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I rritation twisted her insides as Tiffany Solow handed the ancient vampire his Bordeaux, a fake, funny smile plastered on her face. She wished she could smash the delicate glass on the table and plunge the leftover shards into his undead neck, but her expression didn’t dare show it. Waiting hand and foot on Caius Argyros Dermokaites sent waves of anger and disgust through her. As if rubbing shoulders with the creatures she hated most wasn’t enough, Caius was the worthless bloodsucking piece of shit who’d murdered her brother, not to mention the definition of arrogance. She would kill him. It was only a matter of time, and when she did, she would enjoy every second of it.

“Thank you, precious,” Caius purred.

Precious? I hope you choke on it, you undead bastard.

Tiffany forced her smile to remain in place as she slid into the booth beside him. Caius snaked his arm around her, pulling her close, the too-strong smell of his cologne mixing with the aged Bordeaux and a faint hint of blood. The stench hit her nose full force, and she fought to keep from coughing. Thank God she was an amazing actress. If she didn’t have such a rock-solid poker face, infiltrating Caius’s inner circle would have been damn near impossible.

But every time he made her skin crawl was well worth it if it gave her the chance of murdering the son of a bitch. There was no such thing as a decent bloodsucker. They’d proved that the day she’d first chosen to become a hunter—the day her family had been stolen from her.

Across the table, one of Caius’ associates grinned, the flash of his fangs catching Tiffany’s eye as he leaned dangerously close to his human date, Natasha. Eyes filled with desire, he trailed an affectionate hand over her throat, brushing away a strand of her blonde hair.

“I’ve heard a Russian’s blood can get you drunk,” he said to the table at large, grinning from ear to ear.

Natasha smiled seductively. Playing the role of the mysterious femme fatale was exactly what had gotten her here, at Lucas’s side.

“Oh, please,” Caius scoffed, casting the other vampire a smug, teasing grin. “If that were true, I’d have moved abroad and changed my name to Vladimir last century.”

A roar of laughter sounded from the others at the table, their enjoyment of Caius’ joke belying exactly why Tiffany was here.

Caius was respected among his kind, ancient, meaning he’d be tough to kill, but she was up to the challenge. But if she even started to make a quick move at him, he’d crush her before she blinked. She had to catch him with his back turned. His trust was key to his death, which was why she’d baited him perfectly into wanting her as a Host.

Sure, feeding vamps wasn’t her usual style—she was no Natasha—but as far as she was concerned, Hosts served a purpose, at least for a short time, keeping the vampires fed and sating their thirst. But once the anemia set in, the bloodsuckers had no more use for their weakened prey, and since humans with knowledge of vampires were too high a risk to keep around, Hosts almost always ended up dead or undead. Feeding regularly didn’t stop most vamps from draining innocent civilians for sport.

It only delayed the inevitable.

She’d tried to warn multiple women and men during the time she’d spent with Caius, Natasha included, but it was no use. They were too entranced, too nearly hypnotized by the vampires’ charm to listen to reason. She watched as Caius conversed with the others at the table, flashing a glittering smile that was all fang and glamour. Tiffany had to admit, that charm was hard to ignore, at first.

But every time she thought of the deaths of her parents, her brother, not to mention the loss of a deep friendship, her disgust snapped into place, and she remembered exactly why she was here. She thanked her lucky stars that Caius was still trying his persuasive skills on her, practically begging her to be his. It bought her the time she needed. She’d worked hard to make sure she was too tempting for him to kill in one quick meal. Caius wanted her for the long term.

But he was never going to have her.

Caius leaned in close, suddenly whispering into her ear. “Darling, do you see that private room over there?” He gestured toward the far side of the bar.

Tiffany nodded. “Yes.”

Caius sipped his Bordeaux, his eyes fixated on the closed curtain. “I believe we have a visitor—vampire,” he specified, his blue eyes turning icy. “He moves like a predator.” He set down his wine glass with a little more force than necessary. “I won’t have any of the newly turned traipsing around my club unannounced. Go fetch Ivan and take care of it.”

“My pleasure.” She smiled and stood to find the bodyguard.

As soon as she turned her back on Caius, her grin faded into a frown.

Eat my stake, you nasty leech.

She was really feeling the bitchiness tonight. But then again, spending more than five minutes with Caius would turn any sane person into a complete basket case.

He would pay for everything he’d done.

As quickly as possible, she navigated through the crowd toward the back entrance, stepping into the small storage area that led back to the offices. She glanced up and down the hall. No Ivan.

An immediate chill ran down her spine, the hairs on the back if her neck standing on end. Something wasn’t right. She needed to get out of here, and fast. And she’d learned to trust her instincts. Always. Pushing through the final exit, a rush of cold winter air hit her hard in the face. She stepped out into the alleyway, only to trip over something large and fall straight on her ass.

What the hell?

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of what she’d tripped over: Ivan’s dead body.

His neck was twisted at a strange angle as he lay lifeless on the pavement. Not a single drop of blood or any evidence of a fight.

Damn. It took a lot of cojones to snap the neck of a vampire.

Whoever had done this was vicious.

She hopped to her feet and brushed herself off. No skin off her back if Ivan was dead. One less bloodsucker made for a better world. Though Caius would go ballistic at the news, and she didn’t want to deal with one hell of a pissed off vampire tonight, unless...

Her eyes widened again.

Shit. Double shit.

If she was discovered here with Ivan’s body, all the work she’d done with Caius would be blown. Even the slightest hint or suspicion of her being a vampire hunter would be enough to get her killed. Panic coursed through her, her eyes darting about the alleyway as she desperately searched for a plan.

Think, Tiffany. Think.

She needed to make certain that whenever Ivan was discovered, she was nowhere nearby. Buy herself time.

A dangerous solution slipped into her head, the thought suddenly arriving unbidden.

It would be risky, but…

What other choice did she have?

She rushed through the back door and reentered the club. If she could move fast enough, she could take care of the anonymous vampire herself, then lie and tell Caius that Ivan had handled it. It’d buy her the time, and the distance, she needed before someone else discovered Ivan’s body, plus she would be that much closer to gaining Caius’ trust. One step closer to destroying the scumbag who’d murdered her family.

If she played this right, Ivan’s true death could be a true boon for her.

Finding his guard’s body would make Caius paranoid. Nervous. Distracted.

Sloppy.

Exactly how she wanted him.

Pushing her way through the club patrons, she headed toward the private room, weaving in and out of the crowd to avoid Caius’s gaze. Once she reached the curtained entrance, she pulled her Smith & Wesson from her jacket. Always loaded with silver bullets, her rounds sure wouldn’t kill a vampire, but they would inflict a serious wound, enough to make the leech pause, and the silencer fitted to her gun’s barrel would make this easy.

She quickly slipped inside. With her eyes already adjusted to the darkness, she searched through the shadows, gun aimed.

No one.

A sense of unease prickled through her.

She stepped farther into the empty room.

What the…?

She felt, rather than heard, her opponent first, the end of a gun’s barrel pushing against her skull. Adrenaline pumped through her, her heart thumping hard against her chest, even as her mind raced. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

So, not a vampire then.

The gun told her that much.

But not a regular human either.

She swore once more.

Positioned at the end of a monster’s gun. Royally screwed didn’t even begin to cover it.