Читать книгу The Vampire Hunter - Michele Hauf - Страница 10

Chapter 4

Kaz came to with a snort. Blinking his eyes, he squinted. Hmm, the ceiling was too high. The cloying scent of oranges and cinnamon concerned him, as well. His apartment usually smelled like the fake pine stuff the cleaning lady used during her monthly visits. And the couch he laid on felt hard and militant, not soft and lumpy like his.

Where was he?

He sat up abruptly, slapping a palm to his side where an ache pulled at his muscles and prodded his ribs. Curiously, that didn’t hurt as much as he expected it should.

His shirt was off, and he poked at his side. One of the vamps had shanked him in the ribs with a steel-toed boot. The blow had battered his kidney, dizzied his senses and taken the fight from him. Yet why was he not doubled with pain right now?

Rarely was he bested by his opponents. Four vampires? No problem. And he’d thought he’d had an advantage over Switch, finding her as the sun was setting and catching her not at full strength. Not true at all. She hadn’t been weak or seemingly fearful of the sun. And she’d had her henchmen, who hadn’t fought fairly, going at him all at once.

Stroking his fingertips along his neck, he searched for the inevitable wound, but his skin was smooth, save for the two-day stubble that reminded him he needed to shave. No bites? He’d almost forgotten. He wore a ward against vampires behind his ear. Whew.

Suddenly, Kaz’s vision landed on something soft and blue. Ruffles. The blue fabric danced around the hem of a black, pleated, wool skirt that stopped just above a pair of shapely knees. And higher, the narrow waist of that same black wool led up to a tiny blue bow centered between breasts that rose in soft mounds from the low neckline.

Mmm, now that looked like something that would eradicate the pain, if only he could touch...

Zoë’s hair swished to one side as she tilted her head and flashed him a bright smile. “Rise and shine, Kaz. I have breakfast.”

Breakfast? He had just been fighting.... But the room was light. Had he slept here on Zoë’s couch all night?

“Chia pudding and blueberries.”

She placed a bright yellow pottery bowl in one of his hands and held out a spoon, which he took without averting his eyes from her too sunny smile. Plucking out a blueberry from the bowl, she held it to his lips and, still trapped in a worshipful daze, Kaz opened his mouth to accept the offering.

Sweetness gushed across his tongue, even as he puzzled over the situation. As well, sweetness stood over him like some kind of Nightingale nurse rocking the schoolgirl look. What a sight to wake to. Unexpected, but he’d take it over what might have happened had he been left to lie in the alley all night.

Had he walked here on his own? He couldn’t recall much after taking the kidney punch. Had there been white smoke and chanting involved?

“They’re fresh.” She tapped the bowl. “I picked them this morning.”

Zoë sat on the coffee table before the couch. Her eyes were brighter than the sky after a summer rain, and her pink smile looked almost sneaky. Or was she sizing him up, trying to figure what next she’d steal from him?

He wondered where his stake was, and if he should search her. Not a bad idea, running his hands over those soft swells, emphasized by that tiny blue ribbon. Her breasts looked so full and firm. Maybe if he sort of fell forward and collapsed against her and nuzzled his face against them...

Whew! Kaz shook his head. Apparently, he still didn’t have his wits about him.

His fingers conformed about the warm bowl but he had no appetite for food, only a strange spinning at the fore of his brain, and a growing curiosity. “How did I get here?”

“You don’t remember?” He liked the husky edge to her voice. Bedroom sexy, but smart at the same time. “You’ve slept all night. I watched the vampires attack you in the alley. Since my place was close, I helped you walk here. How’s your side?”

She’d witnessed him take that hellacious beating? Way to go, hunter. Good thing he hadn’t had the opportunity to stake any of them. He was slacking. And why was that?

Because a sexy mouth and a pair of enticing breasts kept luring him back to this woman who felt right. And what was wrong with that?

He eased a couple fingers along his torso. “Doesn’t hurt as much as I think it should. I took a punishing shot to the kidney. Normally, I could have held my own against four miserable—er...”

“Vampires?” she offered sweetly. “I’m sure you could have,” she said with a bit too much forced reassurance.

