Holly pushed away from the bar, her eyes on the address. Montlith Court. That was a pretty ritzy street.
Laughter from Marc. “You’re gonna be in for one hell of a night, lady. One hell of a night.”
The house on Montlith stood, tall and elegant, behind a big stone gate. The home lay nestled between two houses that were each easily bigger than the News Flash Five station.
She hadn’t been sure what address Marc would give her.
Holly certainly hadn’t expected Easy Street.
She parked her car a bit down the road. Then she stalked up to the gate. Guards were stationed there. Uniformed guards with perfectly pressed pants and shirts, gleaming shoes, and wide-brimmed hats.
They waved a car in as she approached. The gates slid open and Holly thought about trying to sneak in—
“Freeze!”
Only to realize that a guy holding a taser had it aimed right at her.
She froze. “I’m here to meet a friend.” Her head tilted just slightly toward the house. She could see it so clearly now, a huge antebellum mansion with white columns, elaborate steps.
Somebody had too much money.
The guy with the taser walked forward—and sniffed her.
“Human.” The whisper was so light she almost didn’t catch it.
One of the other guards, a guy who was at least ten feet away, gave a nod.
The back of her neck began to tingle.
“Why you here?”
Gruff, and dammit, hadn’t she just told the guy why she was trekking up to Scarlett’s house? “I need to meet—”
“Why?” The intensity in the guy’s eyes and voice was just…creepy.
She remembered Marc’s warning. Oh, hell, what was this, some kind of secret password shit? “Uh, to play?”
The taser dropped. “Then have fun.”
Doubt it.
“Maybe they won’t use you up too much.”
And maybe she wouldn’t come back with a camera crew and broadcast that asshole’s face all over Atlanta.
“The party’s waitin’,” he murmured. “Hope you like blood.”
Not particularly.
Holly.
Niol tensed, his gaze on the gleaming red hair of the woman who strode toward the house.
He’d know that hair—know her—anywhere.
Shit.
What the hell was his reporter doing at the biggest blood party in Atlanta?
A human like her—she’d be a meal before she even made it past the foyer.
Then he’d have to stake a vampire. Or maybe ten.
Dammit. He’d come to the house for information, to see what dark whispers were circulating about the dead demons.
This wasn’t a place for a human.
Not one like her.
His hands fisted as he watched her through the third-floor window. Leave. The word whispered through his mind, but he didn’t use the compulsion.
He could, it would be so easy. She was close enough to control. He could push, and she’d turn around, walk that sexy ass away and—
No.
He wouldn’t do that, not to her.
The woman was making him weak.
Time to fucking get her out of his system.
If the vamps didn’t get to her first.
Niol stalked toward the stairs.
When the front door of the mansion opened, the stench of blood hit her like a slap in the face.
Oh, damn. No denying it now, she was at a freaking blood party.
Holly tried not to gape as she crept over the threshold. She’d heard about blood parties, of course.
Carl had told her about them and said that if she was smart, she’d make absolutely sure she never attended a blood fest.
Because the humans were the dinner at the parties.
A vampire stood just inside the entranceway, his fangs embedded in a woman’s throat. Her eyes were wide open, staring at Holly. The vamp was gulping, sucking, drinking as fast and greedily as he could.
The woman smiled.
Shit.
Holly stumbled past them, only to see a female vampire with two men on the staircase. One guy sat at her feet, kind of like he was worshipping her. Another, with black hair and freakishly pale skin, stood on the step above her. Her red fingernails were on the sitting man’s neck. Her mouth had locked onto the wrist of the too-pale one and Holly could see the lady’s throat working as she swallowed.
Shit, shit, shit.
A big part of her wanted to turn tail and run right then. She’d seen vamps drinking at Paradise before, but this was different. Everywhere she turned, they were feeding.
And fucking.
She could hear them. The cries of passion and pleasure. The moans.
She was in way over her head.
Stumbling, she rammed her elbow into a man’s back. He spun around and locked pitch-black eyes on her. Not black like Niol’s, every part of Niol’s eyes were dark.
This was different. Only the guy’s irises were black. Hunting mode. A vamp’s irises flashed dark when he hunted or when he screwed.
“I-I’m looking for Niol.” Coming in alone probably hadn’t been the best idea, but she’d had little choice. The house looked like a freaking photo spread in Southern Times—it shouldn’t have been a cover for a bloodbath.
“Haven’t seen him,” the vampire said, his gaze sliding over her. “Shame on him, for leaving you all alone at such a good party.” Then he smiled.
Uh, oh. She knew that smile. Vamp or human, she recognized a predatory glance.
“Why don’t we go someplace quiet…” He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her palm. “To talk.”
Right. What, was “talk” some kind of euphemism for sucking her blood? “I don’t think I’m up for talking with you.” The whole blood thing was not her style.
She was too much of a fainter and her weak stomach sure wouldn’t let her indulge—that was one of the reasons she’d nearly slammed onto the floor in the ME’s office.
