Hunting His Vampire Mate (Blood Bonded Mates #4)

CHAPTER THREE || DANNY

“ W ho did you two say you were with?” The county sheriff, Liz Dennison, leaned forward in her seat and peered at us through a narrowed gaze. She was a middle-aged woman with dark skin and even darker eyes, and the suspicion on her face was impossible to mistake as we sat across from her the following afternoon. Her uniform was rumpled, there were spots of grease in places and a few stains that hadn’t quite washed out all the way. Like us, most of her meals were probably eaten hastily out of a fast-food bag.

“We’re part of a task force, operating out of Salt Lake City,” I lied smoothly, flashing her my badge. It was a fake, but a good one. It was backed up by a gentle compulsion spell that we’d blackmailed one of our witch contacts in Las Vegas into—albeit grudgingly—casting over it. Sheriff Dennison frowned, but she visibly relaxed a notch. I added, “We believe that the murders in your town may be connected to a string of similar killings that happened in our area. The perp in our case was never caught.”

More lies, of course. But plausible ones.

Sheriff Dennison narrowed her eyes at us still further, seeming like she was trying to size us up. After checking into the motel earlier, we’d changed into our matching black suits with freshly ironed white shirts. So long as we both looked the part, talked the talk, and had the badges to go along with it, most folks didn’t bother to look too much deeper.

“You think he’s moved, then? Your killer?”

Michael sat next to me and flashed his trademark FBI ‘gotcha’ smile, except without any real teeth behind it.

We’d played this role a hundred times.

“He?” Michael asked, jotting something down in the fancy little notebook he always brought to these types of meetings. He glanced back up at her, arching a brow. “Do you have reason to believe the perpetrator is male, Sheriff?”

“Most serial killers are men, Officer—” She broke off, frowning at him. “Huh. What did you say your name was?”

“It’s Special Agent,” Michael corrected her, flashing his best shit-eating grin, the one he always used to charm the locals. “Special Agent Hollens.”

“You got a first name?”

Michael winced. “Eunice.”

Sheriff Dennison let out a bark of genuine laughter. “You’re joking. Eunice ?”

“I wish I were,” Michael chuckled alongside her, shaking his head ruefully, and then smiling at her again. There was a reason Michael was usually the one to do all the talking in these types of situations. Because he was charming as hell when he wanted to be, and he could sell bullshit like there was no tomorrow.

It was a common tactic of ours, for one of us to pretend to have a truly embarrassing first name, in order to break the ice with local law enforcement. We’d had nearly this exact conversation in at least a dozen places, and it had never failed. Though, that was mostly Michael’s delivery.

He added, “My parents were jerks, Sheriff. You don’t know the half of it. Please just call me Hollens. Everyone else does.”

“You’re not going to make me call you Special Agent Hollens?”

“Not unless you want to.” Another disarming smile, complete with dimples and sparkling eyes. My heart might’ve beat just a touch faster at the sight of it.

That wasn’t an especially heterosexual reaction to have, right?

Oblivious to my sudden confusion, Michael added, “Just Hollens will do.”

Sheriff Dennison shook her head, still chuckling. “Okay, then, Hollens. If your case really is similar to ours, then you’ll be able to tell me a little about these victims. If your details match up with my case, I’ll give you whatever information you need.”

Michael didn’t miss a beat.

“First off, your victims are an even mix of men and women. This guy doesn’t have a specific type. The only things they had in common were that they all in the prime of their lives. They were murdered and their bodies were dumped in the street afterward, like they were garbage.” Michael lost his smile as he watched her. “And they all had puncture wounds on the side of the neck, which tore open the carotid artery.”

All the amusement drained away from Sheriff Dennison’s face, and it was replaced with a flash of genuine anger. No doubt, the folks in this town were demanding answers she couldn’t provide. They wanted solutions. And, from the look of it, she legitimately seemed to want that too. I’d been doing this so long that I could tell when the local law didn’t give a shit anymore, but she was one of the ones who still did.

