initially thought.
The place was too quiet.
No khissmates socialized in the wrought-iron lounge chairs on the partially covered side patio. Most of the vehicles—luxury sports cars and spiffed-out SUVs that normally littered the parking lot—were gone. Shadows drenched the side alleys and the front door overhang. No softly glowing red lights illuminated the curved pathways around the building. Thick fog rolled over the hugely vaulted roof, giving cover to otherworldly things that may’ve decided to crash a vamp party.
Good thing Slade was at her side. If a therian even breathed downwind of this place, he would know it.
Slade parked behind the haven and shot Dylan a sideways glance before opening his door.
“I’m not staying in the car, so don’t even say it.” She slid out and stormed around to his side. He sighed as he closed his own door and locked the Hummer. “By now you should know better than to even think it,” she said.
“Baby, I wasn’t even going to go there.”
Wind picked up, blowing scraps of paper around the deserted alley. Slade caught one of the wild mahogany curls fluttering about her face and secured it behind her ear. He palmed the small of her back as he walked toward the back door.
“Besides, you have nothing to worry about. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” Dylan lifted up her blue cable-knit sweater and revealed a sterling silver dagger with a diamond-encrusted handle.
“Well, doesn’t that look familiar.”
“I never leave home without it. Just in case.” He’d given it to her not long after the Valcdana ceremony. When he’d drained her of her blood, then let her fill up on him to pull herself back amongst the living. It was the ultimate sacrifice, bonding them for the remainder of their extended lives.
“Well, get ready to use it,” he said as he pulled open the door. “Hiram said there’s something that looks like dark shadows terrorizing the haven.”
Chapter Seven
“Drink from acceptable sources for nourishment. Drink from your lover for pleasure. Drink to kill, and you’ll not only find yourself without a khiss, but without hope.”
San Francisco Haven Rule #4
D YLAN’S BROWS KNIT together. “Shadows?”
As her mind backtracked to the books on vampire lore she’d skimmed through the years, she recalled reading something about elders’ spirits coming to life—living, breathing like some sort of demonic ghost from the other side. She tried to remember something more than a fanciful tale meant to scare vampires into believing elders were all-powerful, but came up blank.
“I know that skeptical gleam in your eye,” Slade said, severing her concentration. “But therians can only shift into living forms, so you can rule that out right now.”
She didn’t mean to insinuate therians were involved. But now that he’d mentioned it, wasn’t it an option worth considering?
She roped her hand around his, keeping her other hand free for the dagger in case he was wrong. Therians were suckers for silver. One swipe of Mathilda through the heart and a therian would fall in a heartflicker. One slip of her dagger’s feminine name to Slade and he’d fall into a fit of hysteria. “You were able to change into a vampire when it’d never been done before. Are you sure this thing can’t be therian?”
“I was able to shift into a vampire because I have both vampire and therian blood.” He led her down a wide hallway cloaked in shadows and candlelight. “I can tell you this thing isn’t either of those.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Because I’m one of a kind.” With a smart-ass smirk, Slade surveyed the flickering amber lights, listened to subtle creaks of the old, dark building, and took a few deep breaths of the heavily fragranced air. “Whatever it is, I don’t like the vibe it’s giving off. Can you feel that?”
She sent out what Slade called her spidey-senses, which were terribly out of practice. What was she trying
The place was too quiet.
No khissmates socialized in the wrought-iron lounge chairs on the partially covered side patio. Most of the vehicles—luxury sports cars and spiffed-out SUVs that normally littered the parking lot—were gone. Shadows drenched the side alleys and the front door overhang. No softly glowing red lights illuminated the curved pathways around the building. Thick fog rolled over the hugely vaulted roof, giving cover to otherworldly things that may’ve decided to crash a vamp party.
Good thing Slade was at her side. If a therian even breathed downwind of this place, he would know it.
Slade parked behind the haven and shot Dylan a sideways glance before opening his door.
“I’m not staying in the car, so don’t even say it.” She slid out and stormed around to his side. He sighed as he closed his own door and locked the Hummer. “By now you should know better than to even think it,” she said.
“Baby, I wasn’t even going to go there.”
Wind picked up, blowing scraps of paper around the deserted alley. Slade caught one of the wild mahogany curls fluttering about her face and secured it behind her ear. He palmed the small of her back as he walked toward the back door.
“Besides, you have nothing to worry about. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” Dylan lifted up her blue cable-knit sweater and revealed a sterling silver dagger with a diamond-encrusted handle.
“Well, doesn’t that look familiar.”
“I never leave home without it. Just in case.” He’d given it to her not long after the Valcdana ceremony. When he’d drained her of her blood, then let her fill up on him to pull herself back amongst the living. It was the ultimate sacrifice, bonding them for the remainder of their extended lives.
“Well, get ready to use it,” he said as he pulled open the door. “Hiram said there’s something that looks like dark shadows terrorizing the haven.”
Chapter Seven
“Drink from acceptable sources for nourishment. Drink from your lover for pleasure. Drink to kill, and you’ll not only find yourself without a khiss, but without hope.”
San Francisco Haven Rule #4
D YLAN’S BROWS KNIT together. “Shadows?”
As her mind backtracked to the books on vampire lore she’d skimmed through the years, she recalled reading something about elders’ spirits coming to life—living, breathing like some sort of demonic ghost from the other side. She tried to remember something more than a fanciful tale meant to scare vampires into believing elders were all-powerful, but came up blank.
“I know that skeptical gleam in your eye,” Slade said, severing her concentration. “But therians can only shift into living forms, so you can rule that out right now.”
She didn’t mean to insinuate therians were involved. But now that he’d mentioned it, wasn’t it an option worth considering?
She roped her hand around his, keeping her other hand free for the dagger in case he was wrong. Therians were suckers for silver. One swipe of Mathilda through the heart and a therian would fall in a heartflicker. One slip of her dagger’s feminine name to Slade and he’d fall into a fit of hysteria. “You were able to change into a vampire when it’d never been done before. Are you sure this thing can’t be therian?”
“I was able to shift into a vampire because I have both vampire and therian blood.” He led her down a wide hallway cloaked in shadows and candlelight. “I can tell you this thing isn’t either of those.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Because I’m one of a kind.” With a smart-ass smirk, Slade surveyed the flickering amber lights, listened to subtle creaks of the old, dark building, and took a few deep breaths of the heavily fragranced air. “Whatever it is, I don’t like the vibe it’s giving off. Can you feel that?”
She sent out what Slade called her spidey-senses, which were terribly out of practice. What was she trying
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