“Vampires? Come on. You’ve been watching too much TV.”

“You don’t have to put on an act for me, Kaz. I could plainly see they were vampires. The pink-haired one tried to bite you, but she stopped before sinking in her fangs. Weird. Most vamps would never pass up a free meal like they did you.”

Kaz’s jaw dropped open. Bloody hell, the woman knew too much. And he was damned if he didn’t wish for some kind of persuasion like the vampires used so he could take that memory from her mind.

“You can sit up with little pain because of the magic,” Zoë said. “It’s a healing spell. Speeds up the healing process remarkably. Another two or three hours and you should be good as new.”

Magic? Kaz now remembered bits and pieces of last night. Something about her chanting a spell as he’d groaned deliriously. Her hands had moved over his skin as if they were heated instruments designed to soothe and suck out the pain. He’d seen a white mist float before him, and had known it was magic, had just known.

“You’re a witch.”

“Aren’t you perceptive.”

Her snark didn’t rile him. He could deal with anything a female put to him. Except, apparently, three surprise henchmen. Damn, he should have had those vamps last night. But he hadn’t wanted to use the stake when his only intention had been to talk and get information. That decision may have proven a mistake.

Another blueberry plucked from the bowl was placed at his mouth, and Kaz dutifully ate the juicy offering.

“And you are some kind of vampire hunter, yes?” Zoë blinked sweetly, awaiting his answer with wondering blue eyes.

He hadn’t wanted to reveal himself like this. A knight was more discreet. But she couldn’t have pinned him as a knight from the Order of the Stake, so that important detail was still a secret.

“Something like that,” Kaz replied.

He glanced to the table. Beside Zoë’s thigh lay his leather coat, folded in half, and on top of that lay the titanium stake. Enough damning evidence right there. But she’d already held the stake in hand and she hadn’t seemed to figure him out then.

“What’s that?” She nodded toward his shoulder.

Kaz slapped a hand over the brand he’d received upon taking vows with the Order. “Just a teenage thing. You know, crazy dare. Something like that.”

“Uh-huh,” she uttered, tons of disbelief dripping from the nonwords.

“You know too much,” he said.

“I know as much as any other paranormal breed should know about the world and all its wonders.”

Kaz sighed and shook his head. She was a freaking witch. That put a new spin on the situation.

“You didn’t kill the vampires. Interesting,” she noted.

Kaz licked his lips. Her lips were the color of raspberries. Kissable, despite the fact she was a witch.

“From where I was standing, it appeared as if you didn’t even try to stake your opponents. You were defending yourself, yet were unwilling to make a kill.”

“There was no need to slay them. I only take out those who harm humans. And I only wanted to talk. Unfortunately, vamps don’t like talking to hunters. So you’re a witch?”

She placed a hand over his, which still clutched the spoon, on his thigh. “We’re talking about you now, Kaz. We’ll get to me later.”

Something about her touch baffled him. And then it did not. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been touched with such kindness. And that scared the hell out of him.

“So,” she said, “what did you want to talk to the vampires about?”

“Can’t tell you that.”

“Secret hunter stuff?” She winked and those long, dark lashes devastated his need to remain unaffected by her sensual allure. And that annoyed him. Because she was forcing business to merge with pleasure and he didn’t like to do that. It never ended well.

“I’ll give you that,” she said. “I suppose hunters have to be all secretive to get the job done. Like Batman.”

Batman? “I don’t have a cape.”

“Too bad. I bet you could work the cowl-and-cape look with that handsome square jaw. The stubble is sexy, you know.”

A flutter of those lashes and he wanted to grab the woman and kiss her soundly. Wrap her in his arms and crush her body against his. And taste her, lick her everywhere, until he memorized her flavor.

“So I creep you out, eh?” she asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

Zoë took the spoon from him, dipped it in the weird gray pudding stuff, and lifted it to his mouth. Kaz absently opened his mouth and let her feed him. A blueberry burst on his tongue.

“Last night when I was invoking the healing spell you said witches creep you out.” She spooned him another bite. “And I assume, since I am a witch, that included me.”