Michael went on. “The wounds look almost like bite marks at first glance. But they’re way cleaner than what an animal would do to a person. Our best guess is that this killer takes these victims to the kill site, uses a weapon of some sort to puncture the carotid artery, drains out the blood for unknown reasons, and then dumps the body somewhere out in public.” He paused. “We assume that only because the bodies are almost completely bloodless when they’re found. But the dump sites are really clean. Surgical, even.”

Sheriff Dennison stared at him, her eyes widening at that last bit in a way that let me know Michael had scored a direct hit. Of course, given that we already knew exactly what type of creature this was, that was to be expected.

Still, poker probably wasn’t her game.

“It was a nightmare to keep the word ‘vampire’ out of the local papers,” Michael added, with a small laugh. “Could you imagine the media circus if the press caught wind of the exact nature of these killings? Hell, we’d be giving this jerk exactly the attention he wants, right? That’s got to be at least part of the reason he’s out there killing all these innocent people like this, right? I mean, what other reason could there possibly be?”

This was always a bad moment, where we intentionally tipped our hand maybe just a hair too much, in our little dance to weasel information out of the local badges. Usually, having enough details about unexplainable killings helps us to sell our story. After all, if we weren’t law too, then how on earth would we know all that? And if we intentionally say a little too much, it seems like we actually give a shit. But that part only ever worked on people who actually gave a shit themselves, though. Like Sheriff Dennison.

“We’re trying to bring whoever is doing this to justice,” I added, going for the coup de grace. The final two-step in our little tap dance. It helped that it was extremely true. “These victims deserve that much, don’t they? That’s all we want.”

She looked back and forth between us again, and then settled back in her chair, her hands steepled in front of her. I watched it as all the suspicion drained away from her expression. She nodded, as if to herself, then let out a small exhalation of breath.

“Well, then. Seems like we’re on the same team. What do you boys need to know?”

* * *

“I look hot, right?” Michael asked hours later, grinning back at me in the mirror above the narrow vanity. He wagged his eyebrows suggestively. “I mean, right?”

He was dressed in a pair of black pants with way too many zippers, one size too tight, which fitted him in ways that left little to the imagination, especially the—erm—back of him. And did my gaze linger?

Yes.

Did that help me stop being such a goddamn coward?

Not even close.

His shirt for the evening was a sleeveless black mesh number that showed off the muscle definition in his chest, abdomen, and arms well enough.

Would I be into it, when the time came? The idea of running my hands over those muscles wasn’t unappealing, the way it would have been with almost anyone else. In fact, the idea sent a small thrill of… something… through me.

It almost like anticipation. Or was that just fear? Why was it so hard to tell?

He’d even added a liberal amount of body glitter—mixed with powdered silver, of course—to his neck. Given that most vampires were bisexual, it probably wouldn’t matter much what gender of monster he ran across—he looked like vamp bait. And the powdered silver would mean that any vamp who did try to bite him would be in for a nasty surprise. Silver saps away a vampire’s superhuman strength and speed, making it a much fairer fight.

“You do look the part,” I agreed, trying to control the discomfort I felt.

For what felt like the thousandth time, I found myself wondering: was I attracted to him? Why was it so confusing to know whether I actually found him sexually appealing? Shouldn’t that have been extremely obvious? The thing is, even with Becca, it hadn’t been. Not at first, at least.

Michael shot me a wounded look. “All this effort. Totally wasted on you.”

“You look fine.” Then I heard the words that had just flown out of my own mouth, because I quickly amended, “Err, I mean good . You look good.”

Michael snorted, and from his reflection in the mirror, I could see his lips twitching with amusement. “Is that your final answer?”

“There’s a spectacular chance that you’ll get jumped by a murderous vampire tonight.”

“Awww, you say the sweetest things,” Michael drawled, chuckling. He turned around and gave me a once-over before grimacing. “You know, flannel isn’t really appropriate club-wear.”

