The Slayer by Theresa Meyers Page B

her personally; she could tell that without being able to read his thoughts. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Is that enough time for you to talk to the captain?”
    He gave a nod, but a spark still lingered in his eyes.
    â€œYou want to tell me why Doc Morpheus and those shifters were after us tonight?” he asked, his voice low.
    â€œOh, they weren’t after me, Mr. Jackson. They were after you. Rumors are circulating among the Darkin that the Book of Legend may be reunited, possibly by the Chosen.” She waited for him to deny it, and when he didn’t, Alexa slipped below the level of his arm and walked away. The swish of her taffeta skirts sounded loud to her own ears, but didn’t drown out the rush of ichor under her skin.
    While vampires might not have a pulse, the immortal ichor, sustained by the life force they withdrew from blood, still ran hot and fast through their veins—and it was certainly doing so now. She held a hand to her heated cheek. Certainly vampire skin was still several degrees cooler than that of a live mortal, but for her it was nearly a blush.
    The snick of the door shutting at the end of the hallway indicated he’d entered the bridge. Only then did Alexa hazard a quick glance behind her. He stood there watching her, his gaze intense and assessing. Alexa stifled a gasp, but not quickly enough to stop the rapid intake of breath. He’d deliberately opened the door slightly and let it swing shut and waited for her reaction.
    She swung about, mortified that he’d caught her, and balled her fists at her sides, then marched around the corner, where she promptly sagged against the wall. Insufferable Hunter. Alexa found she was just as angry with him for tricking her as she was with herself for being affected by him. Why on earth did she react to him in this manner? The feelings were dangerous. Just like the man.

Chapter 4
    Alexa didn’t see Mr. Jackson again until the sun had already turned the horizon a brilliant apricot over the reddish rock rim of the mountains. Her position on the observation deck, located on the prow, gave her a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree vantage point to the fiery view of the sunrise.
    It was so different from the court’s location in the Carpathian mountains. Just seeing the rugged beauty of the landscape made her feel, dare she say it? Alive.
    She’d deliberately sent Enric back to the bridge to guide the Hunter to his cabin. Under different circumstances she would’ve escorted a special guest to his quarters personally. But the less time she spent in Mr. Jackson’s company, the better.
    Over the centuries she’d met hundreds of handsome men. Men of power and prestige. Men who’d satisfied her in many ways. Some she’d cared for. Others had professed their love for her. She was intimately aware of the power of physical attraction. And gods only knew, had acted on it with wild abandon many, many times. But there was something. . . different about Mr. Jackson. Oh, he was a handsome man with those stormy blue eyes and the well hidden smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle delightfully.
    Yes, he was tall. And strong. And appealing on a man-woman level. But there was something else—a hard-to-put-her-finger-on danger that emanated from the lawman like a strong aphrodisiac. The wildness of him, she reminded herself, pressing her fist against the giant window and the spectacular view of the rising sun.
    Jackson was layered. Tightly layered, and he challenged her on every level.
    The lawman was intriguing.
    Fascinating.
    Unattainable.
    Because no matter how much he attracted her, no matter how captivating he might be, he was here for one purpose, and one purpose only: to help her find and recover the stolen piece of the Book of Legend and stop Rathe.
    Alexa knew herself well enough to know a temptation when she saw one. Besides, feeding from him would be the ultimate in bad taste as the host