His hold on her wrist tightened and the smile dimmed a bit. “Then let’s just—”
“Take your damn hand off her, Carter.”
Holly didn’t wait for the vampire to free her. She yanked her hand away from him and spun to face Niol.
Alive.
Safe.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy to see someone.
So she kissed him.
Holly threw her arms around his neck, yanked his head down, and crushed her mouth against his.
His lips met hers with a voracious hunger. Mouth, tongue. Taking, driving her wild and feeding the desire that burned right below the surface.
Niol’s hands clamped on her hips, dragging her body tightly against his. The bulge of his arousal pushed at her, the length long and hard.
Her sex moistened, the inner muscles clenching as yearning swept through her.
Niol lifted his head. Swiped his tongue across his lips as if he wanted to take every last drop of her taste.
The silence hit her then. Heavy, overwhelming.
Glancing to the right, she saw that the vamps on the stairs were watching them. Two men—demons—walked out of another room, and their eyes narrowed on her and Niol.
No, on her.
“She’s the reporter,” one of them snarled.
Oh, finally, someone recognized her. Not recognized at the bar, not at the gate—but now. She’d always had shitty luck.
“She’s mine.” Niol snarled right back, his arms still chaining her against him. “You got a fucking problem with that?”
The demons backed up a step.
Smart guys.
But the female vampire on the stairs gave a hard laugh and sauntered down three steps. “Maybe I do. Depends on just why she’s here.” A smile that should have been beautiful—because the woman’s face was freaking gorgeous with glass-cutting cheekbones, red, red lips, a dainty nose, and a curving jaw—lifted her mouth. But the smile, it w
as just cruel…and a bit creepy.
Maybe because of the fangs.
Or the blood. The blood staining her teeth—yeah, that could be causing the creepiness.
“Why are you here, News Flash Five reporter? Are we your scoop for the night?”
The air seemed even thicker. Maybe it was. Maybe Niol was using his powers and he was about to send the black-haired bitch flying back up the stairs so she could finish her meals.
And then all hell would break loose because Niol was seriously outnumbered. She didn’t think that even he could take down a whole house full of vampires and demons.
Maybe, but…
She didn’t want to take the chance.
Holly let her gaze drift slowly back to Niol. She had the feeling the vamps were just waiting for the opportunity to pounce.
The demons, too.
His black eyes met hers. Burning with intensity. “Holly…”
She heard the warning in his voice.
Her arms were still around his neck. She stared into his eyes, kept her body nestled against his and said simply, “I want to play.”
His lips parted in surprise.
Hard laughter echoed around her.
But then the vamps started talking again, the demons slunk away, and the blood party kicked back into action.
Niol kissed her. Another one of those deep, toe-curling kisses that made her wish they weren’t surrounded by the stench of blood and monsters that they really, really couldn’t trust.
Because right then, she just wanted to be alone with him.
She was glad he was safe.
And when the hell had Niol started to matter so much to her?
The powerful beat of his heart drummed against her. The warmth of his body bored into hers. And his mouth…
That tongue…
“Let’s get out of here.” He growled the words as he tore his mouth from hers.
Holly nodded, more than happy to ditch the vamps.
Niol kept a tight grip on her wrist as he led her through the house. She passed gleaming chandeliers, fireplaces that were big enough to walk in, and half-dressed demons.
Then they were outside, stepping onto a stone walkway, one lined with rosebushes. A few party stragglers were outside, but they’d left the noise behind.
He drew her into the shadows, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her against his chest. His head lowered and Niol’s breath stirred the hair near her ear.
“Most of ’em like to stay in the house. It’s safer there, fewer prying eyes.”
His voice was a whisper, one that shouldn’t have been seductive. It was too dark, too sinister, but goose bumps rose on her arms and it sure wasn’t because he scared her.
If anyone glanced their way, she knew they’d look like a couple stealing away into the night. Bodies too close. His wicked mouth at her ear.
For just a second, Holly could have sworn that she felt the warm touch of his tongue sliding over the shell of her ear.
Her knees did a quick tremble. “Niol…”
“Why are you here?” Another dark whisper. “And who the hell sent you to this place?”
She drew in deep breath, caught the scent of the flowers, fresh and clean from the late evening rain.
And the dank stench of blood.
Vampires.
Holly turned more fully against him. Her breasts teased the muscled expanse of his chest. Niol wasn’t dressed in the fancy garb some of the vampires had worn. No silk jacket and pants.
Just his standard black T-shirt. Faded jeans.
A T-shirt that was stretched taut by his defined chest, his wide shoulders, the rippling muscles of his arms.
And those jeans…
Later.
Holly rose onto her tiptoes and let her lips skim his jaw. “Marc told me—I made him, but that doesn’t matter.” Not at all. She swallowed. “The picture at Carl’s…” Her voice was as soft as she could make it, a breath of sound. The vampires weren’t close, but she sure didn’t want to chance them overhearing her. “I got one like it today, delivered to the station.”