“I’ll change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt,” I told him. At his warning look, I sighed and added, “A shirt that’s too small to be comfortable. Jeez, I know, I know. We talked about this. I heard you.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Michael grinned at me, his gray eyes dancing with amusement.

And for just an instant, I could see what all of his nightly conquests saw. I could see the boyish sparkle. The kind, open, friendly face with the strong jawline. Eyes that were bright and happy but could turn a little dangerous in an instant. The smile that was like coming home at the end of a long day. There was stubble on his chin, which was rapidly becoming a beard. If I cupped his face in my hand, would it be rough and uncomfortable under my touch? Or would it feel… nice?

“So, let’s go over the plan again,” he said. “Since I’m the bait tonight.”

“You’re the bait,” I told him, arching an eyebrow. “That’s the whole plan. You’ll go out on the dance floor and just generally be you for a couple hours. And meanwhile I’ll be nursing my drink on the sidelines, watching as literally every twink in a twenty-mile radius suddenly materializes out of thin air to come and dance up on you.”

“Lovely. Twinks. My favorite,” Michael rolled his eyes. “Maybe someone who’s old enough to have a decent start on their 401K could factor into this fantasy of yours?”

“Wish it could. But you’re total twink-bait,” I informed him seriously, feeling ridiculously happy that he was talking to me . It was almost like nothing had ever happened between us at all. It chased away the anxiety I felt. I added, “I said it and I meant it.”

“Don’t I know it.” He grimaced. “Anyway, how does this catch us any vampires?”

“If Dennison was giving us good info, the majority of the victims went missing from this bar, before turning up dead. So, this place will probably have at least one vampire tonight. Maybe. We just need them to try to get you alone, then we can hopefully get the location of the nest out of them before we take them out.”

“Can’t we just call Tobias and have him do a spell to find out where they’re holed up?”

“We’re not supposed to involve them in the actual hunt,” I reminded him. “They’re our allies. They’re not our friends.”

“Speak for yourself. I’ll probably end up being the best man at their wedding.”

“Wait. They’re getting married?” Even though this piece of news startled me, I couldn’t help the way I grinned. But why wouldn’t Bryan have texted to tell me that? “Good for them.”

“Well, no,” he admitted, deflating a little bit. “Not yet. But, I mean, they’re literally fated to be together, right? So, they’ll get married eventually. It’s only a matter of time.” He gave me a smug smile. “And when they do, I’m sure they’ll ask me to be their best man. Tobias will, at least.”

“You tried to kill them both four months ago,” I reminded him.

“It was four and a half months ago, and technically I just tried to kill Bryan. We only kidnapped Tobias. It’s way different.” He paused. “Besides, it’s all forgiven, right? Total misunderstanding. Tobias texts me almost every day. I even like Bryan. Sort of. Mostly.”

“Yeah, Bryan’s okay,” I agreed, a little too casual.

“Whatever.” Michael’s eyes narrowed. “He called you last week—”

“Two weeks ago.”

Michael snorted at that. “Okay, fine. Two weeks ago. And y’all were on the phone for almost an hour, just shooting the shit like you’ve known each other your whole fucking lives. How in the hell is that not friendship?”

Though his tone was jovial, I felt another sharp stab of fear in my gut. Because this was another tangible reminder, wasn’t it?

Ever since meeting Tobias and Bryan, the raw fury that had always driven Michael to hunt was gone. And every single day, it seemed more and more apparent to me that he was just going through the motions. And if his need was gone, he’d just wind up leaving eventually, wouldn’t he? He’d go back to the normal life he’d lost—he’d start over somewhere else and get the white picket fence he deserved. And I’d still be here. Alone. Hunting monsters was the only thing I knew how to do. I didn’t know how to be any other person other than the one I’d been raised to be.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah, okay what ?” Michael demanded, raising his eyebrows.

“Bryan’s a friend.”

“Was that really so hard?”

“A little. I mean, you’re kind of imposing. With the broad shoulders, the muscles, and all the guns.”

Michael flashed me an impish grin. “Most guys don’t mind.”

