Page 32 of Shadow Hunter

Sure, it was because she was untrained. Right.

“How many times have you come that close to death?” he asked, the question causing her to go still.

She stared at the floor.

“How many times, Tiffany?”

For a moment, she debated whether to answer him, but something inside her told her he was safe. That whatever she told him, he’d treat her like she mattered.

“Lots, okay?” She spun to face him. “You’re just like my brother, acting as if I can’t handle myself.”

“I am nothing like your brother,” he said, his words taking on a new kind of heat.

Her breath quickened a little. “Then why do you act like I can’t hold my own?”

Something dark sparked behind Damon’s eyes, something she couldn’t interpret. “Because you can’t.”

“I’m not weak. I’m not a victim.” Her hands balled into fists.

“You’re right. You’re not. So stop acting like it.” Damon walked toward her, his boots clomping against the hardwood floor. He towered over her, staring down into her eyes. If she’d been a weaker woman, she might have been intimidated, but she refused to back down. “I see you for exactly what you are, Shortcake.”

His tone remained calm, even despite the clear frustration behind his words. “Vampires are stronger and faster than even the most powerful human. Being a woman has nothing to do with it. Being untrained on top of being ahumanis what makes you incapable of fighting, not your gender. The vampire in that alleyway was nothing compared to a vampire who has lived eventwenty years, let alone hundreds, thousands. The bloodsucker we fought tonight couldn’t have been a vampire for more than a few days, and still he would have bested you...”

She looked away from him.

He let out a long sigh and held her chin gently in his hands, forcing her to face him. Even when he was covered in blood and dirt, his touch sent electrifying waves through her, and as mad as she was, she wished she could kiss him again. Internally, she cursed herself. She didn’t know this man. She still wasn’t even sure why he was so intent on protecting her.

“Tiffany, look at me.”

She did as he asked, studying the contours of his face. He seemed so familiar, and yet, she couldn’t place where she’d ever seen him before. Sometimes, the way his eyes met hers it…it felt like he was an old friend she hadn’t seen in years. His presence was both tantalizing and comforting. Enough it made her chest ache.

Enough to fill her with a longing for all the things she’d missed out on with B.

She felt herself start to break at the thought.

But Damon was there to catch her, steadying her with those intense eyes of his, even as she wished he’d pull her into his arms.

“Stop flirting with death, Shortcake. I can tell by looking at you that’s why you’re doing this. Only someone with a suicide wish would try to fight a battle they know they can’t win.”

A lump blocked her throat, and she fought hard to keep her eyes from watering. She blinked to hold back the tears, tearing her gaze from him in hope he wouldn’t notice. But Damon cupped her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man so gruff and strong.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away from him.

No one had ever said something so blunt to her before. Had ever seen straight through to the heart of her, been so right about her motivations—not even her brother. No one...

...except B.

Even though she’d never met him.

She’d been asked to correspond with him to give him something to hold onto in tough times, but in those letters, he’d been her savior, but now, with no more letters cluttering her mailbox…he seemed like a distant dream.

And the man before her?

Well, he was nothing more than a beautiful distraction from the pain. Or so it seemed.

Even if looking at him made her chest ache.

“What are you thinking there, Shortcake?” he asked. “Talk to me.”

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