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T iffany stared at the stranger before her, her eyes locked onto his icy gaze. A shiver ran down her spine at the fiery look she found there, but despite all the scare tactics he’d thrown at her, heat still pooled between her legs. What the hell was wrong with her? Sure, she could appreciate the view. That alone made him dangerous. Far too dangerous for her own good.

But there was something else about him that drew her closer. Something oddly…familiar.

And wasn’t that thought all kinds of insane?

“Go on. Prove you’re human.” Her pulse raced, bracing for pushback.

Something in her gut screamed not to fight him, that he was no threat to her, and even he’d admitted as much, but she wasn’t a fool. The knife at her throat and the ferocity in his eyes said otherwise. Sexy as hell or not, she needed to get herself out of here.

“Just trust me on this,” he said.

“Trust you?” She scoffed, leaning forward a little as if she might finally kiss him. “Not a chance.”

With as much force as she could muster, she stomped on his instep, once again catching him off guard.

He didn’t cry out, but the move surprised him enough that the knife shifted slightly away from her throat. It was all the room she needed. She seized the advantage and grabbed hold of his arm, pushing his sleeve up and digging her fingernails into his skin.

She wasn’t against fighting dirty. Not if it saved her sorry ass.

He wrenched back, giving the space she needed to escape. To his credit, he didn’t even curse at the pain, only grunted in response as her acrylics dug into the flesh of his arm. Blood pooled around the edges of her nails, but she released him him quickly, lunging forward, knocking into his midsection like a linebacker.

Only for her head to hit a wall of solid muscle.

Ouch!

Damn, that had been a stupid idea. The man was built, and running into his abdomen was like hitting her head on a concrete wall. That would really hurt in the morning.

“Really?” he said, shaking his head at her, before he tucked his knife up his sleeve.

She paused. What the hell was that about?

“You’re better than that,” he said, gesturing to where her nails had dug into his arm. Through the darkness, she could see that a small trickle of blood had pooled there.

His eyes darkened. “Now, show me what you’ve got, Shortcake.”

Shortcake?!

She bristled. Without warning, he made another grab at her, and she stumbled back, nearly going down hard. Thankfully, she was short enough that she managed to duck out of his reach. Just before delivering a punishing blow to his shin.

He swore.

A grin curved her lips. “Call me Shortcake again and see what happens.”

He grinned, smirking up at her from where he’d doubled over in pain. “Shortcake.”

She swore, unleashing her fury in a series of manic blows. He towered over her and was probably twice her weight with all the muscle he was packing.

But she didn’t care.

No one called her Shortcake and lived to tell about it.

Regaining her footing, she threw a spinning roundhouse kick. But he blocked it with ease as if he often fought third-degree black belts without blinking an eye. Who the hell was this guy?

He was fierce, no denying it.

And goddamn it, it was…infuriating really.

“Narrow your stance. Find your center,” he ordered.

“Piss off.” Who did he think he was giving her instructions ?

He tsked at her. “Don’t make me teach you the hard way, Tiffany.”

She let out a furious roar, her rage making her throw nonstop kicks and punches, but he blocked every move like she was no more than an irritating fly rather than a capable, lethal woman. Goddamn it, he wasn’t even breaking a sweat, and somehow, he’d managed to nearly back her into another corner. She was running out of options. Fast.

Wait.

Her gun.

Her gun was lying on the floor.

She rushed toward the weapon.

Seconds later, he loomed over her.

“You’re a vicious little creature, aren’t you?” He smirked.

Tiffany scowled, snatching the gun from the floor, but she barely had time to recover before he was on her. She threw a sidekick, but he caught it, then swept her other foot out from under her. She toppled to the floor, landing with an audible oof as the wind rushed from her lungs.

Before he could make his next move, she spun around and kicked his ankles once more. Pain shot through the edge of her big toe, despite her high-heeled boots.

Goddamnit, even his legs were pure muscle.

Without thinking, she lunged into his legs, wrapping her body around his knees. He started to fall, but he caught himself and landed prepared to kick out, except that... oh, snap ...she was attached to his leg!

