Page 25 of Fanged Temptation

I gave her my best devious smile. Back at High Stakes headquarters, when Hunter had hurried away to take a mysterious phone call, I’d followed her – I’d listened. Then I’d subjected her to two minutes of pestering and she’d spilled the juicy details. Details that I relayed to a stone-faced Dylan.

“A few weeks ago, you called Hunter to ask her about her experience of being turned into a vampire. In fact, you called her quite often asking for advice.” I scrubbed the smugness frommy tone, softening my words as I reached for her shoulder. “So, how’s Amara doing?”

Dylan stared me down, and then sighed. “So you do know everything.”

“I know you’ve turned Amara,” I confirmed, tilting my head to the side. “She’s not doing well?”

“She’s doing a little better now.” Dylan folded her arms, concern coloring her confession. “I’m just… worried. Jordan turned Hunter and Sky without a hitch, but I – I’ve never done this before. I’m worried I did it wrong.”

“I think you’re overthinking this, Dylan.” I tried for a tentative hug, and was fairly surprised when she leaned into it. “She’s going to feel like hell for a little while, but that will pass. And then you’ll have an eternity to look forward to together.”

“An eternity together.” Her voice was a murmur as she propped her chin on my head, and I tightened my arms around her. “That’s a nice thought.”

It was. And though I could not admit it out loud, my heart knew that I wanted it too. An eternity with someone special, to make up for all the years that we lost.

The night air was cool against my skin as I left the comforting clamor of the underground bar, heading back to Leah’s boat and struggling to come up with a plausible story about where I’d been.

The streets were quiet, muted under the cloak of darkness, and street lamps cast hazy halos of light over my head. My footsteps ricocheted around the vacant avenue, loud tap-tap-tapson the pavement as I picked up the pace.

I kept my head down, skirting down the sidewalk with my collar turned up, and wished for the umpteenth time that I’d asked Dylan to escort me home. But then I’d have to explain what the hell I was doing living on a houseboat, and who I was hiding from in the first place.

In the silence, a prickling sensation crawled up my spine – that unmistakable feeling of being watched.

I quickened my pace, head swiveling to scan the shadows that seemed to thicken around me, swallowing the faint glow of the streetlights. The buildings to my left and right stared back, vacant windows like ominous eyes tracing my every step.

I jerked at a sound to my right, and glanced down the alleyway. A small ginger street cat disappeared into the dark, scuttling footsteps fading as it went. I breathed a stilted sigh of relief and turned away – and my breath caught in my throat.

It was her.

The waxy woman from the mall.

She stood motionless on the sidewalk across the street, still as death, those empty eyes – too wide, too glassy – fixed on me.

I froze. I forgot to breathe, forgot to blink.

There was something distinctlyoffabout her. She lacked those subtle movements, the minute expressions that flicker across a face. She was an uncanny amalgamation of human parts with no real life behind those flawless features.

I took a small, hesitant step backward and, like I’d triggered an invisible tripwire, she moved.

Shesprintedtoward me, a streaking blur of silver in the dark.

Panic surged through my veins, propelling me, begging me to run. And I did. My mind raced as fast as my legs, weaving through alleyways, darting around corners, and hurtling over trash cans in a desperate attempt to lose her.

My heart pounded in my chest, my every step echoing off the narrow walls. Over the rushing in my ears and my own laboredbreathing, I could hear the near-silent footfalls of the wax-model woman. The nightmare hot on my heels. Catching up.

I couldn’t outrun her. But maybe you don’t have to.

I took another corner with screeching heels and halted abruptly, gritty asphalt scraping under my shoes as I spun around to meet her.

As predicted, the woman, driven by whatever unnatural force animated her, raced around the corner at full speed, an untraceable smear of silver. Without a second’s hesitation, I pivoted my heel, coiled my strength, and threw a punch with all the force of my vampiric heritage.

The impact was jarring. My fist connected with her face, and the sound was nothing like hitting flesh – it was softer, muffled, like punching a pillow. The force sent her sprawling backward, and she hit the ground hard.

When she raised her head I blanched, backing up until my shoulders hit the wall behind me.

Her face had dented inward, the skin warped around the distinct shape of my fist, like soft wax molded under pressure. One of her eyes had been pressed shut, the other bulged outward, one good shake away from popping out entirely.

I steadied myself against the wall, panting, my words scraping out with effort. "Who are you?"

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