“No, you could never— I didn’t mean—” He pushed away another spoonful. Stuff was...weird. And he was sitting here, being fed by a witch. “Well, hell. You’re all kinds of surprises this morning, aren’t you?”

He wasn’t going to get into this argument with her. Witches were not his favorite creatures. Something about them did creep him out, but what was it? He couldn’t recall the exact reason for his heebie-jeebies.

Kaz grabbed the spoon from Zoë, dropped it in the bowl and shoved it toward her.

“You need to eat. Build up your strength.”

“I need to leave.”

“Not for another few hours. I want to keep you here until I know the spell has worked.”

“I’m fine.” He pushed up and swung his legs over the side of the couch. His brain wobbled inside his skull, and briefly, he saw two witches sitting before him. “Why do I feel so woozy?”

“The spell is rushing through your system, doing its thing. It’ll require all bits and pieces of you to work cohesively to heal the damaged parts. So you won’t feel right until it’s completed. Lie back.” She shoved the bowl into his hands. “And finish your pudding.”

She stood. Kaz’s eyes veered directly to those blue ruffles above her knees. A dash of his tongue—right there—would taste the curve behind her knee, and he knew the flavor would satisfy him like no bowl of goopy gray stuff ever could.

“When you feel less dizzy, I’ve set out some towels in the bathroom. I’m washing your shirt right now. It was spattered with blood—probably your own. I could clean your pants...?”

“They’re fine,” he said quickly of his leather pants.

“You sure? I won’t look.”

The situation was getting intimate. Fast. And what was wrong with that?

You don’t do the intimate with someone you hardly know. You screw them and leave. You know this woman. It’s too late for a quickie, never see you again, sweetie.

She’d already nestled her ribbons and raspberry lips into a place in his brain. Good luck getting her out, buddy.

She turned and strode out of the living room.

“You don’t creep me out, Zoë.” He whispered the words as his brain fogged and his heavy eyelids fell shut. His grip softened about the pottery bowl.

“Pretty...” was the last word he could manage before surrendering to his body’s need to shut down while the spell worked to heal his wounds.

* * *

Zoë smiled to herself as she moved the clothes from the washer into the dryer. Pretty, eh? The man hadn’t been all there in the head when he’d muttered that. As he hadn’t been in full grasp of his senses when he’d muttered about creepy witches.

She hoped.

The blood had come out of his black shirt thanks to her homemade herbal detergent with an extra touch of earth magic. She tossed it into the dryer and sprinkled in some cloves to imbue a pleasing scent into the fabric, though she was a little sad she’d washed away the leather-and-licorice scent from his shirt. It still lingered on his skin, though. Goddess, but the man smelled like a treat.

But she had much better things to do than household chores and tending the sick, no matter how delicious the patient smelled. A whole lot of faery ichor needed processing and her time was valuable. But she couldn’t work while the hunter was in her house because that might tempt him to climb the stairs to see what she was doing. Her work wasn’t a secret. She just liked to keep her spell room sacred and never allowed others inside.

“Protect the magic,” she muttered. “Always and ever.”

Her parents had taught her that. One slip on her father’s part had branded him warlock. It was a hard life to live in the shadows with few friends, but there were days Zoë suspected her father preferred such a life. He’d always been quiet, almost to the point of reclusive.

As she wandered into the kitchen, curiosity over Kaz’s encounter with the vampires last night crept up on her. If he’d no intention of killing them, and had only wanted to talk with them, she wanted to know why. Because the pink-haired vampiress was involved in her life in an important way.

Had Kaz’s curiosity anything to do with something “Pink” had done?

“Couldn’t be related to me,” she muttered, while setting the breakfast dishes in the sink. “I hope not.” She and Pink had no relationship whatsoever; only business connected them. “I’m doing nothing wrong,” she said with a lift of her chin. “And hunters don’t involve themselves in the kind of stuff I’m working on, anyway. Do they?”

There would be no need to. Why, the hunter should appreciate her efforts.

