Page 11 of Shadow Hunter

Though she glanced down and to the left when she lied—a classic sign for many people and overly predictable. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.

“What’s your real name?” he growled, punctuating each word slowly, hoping, praying that she said something other than he expected she would.

Her jaw clenched, her anger at her current position apparent in her eyes when she finally said, “Tiffany Solow.”

The air rushed from Damon’s lungs. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to shake with anger. He deserved the massive beating the universe had just dished out to him with the news about Mark. But this?

No one deserved this.

For the one thing he wanted more than life itself to be dangled under his nose, when he knew without a doubt, he couldn’t have it. Couldn’t have her.

What the hell were the chances? Rochester was a huge city. Though itwasher hometown. But what was she doing hunting vamps?

Memories flashed through his head in a nonstop pulse, the result of which had led him here, to this moment. His training officer’s voice rang in his ears.

“Brock, see a therapist or find someone to tie yourself to. Pronto!”

With no family to support him, Damon had been deemed at risk of “low morale” by Headquarters. They didn’t want to risk him becoming some kind of cold-hearted killer, so they’d covered their asses by insisting on “therapeutic ties.” Rather than see the resident psychologist, he’d opted for Choice B: to forge a bond, anonymously, with someone outside the organization. He’d preferred to write a few bullshit letters to a stranger than have the psychiatrist at Headquarters record his every thought. He already lived and breathed whenever Headquarters told him to. He didn’t need them inside his head, too. And being his usual self, Mark had volunteered to help and contacted his baby sister.

Headquarters was all about “family contacts.” At least in the paperwork.

Because she’d known already that vampires existed, because Tiffany had lost her parents to a vampire attack and had a hunter for a brother, there had been no security breaches involved inwriting to her. According to the Headquarters, it also benefited her to know there were other hunters out there, aside from her brother, keeping her safe at night. It was damage control, really.

Headquarters called it personalization and bond forging. He called it a load of shit. Like he’d needed any more incentive to do what he’d been trained to do. He would never forget the first letter he wrote to her.

Tiffany,

They say I need to write someone, so here it is.

Yours truly,

B

Fuck,he’d been an ass. Arrogant and dismissive, but still, she’d replied with a nearly ten-page tome telling him all about herself. Little did he know when he’d signed that first damn letter “yours truly,” he really would be hers.

In a matter of weeks, she’d clutched his heart in her hands.

The last picture Mark had shown him of Tiffany, she’d been only nineteen, long before Mark’s death...before everything fell to shit...before she grew to hate Damon. Now she was twenty-two. He met her gaze and took in the breathtaking woman standing before him.

Mark had loved her more than anything in the world. She’d been the only family he had left, and he would have wanted her cared for, protected. Not in the line of fire of the same vampire who had killed him. Damon lowered his eyes. How could he look her in the face when he held the blame for her brother’s death? And if she knew Mark had turned...

No.He shut that thought down immediately.

She would never know. Damon had sworn to Mark that if he were ever turned, he would drive the stake through Mark’sheart himself. A small part of him would die as he did it, but his promise stood firm. But she couldn’t know any of that, which meant he needed to get her out of Club Fantasy, away from Caius. Then and only then, could he deal with Mark.

He glanced down at her once more. An overwhelming need to protect her surged through him, along with the need to pull her into his arms, a need so deep he felt it to his bones.

Maybe he should…

No.

Without a doubt, he couldn’t act on whatever this…this feeling for her was. Couldn’t tell her the truth. Beg for her forgiveness. Try to give them a second chance. No matter how much he wanted it. Not only for the sake of his job, but because he owed that much to Mark’s memory.

Taking Mark’s sister into his bed? He might as well spit on his friend’s grave.

From the wary way, she was watching him, she didn’t have even a passing suspicion of who he really was. She’d never met him in person after all, never seen his face. There was no way she would recognize him, and it needed to stay that way. Not even his true name would give him away. Revealing his full identity had been against the rules during their correspondence, which meant he could protect her anonymously and nothing more.

He inhaled a deep breath to cool his head, and tried not to think of how sweet her voice would sound saying his name. No.

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