Page 5 of Immortal Hunter
“Fine. Whatever. As long as you do not tarnish it with ice…”
He pressed his palm to his heart. “Now don’t be accusin’ me of doin’ anything to harm the drink, lass. I’m Scottish. We know our whiskey.”
As he headed for the shelf of liquor, an unfamiliar thump sounded in her chest. Then another. What the hell…? Balling her hand into a fist, she rubbed her sternum. Her stomach still hadn’t settled after setting the shifter ablaze. It had to be simple indigestion. After all, the bottle of blood she’d downed the previous night was her least favorite. Type B. She blew out a breath when she felt no other strange movement. She needed a drink and some fresh blood.
“Ya’ have a preference?” he called from in front of the shelf.
“Bartender’s choice.”
As he pulled a bottle down, Kára watched him move. Faster, smoother, more confident than a human. Fuck. Could he be a Hunter? She’d have to glamour him. And if she were going to do that…she might as well have a little snack first. Then she’d make him forget her and drive him out of town.
He paid her no mind after dropping off the drink, because at that very second, a bar fight broke out at the other end of the room. The man waded through the crowd, pushing the bystanders out of the way until he reached the two fishermen going at one another.
“Enough!” His muscles strained against his black shirt as he separated the two men and held them apart. “Ya’ need to go. Right bloody now.”
“I’ve been out on a crab boat for three weeks, asshole. If I want to blow off a little steam—” one of the men spat as he tried to break free.
“Then ye’ll do it somewhere other than here.” Propelling both men towards the door, the bartender didn’t wait for anyone to get out of his way, but they parted for him almost automatically. His presence demanded it. In the space of two minutes, he’d gone from unassuming cute bartender to a lethal Hunter.
And Kára started salivating.
* * *
As the clockedover to 3:00 a.m., Kára was the only one left.
“Can I get ya’ anythin’ else, lass?” The bartender looked vaguely uncomfortable as he approached, and she passed him a fifty-dollar note and let her hand linger on the money long enough for him to brush his fingers over hers.
“I…uh…” He stumbled back. “Ya’ want somethin’ different?”
“I want to know your name.” Kára leaned forward, preparing to glamour him, and the motion exposed the swell of her breasts above the black tank top. “I’m Kára.”
“Ewan. But I’m not lookin’ for a hook up, lass.” He poured the double, adding a little extra, for which Kára nodded her thanks. “I’m new to town, and I want to work an honest night and not find any trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Kára held the glass to her lips and offered him a smile, one he didn’t catch the hint of, becauseshit. He wasn’t looking at her. “You don’t seem the type.”
“Not anymore.” Swiping the bar towel over the weathered and sticky wood, Ewan started to turn away, but Kára grabbed his wrist and held on with the strength of centuries of life. “Please,” Ewan said, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I left that world behind. Ya’ have nothin’ to fear from me.”
“Why should I trust you, Hunter?” she hissed.
“Because I’m no Hunter. Not anymore. They wish me dead. If ya’ don’t want to be responsible for my end, ye’ll keep my secret.” Ewan didn’t move and barely breathed as Kára searched his face. His pale green eyes met hers, and she could see the fear in them.
Exerting all of her will on the young hunter, she lowered her voice and let her glamour wash over him, “Are you telling me the truth, Ewan?”
“Y-yeah. I willna lie to ya’.” His voice was slightly flat now, but there was still a spark of resistance in his eyes. Her glamour was failing her. Unacceptable. Kára focused harder, but then the strange sensation returned to her chest, making it difficult to concentrate.
“Hunters aren’t allowed here, Ewan.” Kára’s voice softened, and her chest tightened. She didn’tneedto draw breath, but she did anyway. It felt…right. Rather than try to use her gifts again, she grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him half over the bar, crushing her lips to his.
He tasted of mint and life, of the few good memories she had of her time before. Before Hagen. Before two centuries of torture. Before…she’d done the impossible and broken herself and her sisters from their sire’s iron grip.
When she released Ewan, he was practically panting, and she licked her lips, both because she wanted another taste, and to make sure her fangs were still completely hidden. Trying her glamour again, she smiled coyly and slipped off her stool. “Tell me, Ewan…do you know anywhere we could be…alone?”
Chapter Three
Ewan
What was he doing?Taking a vampire up to his bed? She wasn’t glamouring him. Or…maybe she was. His thoughts felt oddly muddled, but at the same time, perfectly clear. He ached for her, and he’d only just met her.
But her kiss had done something to him. Something wonderful and intense and terrible all at the same time. Ewan tried to remember everything Arthur had taught him and Tommy about fighting a vampire’s glamour, but only a small bit of the elder Hunter’s lesson came back to him.