She heard the shower running. The image of Kaz in the buff popped into her thoughts. Now, that would be a beautiful sight to take in. The way his eyes had danced up her legs and to her breasts after he’d first woken had made her feel as if he were drawing his fingers along her skin. Slowly, lingering, feeling out the curves on her body. And she’d felt every long gaze seep through her pores.

She smiled at the delicious notion that he had been assessing her charms. In that moment of assessment, she had wanted to kiss him, but he’d been out of sorts. Probably she misunderstood his interest in her as woozy discombobulation produced by the spell surging through his system.

She was rushing toward happily ever after and wasn’t even sure the man was on the same page. Well, of course he wasn’t. They’d only just met. But his kisses had definitely turned a few of her pages.

She placed the clean plates on the drying rack. She couldn’t condone anyone causing harm to another living being. Not unless it was justified. If a vampire had harmed a human, or even killed them, then yes, she had no problem with a hunter ending their life. But not if the vamp was merely drinking from humans to survive—as they must do, for cold blood from blood bags did not sustain life. If they did only that, never taking too much, and leaving the victim enthralled in a sensual swoon, then hell no, she would never stand for a hunter thinking he had the right to end that vampire’s life.

Kaz was not the sort to irrationally take another’s life. She sensed that. He wore honor like a flag, though he didn’t wave it blatantly about as if he needed the accolades for his bravery. He’d only wanted to talk to the vampires last night. And she had plainly seen he had done his best not to harm them. To his detriment.

“I feel one hundred percent better.”

Kaz strolled into the kitchen, dark leather pants low on his hips and droplets of water still glistening on his broad, wide shoulders. His short, wet hair was tousled this way and that, and where there had been bruises last night on his chest, ribs, jaw and temple, now there were none, save the fading mark over his kidney.

She studied the raised scar on his shoulder. It looked like a brand, some sort of symbol. Where had she seen it before? Recently. He’d gotten it when he was a teenager? The things kids did when they were drunk.

“How does your side feel?” she asked. “That was an awful injury.”

“It’s still tender, but I’m good to go. You have my shirt?”

“Another half an hour for the dryer cycle to finish. Let’s sit.” She strolled into the living room and sat, patting the couch beside her. “If it’s still tender, I want you to relax until my magic has completed its work.”

“It was a healing spell, eh?” he asked. “You witches are into that kind of stuff? Healing?”

She noticed his gaze strayed to her cheek, and the scar, and could read his unspoken thoughts. “Witches are enlightened beings. We’re all about resonance, harmonics and frequency. As is the body both mortals and immortals inhabit.”

Zoë again patted the couch.

With a sigh, he sat next to her, stretching his arms across the back. Zoë wanted to snuggle against him and draw in his darkly sweet scent, but, sensing she may not have judged him correctly for his comment about creepy witches, she sat forward, elbows on her knees, and twisted her head to the side to eye him.

“The paranormal breeds tend to heal instantly,” she said, “or very close to that. Humans, on the other hand, take a lot longer. Without my magic you would have been swollen and groaning this morning.”

“Whatever you did, I appreciate it. You’re not at all creepy.”

She smiled and that summoned a smile on his lips, which were oh so thick, and his teeth gleamed like some kind of movie star.

Kissable was the word at the tip of her tongue, but Zoë feigned disinterest.

“You must have encountered a creepy witch at some time?” she asked.

“When I got this.” He tilted his head to reveal a curved tattoo behind his ear half covered by his hair.

Zoë inspected what looked like black tribal markings about an inch long and as wide as her finger. “Is that a spell tattoo?”

He nodded. “Keeps vamps from biting me. Not sure how it works, only that it does. Comes in handy in my line of work.”

“I imagine so. The only witch who does spell tattoos is—”

“Sayne,” he offered. “And if you don’t agree that dude is creepy, well then...”

Sayne, an ink witch who had no known home and traveled the world, inked spell tattoos. He was known to be quiet and respectful and very wise. But as for creepy? Yes, she had to concede he was, for the witch’s entire body was covered in tattoos. His face looked like a skull with black ink hollowing his eye sockets, and a partial brain exposed as if the top of his skull had been sawn off. The one time she’d met him, she’d been distracted by the inked image of a corpse worm crawling across that exposed brain.