My face began to heat up at the memory of how I had all but thrown myself at him the night before, and he had gently rebuffed me. What was stopping him?

I let out a breath, forcing myself to sound normal. “Maybe they’ll just live in sin forever.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “They wouldn’t.”

“I mean, if they’re already fated to be together, why do they need a piece of paper saying so?”

“Marriage isn’t just a piece of paper!” Michael sounded scandalized. “It’s telling the world you belong to each other! It’s showing up every day and loving someone else, even when it’s hard and messy and inconvenient. It’s being best friends and lovers and partners—being on the same team. It’s work and it’s good and it’s not a piece of paper!”

I blinked rapidly, startled by the vehemence of his reaction.

Michael seemed to realize it too, because something cracked right down the middle in his expression, and I glimpsed the abrupt pain that leaked out. He let out a short exhale that hissed between his teeth.

“I’m sorry. Joshua and I…” He trailed off, his jaw going tight and his eyes abruptly becoming shiny. He looked away from me.

“You guys were engaged?” I asked, startled. He had never told me that. In fact, he talked about his old boyfriend only rarely. Even after it had first happened—even after he’d first lost Joshua—every time I had asked about him, Michael had shut down on me. He’d been doing that less and less over the last four months though. And Joshua’s name had come up more often, too.

Almost like Michael was finally processing his trauma or something.

The thought filled me with selfish dread. How long until he left? Would I even see it coming?

“No,” he told me, bringing my attention back to the present moment. “But we would have been… if things had been different. I was going to propose. I bought the ring and everything. I was carrying it everywhere with me, waiting for the right moment. I pretty much already knew he would have said yes to me,” he added, still looking away. He swallowed. “Then h-he—”

His breath hitched and he broke off, and his shoulders hunched in ever-so-slightly, like he was protecting himself from a blow. I could practically feel the pain radiating off of him, like it was a tangible thing that was hurting him.

All of my selfish fears evaporated in an instant.

Because I could see that this was hurting him bad . In a way that no monster ever could.

I didn’t even have to think about it.

I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around him, drawing his body against mine in a firm and deep hug. It wasn’t the way men hug, with one arm, bodies turned away from each other. This was all of me, giving comfort to all of him, in a completely open and visceral way, all walls down.

Because I instinctively knew that was what he fucking needed .

For an instant, he froze.

Michael and I don’t hug. Ever. He knows this. I know this. We both know it.

But screw it.

I had already realized that I loved him, hadn’t I? And now I was having a weird sexual identity crisis as a result. How much more confusing than that could things ever possibly get between us?

When it became clear to both of us that I wasn’t going to break the hug immediately, Michael wrapped his arms around me too. He was only an inch taller than me, so it was easy for him to put his head on my shoulder. And he did exactly that for a long moment.

It was surprisingly… nice.

Something hot and fierce and protective surged up in me at the intimacy of his gesture. He didn’t feel the way a woman would have; his body was harder and stronger than that. But there was still a softness to the moment, a tenderness to it, that I hadn’t realized I had been needing—perhaps for years—until I was caught up smack-dab in the middle of it.

I craved it like water. I craved it like breathing. I craved him.

Arousal tore through me at his nearness, and I began to grow hard.

The suddenness—and physicality—of the desire startled me. But it was followed by a crashing sense of relief. Maybe my body was getting the memo that I wasn’t entirely straight, after all.

And it didn’t feel weird, like I had been afraid of. It felt… good.

Maybe—

Michael broke away. He met my eyes for only an instant. I expected him to make a joke, or to tease me, or to say something completely random and off-the-wall to shatter the closeness between us, which I knew he had to have felt too.

But instead, he looked me right in the eye and said, “Thank you.”

Something went tight in my throat and my jaw all at the same time, and it felt like my insides were all knotted up. I could hardly even force the words out, but they were too important to me not to say.

“You know that I’d do anything for you.”

Michael’s eyes were still a little shinier than they should have been, but his smile came back, though it was maybe a bit wry. He replied, “You know what? I think I might have noticed that.”