Michele Hauf - The Vampire Hunter

It was always the middle stuff that screwed up the relationship. Secrets were revealed, bad habits discovered, kinky quirks—

Don’t move so quickly forward. Stay in the here and now, Zoë.

And so she would.

Sighing into the kiss, she tilted her body toward Kaz’s aggressive stance and as their hips met, he drew his fingers down her spine, coaxing her even closer with his touch. Chest to chest, she melted against his heat and strength. He made her feel delicate and pretty and so, so desirable.

A girl could become bewitched by such a kiss. And a bewitched witch was certainly a rare thing.

I want to know bewitchment.

Kaz slowly pulled away, holding her gaze as if the connection of their lips could continue in their eyes. As his thumb traced the scar on her cheek, he studied it, but didn’t say anything or ask the usual questions. She didn’t mind answering, but was impressed that he wasn’t so hung up on the outer surface. Or maybe he was being polite.

Finally, he exhaled, stepped back and tucked away the weapon inside his coat.

“Thanks for the kisses. I’ve work to do,” he declared in that deep, commanding tone that cued her to nod and touch her kiss-burnished lips.

He skipped down the stairs, leaving her floating on a euphoric cloud of desire and wonder, and stretching out a proverbial hand for him to return to her arms.

She was on her way to happily ever after. Her rescuing knight needed to get on the same page as her.

Once at the door, Kaz called up, “I’ll be back!”

“Uh...” What to say to make him stay?

After the front door shut, Zoë fisted the air and growled. Way to drop the ball. She’d had him, and then she had not. He’d wandered out as casually and as quickly as he had appeared.

She shifted her body against the spell-room door, bending her legs to squat, and sat with her legs sprawled out across the floor. Sid nuzzled against her thigh, rubbing a kitty hug along her black pants.

She touched her mouth, still warm from Kaz’s remarkable kisses. She could feel him there and imagined the sensation would not soon leave. Not if she fixed it to memory. Memory was a special kind of magic that anyone could access but few could master. The key was in sorting the good memories from the bad and never letting them intertwine.

She had her share of bad memories. A mother gone too soon, a father forced to leave her life, a friend who had once been a tormentor. But some new memories were forming, and those could only be filed under “spectacular.”

Standing on his back legs, Sid nudged his head along her jaw until Zoë patted him and pulled the fat ball of fur onto her lap to snuggle.

“That man certainly knows how to kiss, Sid. And he will be back, because he won’t be able to stop thinking about me. And that’s not magic, that’s just—” she sighed “—wishful thinking.”

Sid agreed with a meow.

And Zoë decided that the bewitchment had commenced.

* * *

Kaz double-stepped it down the sidewalk that paralleled the street before the Moulin Rouge. The red-and-gold neon lights spinning round the iconic mill wheel flashed across the faces of passersby. As he turned to walk along a row of buildings that reflected the pink, green and yellow neon, he spied the informant he had earlier in the day arranged to meet walking across the Boulevard de Clichy.

He knew he was late. He should count his luck the vamp was still in the area.

Hustling and turning the corner by the Magnum club, Kaz gained on the vampire, who strolled down the Rue Lepic, hands in his pockets, oblivious to the stares he received from the passing women dressed for a night of flirtation and fun. Kaz could have called out, but he wasn’t stupid. Shuffling around a couple walking hand in hand, he landed beside the vampire and slowed his stride.

“You’re late,” the vampire said, not glancing aside.

“Apologies. I got sidetracked.”

Sidetracked kissing a gorgeous kleptomaniac. She could roam those sticky fingers all over him so long as she didn’t steal the merchandise.

And why the hell hadn’t he turned tail and run from her arms? He never followed a woman he’d just met around like a puppy dog. That was not his MO. The job always came first.

“Don’t rush off,” he tried. “I need a few minutes of your time.”

The vampire stopped before a black Aston Martin. Kaz eyed the gorgeous vehicle and deeply regretted his decision to remain carless.

“V12 Zagato,” the vamp offered. “Hot off the production line less than a month ago.”

The curves were insane, not to mention the deep color inlaid with mica flecks that captured the glowing neon lights and flashed like some kind of supernatural conveyance.

“That is—was—a sweet ride,” Kaz corrected as his gaze landed on the smashed front quarter panel, and followed the scrape that arced over the wheel well to end in a crunched side mirror.

“Still is sweet,” the vampire offered. “Just a few dents.”

Dents? More like a major crash. Kaz couldn’t believe the tire was still attached to the axle, let alone in the shape of a circle.

“Get in before someone sees me talking to you, hunter.”

Thankful for the invite, Kaz slid inside the car and had to bend his knees and shift a hip to the side to fit properly. He almost reached to adjust the seat back, but a man never touched another man’s car unless he was directed to do so. Folding his hands across his knees and curling his shoulders slightly forward, he decided to mark this particular model off his wish list. Not that he needed a car to get around Paris. The Metro served him just fine. And a hunter who took the time to find a parking spot would never claim a kill.

Before he could ask a question, Kaz suddenly remembered an important detail about this particular vampire.

Twisting a frantic look over his shoulder, he scanned the backseat, down to the floor and then up along the center divider, and somehow managed to check near his feet, though it was difficult to bend too far forward.

“Green Snake is at home,” the vampire provided. “Chill out, man. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of reptiles?”

Kaz dropped his shoulders, yet they remained slightly curled forward in the cozy confines. “I don’t like surprise reptiles, is all.”

The first time he’d met the vampire, a green mamba snake had curled about his ankle as he’d unknowingly sat in the back of a limousine talking about local vampire tribes. Those things were poisonous. Apparently, though, not to vampires.

“So, Vail—”

“No names!”

He met the vampire’s blue gaze, and did not miss the warning glint of fang between his compressed lips.

“Fine. Sorry.”

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t talked to Vaillant before, and had once even had a drink with him at the Lizard Lounge, sans reptiles. Kaz made a premeditated choice to cater to this vampire’s quirks to stay on his good side. Besides, they weren’t all evil.

“So, Mysterious, Dark-Haired Man Who Has Never Taken A Driving Lesson And Who Wants to Give Me Information, what do you have for me?”

Vail tapped the steering wheel with fingers bejeweled in dark metal and diamonds. Black clothed him from boots to slicked-back hair. He was a vampire who had grown up in Faery (not by choice) and had returned to the mortal realm to claim a dysfunctional family (including a werewolf twin brother) and a faery dust addiction. He was supposedly clean now. If anyone had a finger on the pulse of what was going on with vampires and the dust connection, it was Vaillant.

“This dust blend you told me about is very new.”

“Weeks,” Kaz said. “Just hitting the market. Not many know about it.”

“Exactly. Not sure there even is a market for it yet. When I mention the purple stuff fellow vamps give me a wonky look. Though the one vamp who did know what it was called it Magic Dust. And he was anxious for more. Had to beat him off with a stick.”