Vampire Thirst (3 page)

Hikuro nodded in agreement. “Even when turned off, the GPS can give out signals.”

“It’s probably best to discard them,” Sam added.

“Nooo. That’s
so
not necessary,” Yara said, clutching hers to her chest.

“Yes, it is,” Zoricah commanded.

They all dumped their cells in the gutter. Yara looked like she was in actual physical pain.

Z turned to Sam. “Be careful. You know the drill.”

Sam nodded. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d had to separate during a mission. The procedure was straightforward
–
the one by herself would go straight to one of their safe houses and get extra ammo and a closed-circuit cell, only to be used in extreme urgency. So Sam wasn’t fazed by Z having to go by herself to Spain. What she was dreading was that weird churn in her gut. She knew she would be far from
fine
while Hikuro was around, but may the Soartas strike her twice if she let it show. She smiled reassuringly to Z. “Go! We’re wasting precious time.”

Zoricah nodded, then took her leather jacket off.

“Just do us a favor and come back soon, OK?” Sam requested with a knowing look.

Zoricah lifted her brow in response.
Yep, she got the message alright.
 

After taking one last glance at the blaze where her home had once been, Zoricah nodded a farewell. Two enormous golden wings sprung out of her shoulder blades. Sam loved watching Zoricah’s dragon come to life. Even when she used just the wings, it was a spectacle to be marveled. She lifted them high in the air, then without another glance, she flew out.

They watched Z disappear into the night. There was no doubt her leader was a demigoddess. If only other humans could come to know that amazing creatures like Zoricah roamed the world right beside them.

Sam exhaled a sigh, then declared, “I know a safe place we can go to.”

If she had to endure Hikuro’s company, it would be on her terms.

Chapter 2

“We are here.”

Hikuro looked at the towering mansion from the black cab’s window. The night was dark and cloudy, but he didn’t need any extra light to see what was in front of him. Overlooking Well Street Common, the old Georgian manor had four levels and spanned the entire block. Several perfectly aligned, white framed sash windows adorned the brown façade. A plump old woman opened the front door. Her frown melted into a large smile when she saw Sam.

“Miss Austen!” the woman exclaimed with a strong Cockney accent.

Austen? Sam’s name was Samantha Austen?

“Hi, Mrs. Wilkinson,” Sam replied.

“I wasn’t expecting you! Please, do come in.”

“Apologies for the surprise visit,” Sam said as they entered the house. “I would have called in advance but...I lost my phone.”

“Oh, I’d have prepared your room if I had known, but not to worry. Come, come. Sit by the fire while I get everything sorted.”

The woman held the door open and let them through. As soon as Hikuro crossed the threshold, she frowned, as if trying to figure out who he was. Hikuro met her inquisitive gaze. Of course the longer the old lady stared at him, the easier it would be for him to enter her mind. So he stood squarely in front of her and let the woman take her time.

“Mrs. Wilkinson,” Sam said interrupting their mind game. “I believe you remember my friend Yara, and this is Hikuro.”

“How do you do, Mrs. Wilkinson?” he asked, not wavering.

Her eyes went glassy, her lids dropped to half-mast, and he felt the veil protecting her mind fall. So easy.

“Hikuro!” Sam shouted. “Stop that, right now!”

Sam grabbed Mrs. Wilkinson’s shoulders and shook her. “Mrs. Wilkinson, why don’t we go set up accommodations for my guests.”

Just because he felt like it, he held the woman’s mind a while longer before releasing it.

The old lady blinked a few times, then followed Sam up the stairs.

Before they disappeared into the shadows of the silent mansion, Sam turned around and gave him a knowing look. Her lips pursed into a thin line. “Wait for me in the ante-chamber, and do not talk to anyone.”

Hikuro bowed formally. “Yes, ma’am.”

Sam narrowed her eyes at him. He had to bite the insides of his cheeks to stop his lips from curling up in a smile. It was so easy to wind her up.

“Yara, show him the way, please.”

Hikuro followed the Brazilian witch into a large foyer. Three brown couches encircled a grey stone fireplace. An old tapestry covered the main wall, which sat opposite the sash windows; the dark green grass of the Common was displayed beyond them.

