The great gray beast merely stood its ground.
Great, just great! Grabbing her sword, she swung around and headed down the dark road, hoping that no one would find her car sitting idly, the keys in the ignition, the engine turned off, but the door wide open, beckoning, “Take me, please!” She could just envision explaining to her insurance agent what had happened.
Hopefully, no one would miss seeing her on the dark road—should someone happen to drive by—and run her over because she wasn’t visible enough.
She glanced over her shoulder and glowered at the beast. He hadn’t moved an inch. “Bad wolf!” she tossed back and stomped in her wobbly heels along the dark road that grew darker as the car grew smaller in the distance.
Before it was out of sight, she looked back one more time. The wolf still stood guarding her car. The headlights reflected off the mist, making him appear eerily ghostly from this distance. Letting her breath out in a huff, she stormed in the direction she thought she’d left the club behind.
With the way her luck was going, the club wouldn’t be there when she got back.
Chapter 4
In the parking lot of the popular century-old vampire club, Atreides asked again, “Twilight, what are you doing out here?” Though he suspected she was meeting with a vampire, who didn’t wish his mate to know he was having a fling with the human host.
She shrugged. “I was about to enter the club when I saw the huntress heading for her car and Renault and Colt hassling her. I just wondered if they…” She smiled. “She needed my help.”
Atreides knew the woman would have aided the vampires and not the huntress, as much as she wanted to be accepted by them. She looked like a Goth from the black clothes she wore, to the body piercings and the ebony eye and lip makeup. But as much as she wanted to be like the vampires—even having dental work to add vampire-sized fangs—she was afraid to become one of them. She loved having them feed off her, but she didn’t have the stomach to do the feeding.
Though Atreides knew that would change once she was turned, but Twilight had never wanted to go that far.
“So, who is she and what did she want?” Twilight looped her arm through Atreides’s while he and the other men returned to the club.
“Do you have another question? She’s a huntress. That’s all I know.”
“I’m surprised Basil didn’t throw her out of the club.”
Basil turned and lifted a brow. “The most intriguing creature we’ve had here in ages and definitely the most entertaining? Not on your life.”
When they entered the club, Twilight giggled. “Looks like Iconia’s mad at you, Atreides. She’s dancing with—”
“I see.” Atreides bit back a swear word. Of all the vampires she had to hook up with tonight, did it have to be Ragnar? Dating back to the Viking raiders, the man was still little more than a beast. The blue-eyed, blond Norwegian caught Atreides’s eye and smirked.
Atreides bowed his head and noticed several watched to see his reaction. The Norseman would not provoke him this evening. Atreides motioned to Colt, Renault, and Basil. “A word.”
The four men entered a private lounge area furnished in black leather couches. Basil locked the door, then proceeded to serve the men wine. “What have you learned about this group of rogue hunters, Atreides?”
“That the League of Hunters denies such a group exists. The League insists that the vampire killings were warranted.”
Colt cursed. “They killed four of our women who were no more rogue than any of us are.”
Atreides curled his hands into fists. “I couldn’t agree more. That’s why we’re taking it into our own hands this time. The League be damned.”
“And your brother?” Renault asked. “Surely, Daemon won’t permit us to do anything about this outrage until he returns. He doesn’t want to cause a riff between us and the hunters.”
Atreides scoffed. “He is busy with his huntress.” He shrugged. “While they are away, I’m in charge. By the time he returns, all will be resolved.”
Renault’s lips turned up slightly. “Many years have passed since you were in command of our battle strategies, Atreides. What’s the plan?”
“Five hunters are involved. But we need a lure.”
Colt leaned his bulky figure forward. “I’ll be it.”
Atreides shook his head. “Something sweeter.”
Colt looked at Renault and smiled while Renault scowled back at him.
“You mentioned a huntress before,” Basil offered.
“Yes, a huntress. She’ll be working with our vampiresses, ready to defend them. Of course the vampiresses will warn us. When the men come, they will have us to face, not our vampiresses, who are too weak to fight the hunters’ combined strength. Let them take someone on who is matched in strength and see how superior they are then.”
“And the huntress?” Basil asked.
“She will fight alongside us, to corroborate that we had just cause. I’ve already located the right one.” At least Atreides hoped. If so, he and his brethren could stop the rogue hunters before any more of his kind’s blood could be shed.
For another hour, they discussed plans, but when Atreides heard Iconia screech in the area of the dance floor, he threw open the door to the lounge and hurried to protect her from the Viking brute, Ragnar.
The music had stopped, and everyone was gathered around Iconia so that he couldn’t even see her or what was happening.
“She has returned,” one of the vampires telepathically said.
As soon as Atreides and the others entered the dance floor and he could see what the matter was, his jaw dropped. Iconia was dressing down the huntress, Selena, who glared back at her with contempt, a sword clutched in her fist, the tip resting on the floor.
The huntress said in a high tone of voice—though she needn’t have as the place was deadly quiet and their hearing enhanced, “I have to see Atreides.”
Iconia hissed and grabbed for the huntress’s throat.
The huntress’s eyes flashed hot, but she didn’t raise her sword, and in fact, she looked as though she could barely hold onto it.
“Hold!” Atreides shouted and jerked Iconia’s hand from the huntress’s neck. Grabbing Selena’s wrist, he stalked back to the lounge, though she stumbled after him in her high heels, and he thought he was going to have to carry her. Hell, did the huntress have even more of a death wish than he had first suspected?
Renault winked at him. Colt grinned. Basil swore under his breath and shook his head. Telepathic communication buzzed so thickly, Atreides could only imagine what the frenzy of vampire voices were saying.
He shut the lounge door and then released her. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from here? What the hell are you doing bringing a hunter’s sword in here? Are you suicidal?”
He noticed then that she looked like she’d had a good tumble the way her cheeks were flushed, and her hair tangled, hanging loosely around her face. The color in her cheeks quickly receded, and she looked hauntingly pale.
“Why are you here?” he amended, trying to calm his rage. How would it appear if he had the hots for one of the hunter kind? How could he lead his people if they couldn’t trust him?