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ONE
“She’s the chick with the vamp-killing blood?”
The loud voice pulled me out of a thick cloud of nightmares about pale-skinned monsters with sharp teeth and claws. I opened my eyes wide and stared up at the peeling white paint on the motel room’s ceiling.
“Yeah, her name’s Jill,” was the reply. Both voices—one familiar and one not—came from outside, and I could hear them clearly through the thin door.
“So, what are you? Like, her protector or something?”
“Something like that.”
“Shit, man. You’re not forgetting you’re half vampire, right? What if you get a taste of her? Will it kill you, too?”
“I don’t drink blood, so I’m not planning on finding out.”
I slipped out of the lumpy bed and moved toward the window to the left of the door so I could peek outside. The view was the same as it had been for three days—a very unglamorous gray cement parking lot with a dying twenty-foot-tall palm tree blocking my view of the main street.
Declan Reyes stood with his back to the green door, his profile clearly visible to me. He’d lost his left eye a long time ago, and the damage was covered by a black eye patch. His face was scarred around that patch from old injuries, just like the rest of his body. Dhampyrs like Declan—half human and half vampire—healed fast, but scarred from every flesh wound they received. They also didn’t have the benefits of immortality like a vampire did. Thanks to his human side, Declan was every bit as mortal as I was.
He had his arms crossed over his chest, and he faced a darkhaired man only a couple inches short of his six-four. The man looked tough, like a bouncer or a bodyguard.
Or, more likely, a vampire hunter.
Declan had said he was going to contact one of his old pals here in Los Angeles to see if he could help us out. This must have been the pal in question. Nice of him to make house calls.
The idea of anyone else getting involved with my problems didn’t set my mind at ease, but I was trying not to complain. I’d recently become extremely guarded about my privacy. It was safer that way.
The man’s lips parted to show straight white teeth as he grinned. “Wait. I think I get it. You’re doing her, aren’t you?”
“Doing her?” Declan replied dryly.
His smile widened. “Got to say, I’m surprised. Rumor had it that you were . . . uh, how do I put it?”
“What?”
“Neutered. Don’t take it the wrong way, but that’s what I heard. That serum you were on before—the shit that kept your vamp side at bay—I heard it fucked with your libido. Always wondered why you were never that interested in hitting the titty bars with me. I guess now I know, right?”
Declan glared at him without speaking, and I gripped the window ledge, worried that there would be a fight between them. This was one of Declan’s friends? He sounded like a Grade-A asshole, enough to make my skin crawl.
I actually jumped when Declan laughed a second later. It was a humorless sound.
“My sex life is none of your fucking business, Jackson.”
“I’ll take that as an affirmative.” Jackson was laughing, too. “What about the permanent drug you’re on now? Does that—”
“It works the same as before. Actually, it feels even stronger than the other one. I’m with Jill to keep her safe until we find a way to get the Nightshade formula out of her blood.” Declan’s jaw tensed. “That’s all.”
“So you’re not fucking her.”
“It’s none of your damn business either way. But no.”
Jackson’s shit-eating grin didn’t waver. “But you have. No wonder you’re so into this chick. Memories of a great lay can fuel a guy for a long damn time. I bet she’s hot. When can I meet her?”
“She’s sleeping.”
I pushed open the door, leveling my gaze with the nosy hunter I’d already decided to dislike. “I’m awake now. Hard to have an afternoon nap when there’s so much testosterone flying around.”
“You heard all that?” Jackson scanned the length of me. I’d slept in jeans and a black tank top so I was already fully dressed.