“He is creepy, but kind,” Zoë said.

“Apparently, I’m only one of two humans the witch has ever agreed to do a tat for.”

“You must have charmed him.”

“Either that or the thick stack of cash I whipped out had something to do with it.”

“I’m glad you have the tattoo. Had one of them bitten you last night I might have had to rush out to save you. I wanted to fling some magic at them, but it tends to be less than reliable when I’m under stress.”

“That would not have been smart. I held my own. Mostly. I’m a little embarrassed you witnessed what is a rarity for me.”

“A rarity?”

“Getting my ass kicked.”

“Your ass is fine.” At least it looked well and fine in those snug jeans he wore. “It’s your kidney that took the licking. If I hadn’t been there you might have bled out in the alley.”

The man suddenly sat upright, puffing up his chest. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say bled out. I might have lain there in pain awhile, but eventually I would have pulled myself up and staggered home.”

“But you prefer that I decided to toss in a little magical intervention?”

“Can’t deny your touch made me feel better.” His fingers stroked her leg and landed on the ruffle above her knee. “Pretty.”

He’d said the same about her earlier. She threaded her fingers through his and he turned his up to clasp within hers. Zoë felt a grin start deep in her soul. Holding hands was so simple a connection. Yet it quickened her heartbeat and warmed her skin.

“Uh, I should...” She gripped his hand tighter when she sensed he wanted to tug away. “...get going soon.”

Why was he so insistent upon leaving? “Wait for your shirt to finish drying. Just a few more minutes.”

“Right.” He slapped a hand to his bare chest as if he’d forgotten he was half-naked.

Zoë had not.

She leaned across him to check his side. The bruising was almost gone. Take that, witches who daren’t dip into molecular magic. Their healing touch would take much longer.

“Looks better,” she said.

Their faces were close. She could feel his breath mingle with hers. And the only thing that could happen, did. They connected in a rush of need and desire. Spreading her hand across his chest, Zoë felt the steady pulse of his heartbeat as she deepened the kiss, wanting to take all of him into her being as if he were a new kind of magic she needed to study.

He pulled her closer, slipping a hand around the back of her head and into her hair. The possessive move sent a giddy thrill through Zoë’s system. She liked the way he took control, coaxing, as if the only place she belonged was against him.

Her body moved of its own volition, one leg sliding across his lap, until she straddled him. Nibbling his thick lower lip, she smiled against his mouth and his return smile made her giggle.

But he suddenly bracketed her face and pulled from the kiss, his eyes searching hers. “This changes things,” he said.

“What? This? You mean us this? Are we an us?”

“You. Being a witch. And me, being what I am.”

“No, it doesn’t. Why do things have to change? They’ve only just begun.” She kissed him again. He did not pull away. He wanted this connection as much as she did. She wouldn’t allow him to deny it. “I’m no danger to you.”

“No, you’re not, but whenever I think about you—and I think of you a lot—I thought you were human, like me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Is being human so important to you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He leaned in for another kiss, but Zoë moved back, unsure now. “It’s not important. Hell, yes, it is. It’s just— I’ve never done this with anyone who was not human. Kissing, and...making out.”

Trying not to be offended only made her all the more offended. Zoë began to slide off his lap when Kaz gripped her by the shoulders and, hands gliding down her back, pulled her to him forcefully, and landed a kiss on her mouth that she could not escape.

And did not want to escape.

While she did not care for any man who would rule out another breed as a potential romantic partner, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he’d not ever had a partner out of his breed, then his leeriness was justified. She wasn’t different from the average human female, save that she could cast magic, press her body and mind beyond average mortal limitations and could have immortality if she chose it. She hadn’t made up her mind regarding that life-prolonging measure yet.

“I said that wrong,” he offered, his thumbs stroking her cheeks as his eyes flitted back and forth between hers. For a moment, his thumb stroked the scar and Zoë winced. Was it the scar? Did that turn him off? “I’ve been saying all the wrong things, and yet, you still want to kiss me?”

“Kaz, resisting your kisses is futile.”

