Hunter's Need (2 page)

Blind to everything but Ana, he’d been so caught up in her, in the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body against his, he hadn’t realized the danger until it was too late. He’d been shot with silver and in the brief period he’d been unconscious, somebody had chained him up, bound him head to toe with chains of silver and titanium. The silver had drained him, burned him and ate into his flesh, while the titanium was too fucking strong for him to break away.

And that was how he’d spent the next couple of days, until help arrived in the form of Mary Kendall and Duke’s old friend Kane. Somebody from his life before. Life before the Hunters. Life before he’d ever met up with a sad-eyed psychic—a life that had been a helluva a lot easier.

He didn’t remember much of the days he spent in captivity, beyond Ana. Almost every damn time he swam up out of the black well of pain and weakness brought on by starvation, she’d been there, urging water past his parched throat, giving him just enough to keep him going. A natural shifter, he ate more, drank more than a mortal. A mortal could go a decent amount of time before starvation left them weak. But for a shifter, a couple of days without food was enough to put him in a bad state.

For the thousandth—no, probably the millionth time, he found himself wondering why she’d made the pretense of helping him, of caring if he lived or died under Cat’s hand. Found himself wondering why she was here—why she’d come, and why they’d allowed her to stay.

A ham-sized fist caught him on the side of the head and he went flying, coming to a stop only when his body crashed into a reinforced wall. Head spinning, he shoved to his feet and stared across the mat at Shawn. Rubbing his ringing ear, he muttered, “Good one.”

Shawn shrugged, a wry smile creasing his dark face. “Not really. You’re off.”

Off—yeah. He was that. “Maybe.” Scanning the students seated at the edge of the mat, he singled out Lindsey Sue Whit-taker. Petite, delicate, her head barely reached the middle of Shawn’s chest but when the black man saw her rising from the floor, he swore. Lindsey fluttered her lashes at him and blew him a kiss before bending over and stretching out her legs.

Then she straightened and without so much as a blink lunged for him, crossing the distance with a speed no mortal eye could track. Werewolf quick.

As the vampire set about fighting off the werewolf, Duke retreated off the mat and tried to get his head focused and his thoughts off Analise Morell.

 

 

“
W
HO is that?”

Duke glanced up, first at the vampire standing across the pool table, and then toward the door. But even before he saw, he knew. Raking Ana over with a contemptuous gaze, he looked back at the vampire. Dominic—the last name escaped him. Here from Nashville, Tennessee, where he served as a lieutenant for the local master. “Somebody that shouldn’t be here.”

Dominic snorted. “Well, hell. She’s got a lot in common with me, already.” He braced his pool stick on the ground and watched as Ana made her way through the people, heading for the small library tucked off to the side of the rec room.

The rec room was crowded, but for a rainy Saturday evening, that was to be expected.

All too aware of the vampire’s interest, Duke focused on the pool table. The edgy, twitchy sensation in his gut expanded and he shot a dirty look at the window. He didn’t mind water. But he hated getting drenched and if he shifted in that downpour, he’d end up soaked to the bone.

He needed to shift, though. Had to do something to release the edgy, nagging tension that had been building inside him over the past few weeks.

“You know her?”

Duke lined up his shot and took it before straightening and meeting Dominic’s gaze. “There’s close to five hundred students in this school—you think I know them all?”

Dominic shrugged. “Well, you know her well enough to say she shouldn’t be here.”

Duke could have bit his tongue off. Yeah. He had said that. “Her name’s Ana. She’s a psychic, here to get that under control, not because she’s Hunter material.”

Running his tongue over his teeth, Dominic cocked his head, watched as she disappeared through the doors leading to one of the numerous libraries. “She’s cute—blonde. Shit, I love blondes. And I bet she’s blonde all over . . . ”

She was—a memory he’d tried damn hard to forget came rushing up, the night she’d suckered him in, on the trunk of her car. He’d followed her out there, didn’t bother to tell his partner he was heading out, too focused on the woman and the hunger he scented coming from her. Too focused, too impatient to wait, once they’d reached her car, he pulled her against him and kissed her, deaf, dumb and blind to everything but her.