“Hold tight,” he warned, grinning at her.

She scrambled backward, but he was too fast. Within seconds he was on top of her, straddling her hips and holding her hands against the ground.

She swore.

“A word of advice, Shortcake.” He struggled against her, working to keep her still as he grinned at her once more. “Learn from your betters.” He pegged her with a hardened stare as he let out a low purring growl, bringing them nearly nose to nose. “Or next time I won’t hold back.”

From the fiery look in his blue eyes, she knew that he meant it. This was a man who kept his promises, whose honor hinged on his word and nothing more. She nodded, vowing to herself then and there that there would be no next time. The man was pure unadulterated muscle and no matter how good a fighter she was, she knew when to call it quits.

No matter how his smug grin filled her with fury.

She stared up at him, uncertain what to do now that he had her pinned beneath him on the floor. She really wished she hadn’t charged him, because damn it, now her head hurt, and that meant her brain was sending all sorts of wild mixed signals into parts of her body that had never been lit up before. Clearly, she was in a vulnerable position, and yet…he wasn’t threatening her, just pinning her down, which meant she was not going to consider how she’d never been pinned beneath a man like him before.

Someone dark and dangerous.

Someone who lived up to her fantasies.

Her gaze traveled to where their bodies met. His chest heaved in and out from the adrenaline and through his shirt she could see a nicely defined pair of pecs, and from the pain in her head, she knew that washboard abs hid beneath. Even his forearms, which she’d dug her fingernails into, were well defined, honed, and from the fluid way he moved that he wasn’t some steroidal bodybuilder. That much was clear. No, his muscles were from serious training.

The thought of his nearly naked body covered in a sheen of sweat as he worked out suddenly stilled her.

Whooaaaa, Nelly. Down girl.

She’d never fantasized about a stranger like this. Ever.

A small pang hit her heart, equal parts pain and anger.

Well…maybe once before. But B was no stranger. Not really.

Her thoughts traveled to the nameless hunter, the one who’d stolen her heart with his letters, only to break it to pieces with his betrayal. She had to admit her younger self-had held on foolish dreams, and she’d fantasized for so long about meeting B in the flesh that real men need not apply. She’d been solo since she was fifteen, when her brother had left home to hunt monsters, and now without B in the picture, well…she intended to keep it that way.

No matter how lonely it made her.

“Where’d you go, Shortcake?”

The soft words whispered through her, bringing her back to herself.

She’d thought the nickname was meant to taunt her, yet there was…

Something more beneath his tone. Something that made her chest ache.

The softness in his words didn’t fit the image of the growly playful man he’d been since the moment she’d walked through the door, and suddenly she found herself wondering what else he hid beneath that icy stare.

She shook her head, quickly remembering herself. “None of your business.”

She tried, and failed, to wiggle out of his grip once more.

She needed to get herself out of here. She didn’t need any distractions. Her goal was to avenge her family, not snuggle up all lovey-dovey with some mysterious guy, get married and have loads of chubby faced cherubic babies. Not that Mr. Tall Dark and Scary would ever fit that scenario anyway. From the looks of things, he was a grade-A badass.

Not the guy you bring home type.

No, he was the kind of guy who fucks you in a dark alley and makes you moan type. The type you wanted to bring home, but who would no doubt break your heart.

Just like B did.

She swallowed, hard.

Focus, Tiffany.

She needed to get back to Caius. Pronto. Their little interaction had only lasted a handful of minutes, but still it felt as if she’d been in his arms for a lifetime.

“Let me go,” she grumbled, attempting to shove against him again.

If she disappeared for long enough, someone would come searching for her. Wasting time ogling a hot man wasn’t in the cards for tonight—for any night—no matter how the feel of him pressed overtop her made her want to wrap her legs around him. She didn’t have time for this. Not while Caius lived and breathed. Besides, she didn’t know anything about this man.

And he’d held a knife to her throat for God’s sake!

Guess you like them toxic, huh? she chastised herself, bucking against him in a way that caused him to groan.

Her eyes shot to his, the pleasured look in his gaze instantly making her warm.

