it.

* * *

D
AMON
HELD
THE
Desert Eagle without a single ounce of fear in his body. If there was one thing he was excellent at, it was staying detached in intense situations. He wasn’t used to dealing with vampiresses, but there was a first time for everything.

He held the gun steady, resting right against her skull. “Drop your weapon.”

With slow tentative movements, she spread her arm to her sides, so he could see the firearm. She released the magazine clip, and it fell onto the floor before she dropped the gun.

He increased the pressure on the base of her skull. “Names. All the high-ups in the Rochester nests.”

In a risky decision, she spun away from his gun, grabbing hold of his hand and digging her long fingernails into his metacarpals. A very smooth martial arts move. He let her go and released the gun, not from the pain, but from the reassurance of his silver dagger. Giving her a false sense of accomplishment could work in his favor. With quick agility, she threw a roundhouse kick. He blocked the blow from his face, but the force of her attack gave him pause.

She was strong and an impressive fighter, but she was no match for him. He grabbed hold of her leg and twisted. She lost her balance, toppling toward the ground, but he caught her midfall, holding her.

With precision, he pulled his dagger from his sleeve and forced it against her throat. Not enough to make her bleed, just so she could feel its presence. He had to know for certain if she was a vampire. He couldn’t bring himself to harm a woman without being sure.

She stopped struggling. Smart.

He backed her into the corner nearest the light switch. If he got lucky and she was angry or afraid enough, her irises would reveal the answer to him. “Turn around.”

She did as she was told. He pushed her body against the wall with his own, the dagger still at her throat. With his free hand, he flipped the switch.

Then wished he hadn’t.

Damon’s breath rushed from his lungs, and his heart skipped several beats. Adrenaline kicked into his system like a tidal wave. Every inch of his skin electrified. He was a live wire, all senses enhanced and awake from their deadened state. His arousal was instantaneous as the sweet smell of her perfume hit his nose. She smelled like baked cinnamon apples, autumn spices, vanilla and sweet, sweet sex.

He’d never been one to stop and take in the beauty of the world, but he was certain that her face was more gorgeous than anything he’d ever laid eyes on. Her thick dark brown hair fell just past her shoulders, and from that he recognized her as the woman from the bar. His eyes trailed over that gorgeous hair, which stopped just above a pair of ample breasts that pushed against him. Her slender frame felt amazing against his body.

But what completely entranced him was her stare. A pair of large honey-colored eyes rimmed with dark layers of full lashes gazed up at him. A slight hint of fear showed behind her irises, mixed with the drive to fight, and he immediately hated himself for being the one to put that fear there. He cursed silently. What was wrong with him? He never regretted terrifying bloodsuckers, and she wasn’t even afraid enough to give him the answer he sought. He cursed himself again. God, she was gorgeous. Vampiresses were impressive beauties, but no woman he’d ever seen, human or vampire, compared to her.

No.
He snapped his attention into focus.

He wouldn’t be distracted. He clenched his jaw and crushed his own desire. How could he be thinking of sex? Mark was a vampire, and it was his fault. His own neglect had killed his closest friend—more than once. It was his fault Caius had stolen Mark’s life. If he’d only staked Mark as an extra precaution before the building exploded, Mark wouldn’t...

He pushed all his feelings deep inside himself, where there was no escape. His focus wouldn’t be broken, not again. He had three tasks he needed to accomplish: kill Caius to avenge Mark’s death, end the gruesome killings plaguing Rochester’s streets...and murder his best friend.

He would not let her faze him. His brain fought to concentrate, but his body was saying otherwise. Not once had he ever had this problem. Well, not since
she
refused to answer his letters.

He wished he could end it right then, draw the blade across her throat and free himself from the agony of wanting her. He scowled, disgusted with himself. Wanting a vampire? The thought made his stomach churn. But bloodsucker or not, he’d never laid a hand on a woman, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to change that now. Unless an innocent life was in danger, he doubted he could bring himself to do it, and his life was far from innocent.

Still, something in his gut protested that he needed to know for sure what she was, and there was one sure way.

He shook his head. The sight of her Mark of Caine would shock him back to normal. To the version of himself that had little interest in women when there was a job at stake—and there always was, especially now.

“Turn,” he said. When she didn’t move, he increased the pressure on her neck. “Turn around.”

With a glare of pure hate in her eyes, she turned away from him.

Before she could escape, he locked his arms around her, pressing her back against his body. He held the knife to the front of her throat and forced her to bend over. If the mark was there, he wouldn’t hesitate to use the necessary force to get answers from her. Then, female or not, he would do what he had to do.

As his gaze trailed the length of her spine, he caught himself admiring the curve of her ass. Her round behind rubbed against him. Holy smokes... Had he ever wanted a woman so badly? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been interested in sex.

No distractions.
He was weak, selfish. Stupid.

Need raced through his veins while he lifted the hem of her black tank top. He hooked two fingers beneath the edge of her leather pants, then slid them down an inch. The two cute dimples just above her ass were enough to leave him wanting for days, but her skin was smooth and unmarred.

No mark. A female vampire’s Mark of Caine always appeared on her lower back. He blinked several times. He found himself at a loss for words. “Where’s your...?”

“My what? My vamp stamp? News flash, buddy, I don’t have one.”

That she even knew what a “vamp stamp” was gave him pause. He released her shirt and allowed her to stand up straight, but he maintained the knife at her neck. An odd sense of relief washed over him, and he immediately chastised himself. Whether she was human or not, he had a job to do. “Who are you, and why are you wielding a gun in a dark room in a known vampire club?”

She shook her head. “Tell me who you are, and then maybe I’ll consider sharing.”

He pressed the sharp blade against her skin, reminding her of its presence. He didn’t have the patience for this. “I’m the one with the knife,” he said.

She stood completely still, nothing but the rise and fall of her chest giving away her agitation. “Touché.”