The way her breath caught when he slid his hand under her shirt and cupped her breast.

The way she bit her lip when he slid a hand under her short, snug skirt and pushed it up over her hips before spreading her out on the trunk. In public—where anybody could see—she’d said as much, and he’d whispered, “It’s dark. Nobody can see us . . . ” Plus, he would have heard anybody coming before they got close, and he just couldn’t wait.

Then he made her come, tugging her simple white panties aside and going down on her in the corner of a dark parking lot. Dark, but not so dark his refined vision couldn’t make out the pale, smooth perfection of her body and the silvery blonde curls that covered her sex.

His cock stiffened under the tight confines of his jeans at the memory. He swore silently.

Hated it. Hated how a memory could do this to him, how he could still remember how sweet and soft she’d been—how easily she’d lied to him.

“Ana, you said?”

Jerking his attention back to Dominic, he blinked, then scowled. “What?”

“You said her name was Ana?”

Duke gave the vampire a terse nod.

“She with somebody?”

Duke jerked a shoulder up in a shrug and said, “Beats the hell out of me.” Although he knew the answer. No. She was with nobody. She didn’t date. She rarely left her room unless it was to be with her brother or hit the library. He shouldn’t be surprised to see her here. She wouldn’t want to go out in that cold rain to the main library any more than he wanted to go out in it for a run.

A strange smile curled Dominic’s lips and he glanced back in the direction of the library, then back at Duke. “You mind if I go talk to her?”

Something inside him screamed,
Yes
. He tried to pretend it was because he liked Dominic, and Ana Morell wasn’t a woman to be trusted. He even convinced himself he believed it. He glanced at the table and then back at Dominic. With a nonchalance he didn’t feel, he said, “Feel free. We can play later, but I’d watch your back around her.”

“The game ain’t the reason I’m asking,” Dominic drawled, his southern accent a bit more pronounced. Circling around the table, he leaned in close and said in a near-soundless voice, “I bet she isn’t with anybody. And I bet it’s because anytime a guy thinks about moving in on her, he gets a good look at your face and decides it ain’t worth getting his head ripped off.”

Duke snorted. “And you think I care who ‘moves in on her’ for . . . what reason again?”

Dominic laughed. “Hell, maybe
you
don’t care. But some part of you does. Body language doesn’t lie. Scent doesn’t lie.”

And that was the bitch of it all, because even if Duke wanted to pretend he didn’t want the pretty blonde psychic with the sad, purple eyes and hesitant smile, his body said otherwise. Above the other scents in the room, the scents of life, coffee, food, the lotions a lot of the women loved to rub into their skin, he could smell her. Smell Ana.

He could smell himself, smell the need on him. Knowing how fucking bad he wanted her didn’t make it any easier to look at her, though. He looked at her and saw how fucking foolish he’d been, how damn gullible. How pathetic.

Not again. He could want her until hell froze over, but that didn’t mean he’d give in.

Across the pool table, he met Dominic’s level stare. Then, without saying anything, he hurled his cue stick down and stalked out of the room.

 

 

S
HE felt his passing like a hot, angry wind, blasting against her shields, snaking through the minute cracks and scalding her.

People were watching her—she felt it as she left the library. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t just stay in the library forever, either, which meant she had to go back the way she’d come.

Should have just dealt with the rain and gone to the main library.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Ana stood looking out into the rec room. Clutching the book to her chest, she licked her lips and then glanced from the door where Duke had just disappeared and then back at the pool table where he’d been playing only a few minutes ago.

There was a vampire standing there—she might not have the sense of smell or the eyesight that most of these people had, but she could recognize a vamp easy enough. Instinctive fear curled inside her gut, and she fell back a step before she realized it.

Vampires—she hated them. It had taken her weeks to work up the courage to leave her assigned rooms once the sun had gone down, even longer before she could be near one without fighting the urge to lock herself back in her room and just hide.