His ice-blue eyes locked onto her, so focused she thought she could drown in their intensity. Shit, she wanted to run her hands over his black, buzz-cut hair, down the sides of his neck and over those broad, muscled shoulders.

The thought alone sent a jolt of electricity shooting down her spine.

His voice dropped low. “Do that again and I’ll make us both moan.”

He said the words as if they were a threat, but he couldn’t possibly know she was just as affected as he was.

Could he?

A brief silence passed between them, those haunting blue eyes still boring into her.

“I guess I’m not really in a position to bargain, am I?” she whispered.

He glared at her. Clearly, he wasn’t a vampire, or he would have sunk his fangs into her throat by now. But he was just as mesmerizing as one. Just as intense.

Just as dangerous.

She cleared her throat. “One of us has to go first, and from your stiff upper lip, I can tell it’s not going to be you.” She sighed. “If I start talking, will you at least let me go?”

His head quirked a little. “Do you want me to?”

She bit her lower lip, stifling her response, before she sighed again. Good Lord, he was dangerous. Far, far too dangerous. “Yes,” she said, reassuring herself as much as she was him. “Yes, I want you to let me go. Consider it a favor. Vampire hunter to vampire hunter.”

His brow furrowed, as if the words ‘vampire hunter’ confused him.

He scoffed. “You’re no hunter.”

Slowly, he pulled away from her, leaving her cold and breathless once more.

She tried not to consider how much a part of her wanted him to come back.

She scowled. “And who the hell gave you the authority to decide my title?”

She may not have been able to best him, but she wasn’t weak. Whoever he was, this guy had the strength of a vampire and the training of an extremely professional hunter, not someone self-taught, which meant…

Could he be from...?

The thought caused her to still.

No. She shook her head. No, what were the chances of that?

His eyes narrowed. “You’re alone? No one trained you?”

She nodded. “No one but my brother, so, yeah, I’m solo. You know, Solow—like my last name.”

Usually that got at least a little bit of a chuckle out of people, but Mr. Tall, Dark and Sexy didn’t so much as crack a grin.

He released her hands, still kneeling over top of her knees. She tried not to think of the way his hips had felt pushed against hers, and the obvious thickness she felt beneath his belt buckle.

He glanced over her, assessing her once more, his icy gaze devoid of any heat she may have previously imagined there. “You’re no hunter.”

She frowned. “And what qualifies you to make that judgment? I could say the same thing of you, after all.”

He shot her a look that said Don’t make me laugh . “Why are you here, Shortcake? Are you a Host?” A look of disgust crossed his face.

She shook her head. “Hell no. I would never let those leeches feed off me.”

The side of his mouth twitched slightly at that. The closest he’d come thus far to a smile, at least since he’d finished toying with her. Apparently, whoever he was, he appreciated a distaste for the undead.

That made two of them.

“Caius wants me as a Host,” she admitted suddenly, surprising even herself, “but he’s not going to have me.” She met his eyes. “Other than that, the reason I’m here is none of your damn business.” She wasn’t even certain why she was sharing as much as she was anyway, but something about that icy gaze made her uncertain.

Made her feel like a trapped animal pacing the length of its cage.

Made her desperate to break free.

He didn’t respond, only scanned the length of her body like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Watching his irises as he drank her in was like watching fire flicker beneath crystals of ice. So breathtaking she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

He wrenched his gaze away from her, giving them both a much-needed reprieve. “You’re right. It isn’t.” He pushed away from her, before he finally stood.

The distance he placed between them shouldn’t have made her so uneasy.

So eager for him to return.

She sucked in a deep breath. “Who are you and why are you hunting on my turf anyway?” she snapped.

Straightening his clothes, he ignored her question, but his spine stiffened as she stood. She could practically see him training his senses on something like a lethal animal.

“What is this room usually used for?” he asked.

“What?”

He lowered his voice, his harsh gaze spearing her. “I said, What. Is. This. Room. Used. For?” he growled, punctuating each word.

She glared at him. What the hell was he getting at?

