encountered, this guy had donned a clean white T-shirt. White wasn't a color one typically saw on the undead.
The women at his sides looked nothing alike, but they wore the same cold expression. Izzie shivered and resumed pressing against her restraints, harder this time.
Not. Good.
The male vamp offered what passed for an authentic smile, and motioned broadly. "We had to take precautions," he said. "You've made quite a name for yourself among our kind, you understand."
Izzie took another cursory glance around the room. Nothing had changed. The ceilings were high —fifteen feet or so above her head. "Yeah, sure," she replied. "I understand."
" We're very impressed," said one of the women. The one on the left—a blonde. "You're one of the most practiced hunters we've come across."
" Yes, dearie," the other woman agreed. Her large eyes flashed with hungry eagerness. "Very adept."
Izzie wet her lips. "So what is this? Did I win the Publisher's Clearing House?"
" We needed to get you alone," the male said, folding his hands on the table. "Again, I apologize for the circumstances, but you have proven to be a little unpredictable."
The blonde woman grinned. "Those guys last night. And then earlier tonight with Ryker."
" Yes," the other woman, a brunette, agreed. "Unpredictable."
Izzie 's spirits collapsed, and the barrier separating her from the remainder of the night came crashing down. She remembered him, then. Ryker. The sexy drink of danger who had apparently stalked her for days and then cornered her at The Wall. She remembered racing for the door, remembered needing to get the fuck out of there before her defenses lowered to a point of no return.
She remembered that and nothing else. Nothing but black.
"I don't know who you are, but this is the mother of all bad ideas." Izzie pressed against her bindings, fighting a wince. "Someone will—"
" Come looking?" the male vamp ventured.
She snickered. "Come finding is more like it. He'll bring Hell with him, too."
" I have no doubt."
The satisfied smile on the vamp 's lips translated into a sick sensation in Izzie's gut. Either he knew about Wright or didn't care that other hunters were in the area. Either answer wasn't promising. If this vamp and his floozies weren't worried about the scary-ass motherfucker she traveled with, she was in deep shit. Everyone was afraid of Wright. Even his daughter at times. Hell, even Izzie.
" Allow me to introduce myself." The male vamp rolled his shoulders back with an air of self-importance. "I am Prentiss. These are my associates, Juliette"—the dark-haired woman on the right curtsied—"and Moira"—the blonde bowed her head.
Prentiss pressed forward and laced his fingers together. "And you are Elizabeth Jane Bennett."
Shit.
They knew her name. Everything around her jumped from bad to catastrophic. Hunters weren't supposed to have names. They were shadows in the night, the celestial boogeyman to any unearthly beast that dared prey on human flesh. Names brought them out of the dark—names made them soft and killable.
Names meant she and Wright had been in St. Louis a day too long.
Prentiss smirked as though sensing her discomfort. "Elizabeth Bennett. Isn't there a book about you?"
" My mother loved Jane Austen." Izzie's throat tightened. It was one of the only things she knew about her mother.
" It's a lovely name."
" I prefer Izzie."
" Then Izzie it is." Prentiss sighed and leaned back. "First, I do apologize for the rough accommodations. As I said, we did have to take precautions in taking you in. We needed to get your attention."
She glanced down. "Consider it got."
" Rest assured, we mean no harm."
" You can see how that's a little hard to believe."
" We're the St. Louis chapter of C.R.O.S.S."
" Cross?"
" Community Representatives of Subhuman Species," Moira, the blonde, supplied. "We're an organization dedicated to making the existence of vampires and all otherworldly creatures a matter of public
The women at his sides looked nothing alike, but they wore the same cold expression. Izzie shivered and resumed pressing against her restraints, harder this time.
Not. Good.
The male vamp offered what passed for an authentic smile, and motioned broadly. "We had to take precautions," he said. "You've made quite a name for yourself among our kind, you understand."
Izzie took another cursory glance around the room. Nothing had changed. The ceilings were high —fifteen feet or so above her head. "Yeah, sure," she replied. "I understand."
" We're very impressed," said one of the women. The one on the left—a blonde. "You're one of the most practiced hunters we've come across."
" Yes, dearie," the other woman agreed. Her large eyes flashed with hungry eagerness. "Very adept."
Izzie wet her lips. "So what is this? Did I win the Publisher's Clearing House?"
" We needed to get you alone," the male said, folding his hands on the table. "Again, I apologize for the circumstances, but you have proven to be a little unpredictable."
The blonde woman grinned. "Those guys last night. And then earlier tonight with Ryker."
" Yes," the other woman, a brunette, agreed. "Unpredictable."
Izzie 's spirits collapsed, and the barrier separating her from the remainder of the night came crashing down. She remembered him, then. Ryker. The sexy drink of danger who had apparently stalked her for days and then cornered her at The Wall. She remembered racing for the door, remembered needing to get the fuck out of there before her defenses lowered to a point of no return.
She remembered that and nothing else. Nothing but black.
"I don't know who you are, but this is the mother of all bad ideas." Izzie pressed against her bindings, fighting a wince. "Someone will—"
" Come looking?" the male vamp ventured.
She snickered. "Come finding is more like it. He'll bring Hell with him, too."
" I have no doubt."
The satisfied smile on the vamp 's lips translated into a sick sensation in Izzie's gut. Either he knew about Wright or didn't care that other hunters were in the area. Either answer wasn't promising. If this vamp and his floozies weren't worried about the scary-ass motherfucker she traveled with, she was in deep shit. Everyone was afraid of Wright. Even his daughter at times. Hell, even Izzie.
" Allow me to introduce myself." The male vamp rolled his shoulders back with an air of self-importance. "I am Prentiss. These are my associates, Juliette"—the dark-haired woman on the right curtsied—"and Moira"—the blonde bowed her head.
Prentiss pressed forward and laced his fingers together. "And you are Elizabeth Jane Bennett."
Shit.
They knew her name. Everything around her jumped from bad to catastrophic. Hunters weren't supposed to have names. They were shadows in the night, the celestial boogeyman to any unearthly beast that dared prey on human flesh. Names brought them out of the dark—names made them soft and killable.
Names meant she and Wright had been in St. Louis a day too long.
Prentiss smirked as though sensing her discomfort. "Elizabeth Bennett. Isn't there a book about you?"
" My mother loved Jane Austen." Izzie's throat tightened. It was one of the only things she knew about her mother.
" It's a lovely name."
" I prefer Izzie."
" Then Izzie it is." Prentiss sighed and leaned back. "First, I do apologize for the rough accommodations. As I said, we did have to take precautions in taking you in. We needed to get your attention."
She glanced down. "Consider it got."
" Rest assured, we mean no harm."
" You can see how that's a little hard to believe."
" We're the St. Louis chapter of C.R.O.S.S."
" Cross?"
" Community Representatives of Subhuman Species," Moira, the blonde, supplied. "We're an organization dedicated to making the existence of vampires and all otherworldly creatures a matter of public
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