“Nice trick you pulled out there,” Yara said, as she slumped onto one of the soft seats and planted her feet on the coffee table. “Can every vamp do that?”

“It takes years of practice,” he replied. He had to be vigilant not to divulge any crucial information that could be used against him and his king. Tardieh was obviously blinded by his lust for the draconian demigoddess, but Hikuro had seen what those women could do, how treacherous they were.

“You didn’t actually answer my question.” Yara lifted an eye brow at him.

Exactly. “If I may ask, whose residence is this?”

“Yep, you may, Fangs. It’s Sam’s.”

“Sam’s?”

“Yes, and it’s not a residence. It’s a psychiatric rehabilitation center.”

Pause.

“Excuse me?”

“This is a hospital for those who are deemed mentally unable to take care of themselves,” Yara explained, as if reading from a brochure.

“I know what a psychiatric rehabilitation center is, Yara. I am inquisitive about Sam’s involvement in such an institution.”

She stood up and went to stand by the window. “Well, that, Fangs, you’ll have to ask her yourself.”

“Right. All sorted,” Sam announced from the door. She had a bundle of heavy drapes in her arms. “Yara, you and I will share my room. Hikuro, please follow me.”

“I’m off. Need a run,” Yara said and darted out.

Hikuro knew exactly what kind of “run” she meant. He watched the witch swagger her way out, leaving him alone with Sam, who seemed to be trying hard to avoid his eyes. A faint blush colored her smooth cheeks. She seemed to be doing that a lot since he arrived back.

After their first encounter in New York – where Sam seduced him, then served him as live bait on a plate
–
Hikuro went the extra mile to find out everything that could be known about those three women. It’s not that he didn’t trust his king’s judgment, he just didn’t trust
them
. Zoricah was a well-known outlaw
–
half-dragon, half-goddess, all trouble
–
who had conveniently forgotten to mention she was the daughter of Ucidhere, God of Death and Lord of Apa Sâmbetei. Yara, the Brazilian witch, also had something up her sleeve. She was a shifter, not a werewolf though, but a black panther. Even worse. Hikuro knew how to deal with werewolves, but he had never encountered a panther-shifter before. And Sam, well, only Apa Dobrý knew what Sam was. Hikuro had searched the entire world for a clue about Sam’s past, but came up with zilch. And he didn’t like zilch. Zilch meant he was in the dark. It meant working with someone he could not predict or be ready for any foul play from. And after the stunt Sam pulled on him at the nightclub in New York, he would be damned if he wasn’t going to keep a very close eye on her.

“Lead the way,” he said.

The room she had arranged for him was located on the underground level of the manor and was quite minimal, but he had seen worse. Like everything else in that mansion, it was simple but sufficient, only adorned by a double bed and a small side table with a lamp.

Sam crossed the room and tiptoed in front of the high windows. “This is the darkest room I have, but I brought extra curtains to better block the sun.”

Hikuro’s eyes took a mind of their own and swept over the woman in front of him. Sam was fairly short, blond with marble skin and grey-blue eyes. Not his type at all. The denim pants she wore hung low on her hips. Her simple tank top lifted up with her efforts to reach the curtain pole high above, giving him a glimpse of the soft, flawless skin underneath it.

His mouth salivated. His shaft filled up in his groin.

Damn it.

“Here, let me do it.” Hikuro took the heavy drapes from her and, with one smooth movement, placed them over the existing curtains.

There, done. Now he could be rid of that blond temptation. When he turned around, he found Sam staring. Despite the room having gone dark, his vampire sight was acute enough to clearly distinguish her eyes on him. Images of the last time they found themselves alone in a dim corner flooded his already-blurry mind. The feel of her wavy tresses in his hands, her full breasts crushed against his chest, her soft skin burning his.

His fangs itched in his mouth, wanting a taste of her. A sudden hunger captured his brain and threatened to take over his reason.

Stop. Don’t fall into her trap again.

Slapping the untimely hunger back into its cage, Hikuro stepped around Sam and stood by the door. “I hear you own this place.”

As he’d predicted, his movements had been too fast for Sam’s human eyes. It took her a couple seconds to follow his voice and find him leaning on the door sill.

“Yes, err…it’s mine,” she replied, looking a bit confused.

“It’s a mental health institution,” he stated.

