Page 7 of Shadow Hunter

Side-stepping, he caught her on the next kick’s rebound, grabbing hold of her leg, before he twisted. She kept her guards up, but her stance was way too open. With her balance lost, she let out a sharp shriek as she stumbled, but he was there to meet her, catching her mid-fall.

Just as he pushed his blade against her throat.

“Motherfu—”

“Are you finished?” he snarled, making sure she felt the blade’s presence.

Not enough to make her bleed, just enough so she wouldn’t forget it.

She went still in his arms.

Good. At least he had her attention now.

“If you want to live, this time don’t make any sudden movements. Got it?”

She swallowed hard, before she gave a reluctant nod.

Slowly, he backed her into the corner nearest the light switch, uncertain of his next move. She was no vamp, that was for sure, not with those shoddy but well-intended moves, yet her amateur training meant she likely wasn’t your run of the mill human either. Maybe a shifter? Though she wasn’t nearly strong enough for that. If he got lucky and she was angry or afraid enough, her irises would reveal the true answer to him.

“Turn around.”

She did as she was told, and he pushed her body against the wall with his own, the dagger still at her throat. With hisfree hand, he did a quick frisk, checking her for more weapons, before he flipped the light switch.

Then wished he hadn’t.

Damon’s breath rushed from his lungs, his heart skipping several beats as adrenaline kicked into his system like a lightning strike. In an instant, every inch of his skin electrified. He was a live wire, all senses enhanced and awakened from their deadened state.

He knew that face.

Had dreamed of it so many times that he almost felt the urge to shake himself to see if he was truly awake.

Tiffany Solow. Mark’s baby sister.

His own fucking Achilles heel.

His gaze raked over her, his cock growing hard as the sweet scent of her perfume hit his nose.No. No.It couldn’t be. Clearly, he was seeing things. He’d only ever seen her in pictures after all, known her through their letters. But fuck, she smelled good. Like baked cinnamon apples, autumn spices, and vanilla. Sweet and desirable. He reached out, his hand poised to brush over the curve of her cheek.

Until she promptly spit in his face.

“You’ve gotta be fucking me,” he snarled, frustration tearing through him.

A smug grin curled her lips. Lips that were far too kissable if you asked him.

He raked a rough hand over his chin, wiping the spittle away, before he pushed closer, his free hand coming to her throat. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?” She lifted one dark brow.

A prolonged beat passed, the air between them thick with tension as she gazed up at him.

They were no more than an inch apart, the rise and fall of her chest matching his own. If he wanted, all he’d need to do was close the distance.

His gaze fell to her lips.

“You gonna kill me or kiss me, asshole?” She lifted her chin in defiance.

A devious smirk twisted his lips. “Haven’t decided.”

She blinked. Clearly, she hadn’t expected him to call her bluff.

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