Page 7 of Bullets and Blood (Hunting Hearts #1)

‘Hotel’ was really the wrong word for the apartments.

Some people lived in them all year round, but most were for holiday makers.

He’d enquired about the price, but it had been well beyond what he could afford, so he’d taken the granny flat.

It was galling to know he had money that could ease his plight, but using it would alert those he was fleeing from to where he was.

He strolled up to the apartment Orlan had named, watchful, careful, and silent.

He was waiting for an attack, but he couldn’t smell any other vampires in the area.

He loosened the blade at his wrist and shifted the weight of the bottle in his hand, then he knocked, his body loose and ready for a fight.

Footsteps. One set. Then the door was unlocked and opened.

Orlan was limned by light, momentarily ruining Nix’s night vision and making him blink. He stepped back out of habit, hand holding the wine lifting.

“You brought wine,” Orlan said as though shocked.

“Um, yeah.” He couldn’t use it as a club if Orlan was being friendly. “You didn’t get to finish your tasting.” He held the bottle out, not sure what else he could do.

“Thanks.” Orlan stepped aside. “I invite you in under the formal rules of hospitality.”

That vampires needed inviting in was a human myth.

But a vampire that had been invited in and offered formal hospitality couldn’t lash out at a host—that was extremely poor form—nor could the host attack.

The Orlans were known for breaking hospitality rules, though, so Nix took it with a pinch of salt and stayed on alert as Orlan shut the door behind him and locked it.

“Weapons?” Orlan opened a drawer to reveal a gun and two knives.

Nix removed the stiletto blade and the garrote and added them to the pile but kept the one in his boot.

He expected Orlan to have something on him even though they were both disarming.

Nix picked up the gun, removed the clip, and tipped the bullets out.

They gleamed in the light. He was fast but not fast enough to dodge bullets. “Silver hollow point?”

“Yes.”

Nik nodded and swallowed. Maximum damage. Cruel and unnecessary when a regular silver bullet would stop a vampire from healing and make them vulnerable. They were the Orlan’s bullet of choice. “Were you there?”

He didn’t need to say where. Orlan would know.

“No.”

Nix glanced at him. Was he telling the truth? “Why do you want to talk? Why not just shoot me and leave me for the sun?”

The apartment was bigger than his place, all done up in bland beiges and ocean prints that told him nothing about the man standing in front of him.

“That’s not my job.”

“What is?”

“To make sure you are escorted home.” Twice, Orlan had claimed that. Either he was telling the truth or following a script.

“This is my home,” Nix said through gritted teeth. Not his territory, though.

“That all your weapons?”

“No gun if that’s what you’re asking.”

Orlan squatted and ran his hand down the back of Nix’s calf. Nix’s body got entirely the wrong idea. Orlan pulled the knife out of Nix’s boot. “I meant this.”

He stood and added the knife to the growing collection of weapons.

“You know me too well.”

“I’ve studied you for the last six months.”

“And I don’t know a thing about you. Or where you like to hide your weapon of last resort. Which I assume you are still wearing.” Nix stepped closer. “May I?”

Lance lifted his arms. Palms open, the tattoo on his palm a dark reminder.

Nix ran his hands over Orlan’s shoulders and down his chest. No wires or weapons there.

His palms skimmed over his stomach and the ridges of muscle just beneath Orlan’s shirt.

His touch lingered a little as he worked his way lower over his belt—he’d come back to that—then he knelt as he ran his hands down Orlan’s leg.

He glanced up to find he was being watched.

Nothing on his ankles, but he traced his fingers up the inside of Orlan’s legs just to be sure.

A faint smile formed on his lips, and Orlan looked away.

It was hard to avoid what was right in front of his face.

Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who’d been starved of contact.

He stood smoothly and ran his hands around Orlan’s waist; there at the small of his back was what he was looking for. Orlan’s heart hammered like a club track, but there’d be no grinding tonight. He lifted Orlan’s shirt and drew the blade free.

“Found it.” He didn’t step back. He could slice through both kidneys and slit his throat before Orlan had a chance to call for help. But they were close enough Nix knew neither of them was thinking about murder at that moment.

He was reasonably sure this wasn’t an elaborate ploy to get him to drop his guard but couldn’t be sure. Orlan was a rather pretty honey pot.

Nix forced himself to step back and put the blade with the others. “Got a first name?”

“Lance.” His voice was rough with lust.

“Well then, Lance, I accept your hospitality for the evening.” Formalities done and without a single drop of blood spilled. When was the last time an Orlan and a Hadley had been in the same room and no one had died?

“I’ll open the wine.” Lance strolled to the kitchen, turning his back and leaving Nix next to the weapons.

Reload the gun. Throw a knife. Pick up the wire.

A dozen ways to kill Lance before he got the wine open. But he wouldn’t break the rules of hospitality. He had more honor than an Orlan.

He frowned, not sure about Lance.

Nix followed him to the kitchen and watched as he opened the wine and got out glasses like this was a date. Maybe if their lives had been different, it could’ve been. He held that thought as though it were made of smoke and would be gone with the first breath of breeze.

Lance poured two glasses and handed one to Nix. “A toast?”

Nix took the offered glass. “To what? Another generation of blood spilled? A successful routing of the Hadley line?”

Lance considered him. “I’m not here to spill your blood.”

“Just to contain me until others can. Have you called me in?” He knew how these things worked. Had hunted someone before when they had betrayed the family.

“No. I need to bring you in. But tonight, I just want to talk.”

Nix considered him for a moment. There was still a chance he could wriggle free, but he needed time. “I want a truce.”

“For how long?”

Forever. Nix sipped his wine. He couldn’t say that.

Lance frowned. “You could run and disappear.”

“And you’d get the fun of following.” They could play this game for a while longer. But the idea of packing up and finding somewhere else to go made him tired. He’d rather surrender. He forced a smile. “I won’t run for the duration.”

Lance lifted an eyebrow. “Fine. Two weeks. Then I have to report that I’ve found you. Any longer and my family will be suspicious.”

Two weeks to make a plan. All he wanted was to be left alone to create the kind of life he’d never been allowed. “Very well. Shall I since you can’t?”

Lance’s frown became a scowl.

Nix had hit a sore point even though he hadn’t meant to.

His fangs descended from the roof of his mouth in much the same way a venomous snake’s flicked forward to strike.

He bit his thumb and let a couple of drops fall into each glass.

Lance held his hand out, and Nix held it as he gently bit Lance’s thumb.

His skin tasted nice; his blood still had that human sweetness that would be lacking when he was turned.

He gave the bite a small suck before Lance tugged his hand back and added his blood to the wine.

They both lifted their glasses.

“To a truce for two weeks,” Lance said. “No blood to be shed in that time.”

“No blood to be shed,” Nix repeated. Lance did like his formalities. Did he think they could protect him? Nix wasn’t so na?ve.

They both glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time the agreement would end in two weeks. Then they both drank.

“You invited me here, offered me hospitality and a truce.” God, wasn’t that sad it was the most kindness he’d been shown in six months? “You’ve bought my honesty for the night, and I expect it in return. What do you want to talk about?”

Lance smiled. “You.”