“It’s a psychiatric rehabilitation facility,” she corrected him, crossing her arms. “This is not a prison. The patients are here of their own will.”

Hmm, feisty. Did he hit a nerve?

“So, no electric shocks, no bindings, no drugs?”

“Nope, none of that.”

Hikuro lifted a brow. “Really?”

“Yes, really. We help them suppress their episodes with music therapy, art classes, and a lot of patience.”

“And how’s that possible?”

Hikuro listened to Sam’s explanation about how they worked with the mentally disabled in her facility and he was surprised. Her therapies were very honorable, non-violent, and transparent, with no hidden agendas. So
not
the Samantha he knew.

 “Well, I’ll stop boring you now and leave you to settle in,” she said with a slight smile lifting the corner of her mouth.

Something tugged at his chest. He ignored it.

Sam inhaled a breath and crossed the small room. Hikuro’s legs didn’t move him from the door.
Damn it.
Forcing the fuckers to obey, he took a step aside.

“See you later,” she said and squeezed past him, leaving a delicious scent of peaches behind.

Chapter 3

Sam walked along the empty corridors of her mansion. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. That arrogant vamp! She knew what was going on behind that unreadable face of his. He didn’t approve of her institution and was probably laughing at the work they did here. She had seen it in his eyes, the surprised look. How dare he? Sam shook her head and ordered her heart to settle. She’d never cared about what people thought of her; she wasn’t going to start now. Hikuro was an old vampire from a very traditional family in Japan; he’d never understand the power of violence-free therapy, or the fact that a woman could be as strong and successful as a man. He was too stubborn, too conceited for that.

Sam turned the corner and climbed the steps to her room on the top floor. She had to find a way of protecting herself from Hikuro. He affected her too much, and that was not good. Her energies had gone haywire ever since their first encounter in New York. And
that
was not good. Her control was borderline-steady at best. If she lost it, innocent people could get hurt.

She slammed the door of her room shut and slumped onto her bed. Images of Hikuro’s soft lips on hers flooded her mind. His strong hands caressing her skin, leaving a trail of pure heat in their wake, despite his cold vampire touch. As soon as Sam’s eyes had locked onto his from across the nightclub in New York, she had known she was in trouble. She had watched him descend the short flight of stairs from the VIP area down to the dance floor in utter awe. His taut muscles strained underneath his charcoal v-neck sweater. He was all bulging biceps, tight abs and muscled shoulders. His imposing presence exuded power. When he finally reached her at the far end of the bar, Sam could barely remember how to breathe. Without a word, he simply swept her up and kissed her on the lips. And instead of fighting his advances, she melted into his arms. That is, up until the moment when she had to electrocute him unconscious and finish her mission. Yeah, that had killed any hopes for seconds.

Oh, you fool! Stop thinking about him!
Sam rolled on the bed and covered her head with a pillow.

“What’s wrong?”

Sam had been so consumed by her thoughts that she didn’t hear Yara come in. Her friend was soaking wet. “How was the run?”

“Great! I love letting my panther loose at the Common.”

“Is it still raining outside?”

“No, but the grass is deliciously wet,” Yara replied with an impish smile. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Sure, help yourself.”

Yara opened the wardrobe and perused Sam’s clothes. “Girl, we have to do something about this.”

“About what?”

“This,” Yara replied pointing at an oversized, worn-out The Police t-shirt.

“That’s one of my favorites! I bought it at my first concert after Z broke me out of the asylum.”

“That was a long time ago, honey. You need new clothes.” Yara picked a pair of yoga pants and a top, then shed off her wet clothes.

Sam did need a new wardrobe, but it was hard to find things that fit her well. “Not everyone has your stunning body, Yara.”

“Ha! Stunning?” her friend snorted. “I have small breasts and an ass the size of Manhattan. You, on the other hand, are the perfect Miss America.”

“I’m English.”

“You know what I mean,” Yara replied, dismissing Sam’s comment with her hand. “You have large breasts, a narrow waist, a cute little bum, and lean legs. And to top it all, you’re blond.”

Reflectively, Sam ran her fingers through her shoulder-length waves. Yes, she did have all that, but she didn’t feel she
was
all that, and frankly she felt quite uncomfortable with this conversation. Time to change the subject. “Do you want to go meet with Phillip?”