Not all of them were evil. Not all of them were like Cat.

She knew that.

The one watching her now was a stranger, a man she’d never met and she watched as his gaze left hers to study the room around them, picking up on the censure and distrust and outright hatred.

It was no secret how Ana had landed at Excelsior. Nor was it any secret that most of the students here quietly despised her, resented her presence. Unfortunately, she presented a hazard to them and she had to be trained.

Well, trained or just killed.

The vampire’s gaze came back to linger on her face and to her surprise, a slow, sympathetic smile curled his lips. Even through her shields, she sensed his intention before he moved and she jerked her gaze away. She didn’t need his sympathy.

Pulling her shoulders back, she started forward, winding through the mass of people, sidestepping those who were lying on the floor, skirting around tables, keeping her distance. She wanted to run. It was a need that left her muscles in knots while her gut clenched and her hands went cold and slick, but she didn’t give in.

Running around a bunch of predators that already disliked her seemed a very, very bad idea.

She almost made it through.

Almost.

A familiar voice drawled, “Where you off to, Ana?”

If seeing Duke made her sick with guilt, hearing that voice made her sick with fear. Neal Hollister, a vampire who’d arrived at Excelsior about the same time she had, and he was roughly her age. Like so many vamps, he’d been Changed against his will by a feral vampire, but his sire had an accomplice—a psychic. Neal’s distrust of psychics went as deep as Ana’s fear of vampires.

He came up quietly, quickly, so quickly she didn’t have the time to avoid him as he placed himself in her path. He smiled, flashing his fangs at her, and reached up, toyed with the ends of her hair. “Where you off to in such a hurry, baby?”

“To my room,” she said, hoping the ice in her voice would camouflage the fear—even as she knew it wouldn’t.

Damn vamps, they could smell it with the same ease she could sense it. His grin widened and he tugged slightly. “Want some company?”

Batting his hand aside, she said, “Not hardly.”

“Oh . . . so cold.”

Curling her lip at him, she went to go around him. He lifted an arm, blocking her exit and caging her between his body, the door and the mass of people watching with avid interest. “Why you have to be so cold?”

She swallowed the knot in her throat. She had to say something—had to do something to get him away from her. He might not respect strength, but most of these people did. She opened her mouth to say something—
anything
—

Then, damn it, Bradley, her knight in shining armor, appeared in the doorway—just beyond Neal’s shoulder. “Leave her alone, Neal.”

Her little brother had shot up over the past four years, but he was still too skinny, giving him an odd, stretched out appearance. Once his body had a chance to catch up, she imagined he’d bulk up some, but she seriously hoped he didn’t get much taller. He already had two inches on her.

But he was still inches shorter than Neal—and he was a human teenager, where Neal was a vampire who’d already been an adult when he was Changed. Neal shot Brad a bored glance. “I’m talking to your sister, kid, not you.”

“You’re not talking to her.” Brad took a step forward, a harsh note entering his voice.

People who knew him would have backed away.

But this particular rec room was set aside for the adult students and faculty. Brad was a bit of a special case and had special teachers who worked with him. Not one of those teachers was here. Nobody in here had ever trained with Bradley, and not one of the people in the room had any experience with him, other than the stories they’d heard. Stories most of them probably brushed off—after all, how dangerous could a fourteen-year-old human kid be?

In Brad’s case, the answer was
very dangerous
.

Ignoring Brad, Neal lifted a hand and stroked Ana’s cheek. “I keep hearing how much you’re into blood . . . why don’t you—oomph—”

Ana felt it, a punch of psychic energy, blasting through the air. She grabbed Brad as Neal went flying backward and crashed into one of the glass-fronted media cabinets. Glass, DVDs and CDs exploded around him at the impact and he fell to the floor—seconds later he was up, moving quicker than the eye could track.

She felt the punch of Brad’s power again and she shook him, distracted him for just a second, long enough for the swell of power to fade. “Brad, stop.
Now
.”