Синтия Иден - Eternal Hunter

Her scent . He’d never smelled anything like it. Roses. Soft, subtle. And…more. An alluring, haunting scent of woman.

She didn’t smell like an animal. Didn’t give off the wild, rich scent of female shifters.

But the minute he’d seen her, the minute he’d caught her fragrance in the air, his whole body had stiffened.

And he’d gotten the biggest hard-on of his life. There was something there. He knew it.

“Oh, hell, she’s Other .” Dee curled her lip. “I swear, you guys are taking over the city.”

Yeah, they were.

“What is she? Witch? Djinn? One of those charmers?”

Jude didn’t speak. Because he didn’t know.

“A vampire?” Ice dripped from her voice. Dee hated the vamps. Her mission in life was to exterminate as many of them as she could.

Not that he blamed her, really. A vampire master had slaughtered her family years ago.

Dee was real big on the “eye for an eye” mentality.

“I don’t…think so.” Erin’s skin had been flushed with color. Kissed by the sun. Vamps were usually paler than, well, death.

The lady had been a real looker. Coal black hair, thick, spilling to her shoulders. Red lips. Cheeks almost brutally sharp. Eyes wide and gold. And a little black mole near the corner of her left eye.

Great body. High breasts. Round hips. Long, long legs.

Sexy.

Tall, slender, she’d walked with confidence, grace.

Until she’d seen him.

Then he’d watched her stumble, for just a moment.

Because she’d sensed what I am.

Only another shifter should have been able to sense him.

“She didn’t smell like a shifter,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. Hell, he shouldn’t even be worrying about this now. He should be sleeping. Drinking. Congratulating himself on another job well done.

Not obsessing over a woman who clearly wasn’t interested in him.

Yeah, ’cause smelling a woman, sniffing her like a freaking dog — that was the way to get a date.

“Just let me know if you hear anything about her, okay?” he finally said.

A cautious nod.

“Thanks, Dee.” He closed his eyes…and saw Erin.

Shit. He needed to get a life.

He needed to take a life. Needed to kill. Needed to feel the sweet trickle of life being washed away.

The Slasher, Bobby Burrows, waited just behind the bars. There he stood, stalking around and muttering about evil and devils and hell.

And annoying the hell out of him.

That bastard had been on the news for the last two nights.

Bobby’s fat, ugly face had been splashed across the screen — making him sick.

Bobby Burrows didn’t deserve fifteen minutes of fame. He deserved a trip to the grave.

Bobby grabbed the bars of his cell. Tightened his thick hands into straining fists around the metal and screamed, “ The fuckin’ devil marked me! I want reporters in here, I want my lawyer, I want—”

“Relax.” He sidled closer to Bobby, finally stepping out of the shadows he loved so much and smiling. He jerked his thumb toward the group of guards who were watching television near the entrance to the cages.

Cages. That’s what he called ’em. To keep the animals inside.

But sometimes, the cages couldn’t hold the animals.

He drew in a deep breath and caught the scent of the man’s sweat and blood. “They’re not gonna help you.” They were too busy huddling up and watching a game to give a shit about the guy left in holding. He smiled and hoped he didn’t look too hungry. “But I will.”

Bobby squinted at him. The left side of his face was covered by a large, white bandage. “What? Who are you?”

His hands rose to the bars, reached for Bobby’s—

The Slasher jumped back.

Ah…not as stupid as he looked. “Why don’t you tell me who hurt you, Bobby?”

“I–I did. The devil—”

“The devil’s not real.” He’d never seen him. Judgment wasn’t for the afterlife. It was for here and now, to be delivered by the strong.

“Yes, he is.” Absolute certainty. “Found me in the swamp. Changed before me. I shot the bastard, but he still came after me.” He licked his lips. “Then he cut me.”

The bars were so thin. Not nearly strong enough to keep him out.

But strong enough to trap the human inside.

“He let you live, didn’t he? I don’t think the devil would do that.”

“He’s a monster!” Spittle flew from Bobby’s mouth. “Hiding behind the face of a man. That fuckin’ hunter! Pretendin’, he’s pretendin’!”

“We all pretend,” he told him softly, aware of the excitement burning through his gut. He didn’t have any more time to waste. “It’s how we live.” His hands flew through the gap in the bars. His right hand locked around the Slasher’s throat.

A wheeze slipped past Bobby’s lips.

Smiling, he jerked the human’s head to the right. He heard the sharp snap of bones.

And felt a rush of power as the man sagged in his grip.

Slowly, his left hand rose. He cast a glance back toward the guards. They were still glued to their TV.

Fucking oblivious humans.

Claws pushed from the ends of his fingertips. He raised his left hand and plunged the claws into Bobby’s heart.

As the blood flowed, a soft sigh escaped his lips.

No way was the media going to be able to overlook this kill.

He’d be taking over the news now.

Jude got the call from the police station forty-five minutes later. A cop who owed him a favor tipped him off.

The call was brief, and the details came fast. Burrows was dead. The ADA was on her way.

And, oh, yeah, it looked like an animal had attacked the guy — while he was locked up. Of course, the cops hadn’t seen a thing. Bobby had been all alone in holding one minute, then sliced and diced the next.

Jude grabbed his jacket. Slung it over his shoulder — almost healed now. He ran for the door.

And ignored Dee’s shout behind him.

“You don’t want to see the body.”

His voice, even deeper now, stopped her as Erin began to climb the steps leading to the police station and to the dead man.

She glanced back over her shoulder. She’d caught his scent seconds before he’d spoken. “How do you even know there’s a body here, Donovan?” The District Attorney’s office had received the call less than fifteen minutes ago. Just how had the hunter learned about the death?

Suspicion had her eyes narrowing. “You didn’t—”

He jumped up the steps. Grabbed her arms. “I didn’t kill the bastard, no. If I’d killed him, well, he would’ve been left in the swamp and been gator bait by now.”

Erin swallowed. Nice, to, ah, know . “Then why are you here?”

“Same as you. I want to know what happened to the Slasher.”

Her eyes narrowed. You don’t want to see the body . “Sounds to me like you already know.” Which meant she had a leak in the department. Not surprising. Not particularly good news, either.

His wide shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Trust me on this, you don’t want to see Bobby Burrows right now.”

She licked her lips. “And, trust me, I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” Not like it was her first murder scene. Not by a long shot. She was twenty-nine years old, and she’d been working the rough cases since she’d passed the bar years ago.

To make a difference, sometimes you had to get your hands dirty.

Erin turned and continued stalking up the stone steps. Jude shadowed her moves, his body a ripple of muscle.

His scent filled the air around them.