“I could say the same. Your mouth is better than blueberries in chia pudding, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe I can teach you that witches are nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

No, he wasn’t. But something about her made him stumble over his words and she suspected what it was. “Does the scar offend you?”

“What? No. Well—”

“It does bother you.” She pulled a strand of hair across her cheek, an involuntary action she’d developed after getting the scar a decade earlier. “I can’t heal myself.”

“Zoë, don’t hide it like that. It doesn’t bother me. You are—well, perfect would be boring. No one is perfect. What does bother me is that you obviously suffered to have received such an injury. I hate that someone did this to you, or something. Was it an accident?”

Zoë shrugged. “Kind of.”

Sighing heavily, he nodded. “I get that you don’t want to talk about it. I’m inexperienced with this conversation kind of stuff. I’m more of an action man.”

“More kisses, less talk? Your kisses are toe-curlers. And as a hunter, you must know about all the various breeds, so it’s not as if you’re a bumbling human who has no clue about witches.”

“True. You’re as close to human as any breed gets. Though I’m not sure how all the magic works. Let’s just say I’m much better at running away from things like this. Okay?”

Things like emotional stuff, she suspected. What guy was good about that kind of thing? But she wasn’t going to award him any prizes for such honesty. If she expected more of him, he would give it to her.

“You haven’t fled yet, so I’ll mark myself as lucky.”

“But I’m trying, trust me. I’d be at the door right now were you not sitting on me.”

“That creepy, huh?”

He shook his head and kissed her quickly on the mouth. “I like you, Zoë. But there are things going on in my life right now that could complicate the good stuff happening between the two of us. And believe me, this is very good.”

“Like things with vampires?”

“Always with vampires. I’m currently working a job that I don’t want you to get tangled up in.”

“I’ve no desire to tread the grounds a hunter walks. But...” She traced her fingers down his bare chest. “I do want to tread this. You can’t work all the time, can you? Daylight doesn’t seem the optimal time to track vampires.”

“It’s not, but—”

“Then kiss me again.”

“Sounds good, in theory.”

“You really are skittish.”

He heaved out a sigh.

Zoë sensed a distraction from his deeper thoughts was a necessity. Leaning in, she lingered before his mouth, not touching, waiting to see if he would take what she offered. She dusted her lashes and they fluttered against his cheek.

Kaz’s kisses touched her lips, her cheeks, the lobes of her ears. He explored down her neck and skimmed his tongue across her breasts’ exposed curves. The square neckline did not allow for further access, and Zoë bemoaned the prim dress style.

But no. She did and she did not want to tear off clothing. While rushing into kisses, and tastes and touches could lead to sex, that was an entirely different chapter she hadn’t even gotten to yet. Happily ever after would come with patience and a slower turn of the page.

She didn’t want to scare him off. Especially when he’d confessed an urgent need for escape. Slow and exploratory felt right. Because she knew little about him, and suspected she had only peeled back the first layer of Kaspar Rothstein. Beneath, he harbored many layers that she would be wise to cautiously seek out and carefully explore.

The dryer beeped that the cycle had finished. Kaz nuzzled his kisses between her breasts and then up along her neck.

“You smell good. Peaches?”

“And cinnamon. You like? Men usually do like the food scents.”

“Speaking of which, I’m starving.”

“You should have finished the chia pudding.”

“Yeah, I’m not so into all that healthy stuff.”

“You should be.” She bent to kiss his pectoral. “You want to keep these muscles hard as rocks, you should feed them properly.”

“I eat well. Protein and veggies. But chia? That doesn’t sound remotely foodlike.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. It does require a certain palate. I can make you some lunch. Or how about I take you out for a bite?”

“Are you talking about vampires now, because I’m not sure...”

“The bites I have to offer don’t involve fangs.”

“A lunch date?”

She nodded, hopeful for his positive answer. “We can go Dutch. Come on, hunter. I dare you to be seen in public with a creepy witch.”

His smirk wasn’t so horrible; in fact, it was sexy shy as his mouth gradually caught up to the smile that already beamed in his eye. “Lunch, it is.”