Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“If that’s all, I’ll head out,” I say to Frangelico.
He nods. “You’re off bouncer duty the rest of the night. Ask Peter to call in a replacement. In the meantime, I’ll make the rounds.”
“Right.” Time to go on the hunt.
I head to the rope where Augustine tied up his shifter sub, where the white robe she wore lies crumpled on the floor. I pick it up and give it a good sniff. The scent is spicy, with a touch of floral. Fox. Definitely. If I can’t track the vampire by his scent, I can at least find the fox.
A few discreet questions later, and I learn the redhead left with Augustine. Her master they called him. Not sure if that means he owns her, or if it’s just a game they play, but I plan to find out. I can get his address from the records Frangelico keeps—I’m one of the few people he gives access to. He knows I’ll never betray him. I need him too much.
Halfway up the stairs to the main floor, I pause and survey the vast club. Trey and Sheridan have already claimed a table under one of the spotlights. Trey has opened a black duffel bag and is laying out implements. Sheridan stands beside him, her bare skin glowing in a fancy leather harness, swaying a little with excitement.
Trey finishes and turns towards her. He snaps his fingers and she falls to her knees, gazing up at her mate. I don’t need to see her face to know that her eyes are shining. Trey’s face softens as he looks down at her. Another couple stealing a moment before they engage in the complicated mating dance of submission and dominance. I’ve seen it a million times before, but somehow it’s not as grotesque on shifters. That still doesn’t mean I get it.
I climb the rest of the stairs and hit the door with my fist to escape.
Chapter 2
Grizz
Augustine lives in a fancy neighborhood in Oro Valley, up against the Catalina Mountain range. I park my motorcycle, climb the wall, and scan the backyard. Huge pool, fancy patio. But beyond the stone bar and grill and deck furniture, there’s a regular door. It’ll be easy enough to kick it in.
I take a moment to slip past the cameras. No flood lights on the lawn—vampires can see in the dark. Luckily, so can shifters. I hunker down into the bushes and wait.
Vampires are at their strongest at night and I find they’re a bit sluggish closer to daybreak. Not Frangelico—he’s old enough that he can stay awake until the first ray of dawn. But even his oldest sired are well inside by the dark hour before sunrise.
So I crouch until soft light glows in the sky just beyond the mountains. After taking a swig from my flask, I amble to the back door and let myself in. It’s unlocked—you’d have to be crazy to steal from a vampire. Most save all their defenses and booby traps for their sleeping lairs, which is why I want to catch Augustine here awake. He won’t expect it. After a life of hunting vampires, I know what brings them down. Hubris. They’re the biggest, baddest predator on Earth, and they know it. They don’t realize otherwise—until I’m standing over them with a stake.
Of course, I don’t have orders to kill Augustine. Just question him. He might live if Frangelico likes his answers. Frangelico hates killing his sired because, according to him, it’s difficult to make new ones.
The house is cool, clean, and scented like lemon. I search the rooms, but they’re unused. Perfectly decorated but they smell empty. I open the fridge—a few decanters of blood, and a half drunk bottle of wine, but nothing else.
The vampire isn’t here. He probably sleeps elsewhere. Unless I want to catch him partying or fully awake, this is a dead end. Not that I expected it to be easy.
Beside the fridge is a bag of dog food. An expensive type—real wild caught meat or something. I take a moment and tune into the scent below the cold stone smell of the vampire. That’s when I catch the familiar musk.
Dog. Or something close. Not wolf.
Skin prickling, I head to the tiled pantry. In the corner, a colorful Mexican blanket covers a large structure. A cage.
The monster bear in my chest starts to rumble. Not a growl, but a low soothing sound.
I flip up the serape and there’s my little fox. Crumpled, still in human form. Naked but for the white collar. She’s shivering.
My bear rumbles louder.
I open the cage. She winces at the loud metal scrape, her eyes squeezing shut, her body contracting into the smallest point possible. There are still a few marks on her pale skin, though most have faded. Thank fuck she’s a shifter not a human. The dom really worked her over for her to still be healing.