Page 6 of Bloodhunter

“Lydia wants tea and cookies,” I snapped. “Go feed her.”

I jogged down the hall to the small bathroom, shut the door,and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. I didn’t turn on the light. I satwith my arms wrapped around my knees, shivering.

Amias had that effect on me. Every time I saw him, I lost control.Still, each interaction left me a little less affected. But I didn’t want toget used to the homicidal bastard.

“Listen to me.”

And then echoes of human screams flashed through my mind.

I put my hands over my ears, which did absolutely no good.

Until I killed Amias, I would never be free, and I wouldnever be forgiven. Maybe that wasn’t logical, but it didn’t matter. That washow I felt.

I had no choice. I had to kill him.

There was, of course, one problem.

Icouldn’tkill him.

Stabbing him in the shoulder was the closest I’d gotten tothat cold, black heart. I shivered as the remembered pain from that attempt streakedthrough my body.

I wasn’t sure why it caused me such pain to hurt Amias. He’dattacked me, had nearly killed me, and for some reason that made him offlimits. When I hurt him—or even attempted to hurt him, I was brutalized by someunseen, mystical force that had decided it was a bad idea for me to hurt thatparticular vampire.

The fact that I’d been able to stick him meant something waswrong. If he’d been alert, I wouldn’t have gotten in the lucky shot.

And that worried me. Things had been good lately. Quiet. Ithought maybe I was going to be okay after all.

I didn’t want the vampire showing up out of the blue, tryingto talk to me. I saw him lingering in the distance sometimes, or lurking in theshadows of the building in which I lived, or standing in the parking lot atwork. I’d race toward him, my stakes out, but when I reached the spot wherehe’d stood, he was gone. Always.

I knew there were times when Ididn’tsee him.

He watched me, followed me, stalked me, but he was quiet.

Until tonight.

Finally, I heaved myself off the floor and staggered acrossto the sink, then turned back to flip on the light switch.

I splashed water on my face, flinching when my wetfingertips touched the scars on my right cheek. I ran my wet hands over myhead, dampening my dark, short hair, then washed and dried my hands.

When I walked into the kitchen, I’d successfully buried thememories once more, and it was time to go to work.

Chapter Two

The heat of the kitchen wrapped around me, warming me evenas scents of sausage, onions, and tomato sauce made my stomach growl.

Angus’s sixteen-year-old daughter Derry smiled at me. “Youwant a slice?”

“Yes.” I rubbed my stomach. “Two slices. Onions and bellpeppers, please.”

Angus shook his head and sighed.

“What?” I asked. “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll be in my office,” he growled, and stomped away. He wasback in ten seconds. “Harlan and Jerome can do deliveries. You stay in tonight.Take the register.”

He knew I hated the register. I shook my head. “I’ll washdishes. And make pizzas.”

He threw his hands in the air and stomped away once again.