“People come in here to have sex and drink from their Hosts in private. But why—”

“Shhh.” He shoved his hand over her mouth to silence her, but with her hands now free she quickly wrenched it off.

“No way are you—”

Before she could comprehend what was going on, they were nose to nose. With gentle but strong movements, he cupped his hand behind her head, pulling her into his arms.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Making my choice.”

Her eyes widened, circling back to their banter once more.

You going to kiss me or kill me, asshole?

As if he knew what she was thinking, he smirked, his lips brushing against hers. “Now, play nice, Shortcake, and don’t ever say I’ve never done you any favors before.”

All her thoughts came to a screeching halt as suddenly, his mouth was on hers. The force of his kiss overwhelming her to the point that she wasn’t entirely certain who had kissed whom. All she knew was the feel of his warm tongue tracing the seam of her lips then, the wicked way he gripped her neck, pulling her close as he urged her open, and how she let him in, almost eagerly, his warm body moving against hers in a way that instantly made her moan.

The things this man could do with his tongue.

Good Lord, she wanted more. She gripped his shoulders then, digging her fingernails in as she pulled him closer. He growled against her, bucking his hips forward until they were pressed against the wall once more, the length of him bracing her entrance through their clothes.

Enough to make her molten.

The warm scent of his aftershave filled her nose, musk, and sandalwood. Heady and intense, just like he was, and another wave of heat rushed to her core, as she rocked her hips against him. She didn’t even know his name, but her body was screaming in need.

She’d never wanted anything, anyone, so badly in her life. Every inch of her skin lit up as arousal rushed through her. With harsh, frenzied movements he lifted her, so her torso was cradled in his arms while her hips were still pinned beneath his, her legs wrapped around those glorious hips. The hard length of him pressed against her again, and she felt herself begin to rock in rhythm with each sweep of his tongue inside her more, eager for more.

No man had ever had such a powerful effect on her.

She wanted, no, needed more.

Somewhere in the distance, she was vaguely aware of the sound of an opening curtain.

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” an unknown voice said. “Didn’t know the room was taken.”

The intruder left, and within an instant, his lips were gone.

Just as quickly as they’d came.

She gasped for air. Her world seeming to spin, though he still held her in his arms. The chilled air inside the club hit her lips, and her hearted thumped hard in her chest.

Near desperate for him.

He lingered over her, his face barely inches away. “You taste even sweeter I thought you would, Shortcake.”

Those wicked words should have thrilled her, but instead, there was something almost…pained as she stared into his gaze.

Something she was certain he didn’t want her to see there.

Quickly, he released her, walking to the other side of the room, as her head slowly began to clear. A distraction. He’d kissed her as a distraction she realized.

She’d said people had sex in this room, and someone had come in, so he’d deliberately given them the impression that they were having sex. She exhaled a long breath to collect herself, her mind still reeling. Without his weight overtop her, she felt…strange, uneasy, like a ship in a storm, without an anchor. She shook her head.

Logically, she knew that was ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous.

He was a stranger to her and yet…

For some reason, she wished the moment hadn’t ended.

Catching her breath, she opened her mouth, struggling to get some witty quip to form, something that would save her dignity, but it was no use.

His kiss had ruined her, at least temporarily.

Finally, she managed to whisper, “What’s your name?”

“Damon Brock,” he said, his voice cold and distant, so different from before.

Clearly, he hadn’t been nearly affected the way she had been.

Tiffany leaned against the wall, completely stunned and uncertain what to make of everything that’d passed since she’d unsuspectingly walked in here earlier. Sure, she’d been kissed before. But not like this.

Not in a way that left her forever changed. Desperate for something she hadn’t even known she’d been searching for.

She closed her eyes, steadying her breathing once more. Every kiss before had meant nothing. Every one of them, because in truth, her heart hadn’t been in it. It’d always belonged to someone else before. Until now.

Until now that it didn’t.

Her gaze flicked toward Damon’s, his kiss still burning against her lips.

A kiss that felt like a first, better than every other time before.

And God help her, she didn’t know hide nor hair about this man, but….

She wanted more, and that thought should have terrified her, and yet somehow…

It didn’t.