lie. We can’t.” -
“Whatever.” Mac reached for another cracker, and realized the box was empty. He crumpled it in disgust.
The hound stiffened, pulling away from the fridge to stand straight, his hands half clenched at his sides. “Events are moving quickly. You need to listen.”
Mac threw the box back on the counter, a white haze of frustration flooding his mind. “Screw all that. I need to eat. You wouldn’t like me when I’m hungry.”
The words came out between clenched teeth. The alternative was roaring like a wounded bear. He didn’t want to deal with gods and legends. He had more immediate problems.
Lore edged back, cautious now.
Mac steadied his breath. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it. I’m done with being special. I don’t do destiny.”
“That’s your decision.”
“Damned straight.”
Lore held on to the ensuing silence until Mac met his eyes. Then he carried on as if Mac had been listening intently all along. “Nothing happens without reason. If you’ve been brought back and changed, there’s something you need to do. Something even bigger than rescuing my friend.”
Mac felt irritation bunching his shoulders. “Like what?”
“If the task is yours, you already know.”
“That’s crazy.”
“That’s the way it works.”
“I don’t want to play.”
The hound’s expression went from neutral to icy. “Destiny doesn’t make you special. It’s simply more responsibility.”
“I just want my life back.”
The words, however true, suddenly sounded childish in Mac’s ears. That just made him more annoyed. “Get out of here.”
Disappointment flickered in Lore’s eyes, then vanished as he shuttered his expression. “When you need help, call us.”
He left without another word. From the kitchen, Mac heard the door click shut.
Mac had never asked Lore why he had brought up the prophecy in the first place. Or why he had offered the hounds’ help.
Hellhounds never involved themselves in other people’s business. What was their interest in whatever it was the Sparkly One was supposed to do? Was there trouble in the hellhound kennel?
He’d been so wrapped up in his own shit, he’d missed all that. Motivation was something a cop should never overlook. He’d be damned if that would happen twice.
There was something going on there. He could smell it.
Chapter 14
“That’s what I mean, Oscar. What
“But really, isn’t there a greater threat from random violence against supernaturals, the vampire slayers who appoint themselves vigilantes?”
“Most of them are rank amateurs, but you’re right. Every so often they do get in a lucky stake.”
Alessandro slept. For vampires, dreams were usually lost in the deep, deep sleep of the Undead, slipping away during the long climb back to consciousness.
The odd quality of this one stuck with him, though.
There was a magpie the size of city hall trying to carry off the T-Bird, and he was trying to stop it with a garden hose.
The image blanked as absolutely as if someone had pulled the power cord.
His hand shot out from beneath the covers, grabbing the stake inches from his chest. It was pure vampire survival reflex. His eyes squinted open a moment later, tears forming in reaction to the daylight peeking from beneath the blinds.
Through the haze, he saw Ashe’s rage-mottled face. His other hand shot up, snatching her throat. Delicate rings of cartilage tempted him to squeeze and crush.
He really wasn’t a morning person.
Ashe wasn’t letting go of the stake, but was yanking on it with rabid persistence. Alessandro started to sit up. She tried to poke her thumb in his eye. That did it. With a snarl, he flipped her over onto the bed, knocking the stake from her hand. It hit the wall and skidded under the bed.
“Agh!” she yelped, clawing at the hand he still had wrapped around her throat.
He snarled, letting her see the fangs. “I’ve had it with you, hunter. I’ve held back for Holly’s sake. You crossed the line.”
She brought her knee up sharply, catching him in the ribs. He grabbed her hair, using the leverage to tip her head back and sniff her throat. Her eyes went perfectly round in a moment of pure abject terror. The stink of it roused the predator in him. In the single tick of the clock, Ashe wiped the look from her face, but she couldn’t hide the slight trembling of her chin.
Fear was spice. Saliva pooled in his mouth. As Holly’s Chosen, blessed by her magic, he didn’t need to feed on blood any more than a human needed a candy bar. That didn’t mean the temptation wasn’t there. Just ask a chocoholic.
“You aren’t supposed to be awake,” she said, her voice shaking just on the last syllable. She cleared her throat.
“Really?” The light was making his head pound.
“You can’t move in daylight.” She squeezed her eyes closed, for a moment looking so much like Holly it made him loosen his grip on her hair.
“Of course I can.”
He was kneeling beside her on the soft mattress, bracing with one hand while he held her down with the other around her throat. Ashe was strong enough to break the grip of a human male. Against him, she didn’t stand a chance. Both her hands clutched his wrist. Any moment she’d start trying to pry herself free because survival instinct demanded it.
She wouldn’t win.
He gave a deadly leer. “Trade secret. Any vampire that is old enough can wake during the day. It just makes us very, very cranky.”
At the moment, he felt like he had the mother of all hangovers.
“What’s Holly going to say when she finds me dead?” A low growl slipped out. “What’s to say she’ll ever find
