Page 33 of Shadow Hunter

This time the ludicrousness of the nickname filled her with a cathartic sort of glee. Made her chuckle despite herself. Maybe, just maybe, if she gave into her desires, she could allow herself to hope once more.

She hadn’t felt so much as an ounce of that since Mark, since B.

And if all it took to reclaim that was a night with a handsome stranger.

Well, she was going to make the most of it, damn it.

“Damon,” she asked, stepping closer to him.

“Yeah, Shortcake?”

She placed a hand on his chest. “What would I say if I asked you to kiss me?”

Damon watchedTiffany step away from him, his fingers buzzing with that now familiar electricity that happened whenever their skin connected. He bit his lower lip, watching her slowly retreat. He hadn’t meant to put her on the slab and expose her like that. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable. But the look in her eyes said he’d seen right through her, exposed her thoroughly, and for the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize for fully understanding her. For seeing her, truly.

Not without revealing himself as B.

She cleared her throat, acting as if he hadn’t nearly made her cry, which seemed so very her. From what he’d gathered, she wasn’t the type of person to show any weakness.

That much was clear.

“I’d say that you promised to behave tonight,” he growled. “And so did I.”

“Did I?” she asked, a spark lighting in her eyes in the most wicked way.

He shook his head, reveling in the way she sighed a little. Their conversation had left her vulnerable, and while he wished there was a time and place for him to know her like that, it wasn’t here.

“Fine,” she said, accepting defeat. “Tell me why you brought him back here.” She gestured toward the dead man.

“To examine him.” The conversation was little more than a distraction, but he’d allow her this reprieve. She’d more than earned it with all he’d put her through tonight.

Ducking into his downstairs bathroom, he returned a moment later with his scalpel.

“That your idea of a fun evening?” Tiffany said, her eyes darting to the tool as she smirked.

“Not quite.” He grinned.

The medical grade instrument had saved his sorry ass a time or two, letting him avoid unnecessary trips to the E.R. Nothinglike explaining why you had a bullet wound in your shoulder to open up exactly the kind of investigation he didn’t need.

“Okay, I’ll play.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Do I even want to ask why you keep a scalpel in your bathroom?”

He shrugged. “It’s useful if you get something lodged in you. Glass, bullets, whatever.”

“How about that colossal stick up your ass?” she teased, the humor in her voice instantly making him pleased.

“Okay, I’ll admit, I walked right into that one,” he said.

“That happen a lot to you?”

He glanced toward her, and she nodded toward the blade. “The bullet wounds I mean.”

“Comes with the job.” He ran the scalpel from the dead man’s sternum to his navel before he glanced at Tiffany.

All the color drained from her face, leaving her skin with a slight greenish tinge before she gulped.

He nodded over his shoulder, trying to hide a smile. “Bathroom, if you need it.”

She frowned. “Don’t get haughty. It’s different seeing it for real, that’s all.”

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