She glanced over his shoulder as she spoke, her gaze resting on the plump, bloodred petals of a rose. The roses were twisting beneath an old-fashioned gaslight. Strange to see them blooming, far too early in the season. Magic. She cleared her throat and said, “I got a picture, of you and me…and a note.”
The roses shriveled before her eyes. Darkened to a sickly brown, then fell to the ground, petals raining down. Magic—Niol’s magic.
Holly jerked her head back and stared, wide-eyed, up at Niol. His face was a hard mask, his black eyes glittering. “What did the note say?”
“The impure will die.”
Her hair lifted in a breeze that hadn’t been there a minute ago. “I think you’re next on the bastard’s list, Niol.” The guy had all but drawn a bull’s-eye on Niol’s face. “I had to find you, to make sure—”
She stopped.
One black brow rose. “To make sure—what?”
“That you were safe.”
The brow lowered and a crinkle appeared on his forehead. “Worried about me?”
In too deep. “Yes.” Stark. She caught the surprise that flickered over his face. What? Hadn’t anyone ever worried about the man before? “No matter how strong you are, you can still be hurt…or killed.”
She didn’t want to think about that. Holly’s fingernails dug into his arms. “The bastard’s watching us, Niol. And I’m not going to let you become his next slaughter.”
A ghost of a smile feathered his lips. “Deadly.”
“Right, that freak is, and I’m not—”
“Not him. You.”
She didn’t know what to say. Deadly—not exactly a word many had used to describe her.
“I like that in a woman.”
He would.
“And if our…friend…was watching us before, when he took that picture—”
“It was from last night, in the parking lot of News Flash Five.” He’d been so close to them, too close.
His hold on her hardened. “If that sick fuck was watching us then…” His stare bored into hers. “What makes you think he’s not watching us now?”
Holly’s breath stuttered out as her heart slammed into her chest.
Hell, yes, he could be watching. Could have been watching her the whole time.
And, if so, she’d just led the freak straight to Niol.
Chapter 7
Holly’s face bleached of color and Niol swore.
“You think he followed me?” She sounded horrified.
No point lying. “Maybe.” Or maybe the bastard had been following him. “Either way, the guy’s letting us know the game’s on.”
“And that you’re his next target.”
Or she was.
No, no that wouldn’t make any sense. The impure reference in the letters had to be talking about the demon blood.
No humans had turned up carved to ribbons. Only his kind.
So, yes, looked like his ticket was up next.
Let the fucker just come and try to kill him.
“The flowers are all dying,” she murmured, her lips curving down. “Stop it, Niol. They were the best thing about this place.”
He hadn’t even realized he’d been letting his power leak out. Instantly, he slammed down the gates of his control.
Niol dropped his hands and stepped even farther back into the darkness. He could see the withered petals in the flickering light.
Dead.
He was good at killing.
But once something was dead, there was no way to bring it back.
His gaze locked helplessly on Holly.
Once something was dead…
No.
Holly might not be impure, but someone had already tried to kill her once this week. No way was he gonna let her be at risk.
She’d been in the picture, too. Maybe the killer had decided that Holly had been slumming with the demons too m
uch. Maybe she was impure in his twisted head, too.
Maybe he just needed to find the bastard and do some slicing of his own.
She touched his cheek.
Niol nearly flinched.
It wasn’t a sexual touch, though, hell, yes, he sure liked those from her. The woman’s mouth was the best temptation he’d had in well, years.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “They’re just flowers.”
Even as she said the words, he saw the memory flicker in her eyes. Another night. Another place. Another rush of his power.
But it hadn’t been blackened flowers at their feet.
It had been a man’s charred body.
The bastard had been planning to kill Holly. There hadn’t been a choice.
Her hand didn’t fall away, and he was expecting her to wrench back. But she didn’t. The memories were there, the full knowledge of just what he could do.
What he’d done.
“I never thanked you, did I?” She asked quietly. “You and Cara saved my life that night.”
And took another. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I-I think I do.”
“Don’t make me into a hero.” That he’d never be.
“I won’t make that mistake.” Did her lips curl just a bit? For a second, he could have sworn that dimple winked at him. “But you’re not a hardass villain, either.”
Wasn’t he? Sometimes, even he wasn’t sure. He caught her hand, and, for a moment, held her tight. Then said, “We need to go. If that asshole is watching us, we’re not safe here.” There was only one place he’d feel was safe enough for Holly.
His house.
His bed.
She glanced over her shoulder, back up at the monster of a house. “Do we have to go back in there?”
“No.” He tugged on her wrist. “I know another way out. Come on.” Time to get the hell out of there.
Before their new friend showed up.
They left her car at the party. Niol figured he’d call one of his men later, get ’em to pick it up, drive it around town to throw off any watchers, and then bring it back to his place.
Holly rode with Niol back to his home. When they first climbed into the car, she’d asked, “Where are we heading?”
“My place,” had been his growled response.