Vampire Price Hunted: Vampires & Chocolate, #2

By Keira Blackwood

If I blinked, he could be gone. If I blinked, I could be dead.

Hunting vampires isn't a burden for jet-setter Violet Fields—it's life's greatest adventure. When her prey starts to migrate, Violet is determined to uncover the reason why. After traveling the world and saving countless innocent lives, she thought she'd seen it all…until she meets him.

Ruthless vampire Walter Chapman has fought his share of enemies for over two centuries, and throughout it all, he's survived, with style. His greatest challenge isn't the century-long rivalry that brings trouble to Scarlet Harbor, but a human woman who steals his heart. If he can't bring the vampire conflict to a successful resolution, his and Violet's eternal love story might be over before it begins.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paramour Press
• Release date: Oct 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393163145

Book preview

Chapter One

Walter

There are hunts that lead only to sustenance. And there are hunts that lead to satisfaction. The former is the product of convenience—a wide-eyed girl lost in a dark alley, a witless drunk stumbling toward his car, a prostitute who offers anything for a few quid. The latter, the prey that means something, the chase that requires effort—that’s what I sought.

Blinding headlights flashed as the black SUV turned onto Maple Lane. I didn’t have to see past the light to know it was them. Just as he did every night, the meathead swerved across the empty road and slammed the vehicle into park. Even from two blocks away I could feel the thrum of the bass reverberate through my chest. He always waited for the song to finish.

The tall one climbed out first, sweat glistening on his tan skin under the streetlight. The meathead followed. The harsh beams of light cut out, and the meathead slammed his door. The taller of the two was fit and agile, where the other was brute force. Still, it was the taller one that held the most strength. It was his stamina, the way his roommate crashed after dinner, while he went back out for a run. It was his alertness as much as his profession. Police officer—my mark.

I’d chosen this waiting place the night before, when I’d first spotted the patrol car. Two blocks from my mark’s house, I hid in the shadows. The feathered branches of the willow tree offered perfect cover. No cars were in the driveway—no one to see me. The house was dark. The yard was dark. And it was right along the officer’s running path.

It had become increasingly difficult in recent weeks to get a moment’s peace. Between my attempts to train the new queen in combat, and those to explain the subtitles of vampiric etiquette, little moonlight was left for anything else. Had the queen attended to my words, my job would have been easier. As it was, this was my escape.

The two went inside the house. An hour later, one came out. The officer shut the door softly after stepping out onto the top concrete step, careful not to disturb his snoring roommate. He reached high above his head, stretching from his arms down to his toes. He lifted his left leg up onto the brick, high above his head. He did the same with his right. Then he ran.

I listened to the beating of his heart as he sped past. Elevated just slightly from exertion, the rhythm was steady and strong. He passed without noticing me, just as he always did. Just like everyone did. Following the officer was easy. A shadow in the dark, I was death itself. Reaper. Cat toying with a mouse. But tonight would come the finale. Tonight, I was no longer just a shadow. Tonight, I claimed my prize.

He traversed hills, residential streets, the city’s busiest motorway, and an outdoor shopping mall before reaching the park. I remained close.

His pulse thrummed in time with his feet. It was a primal song as basic to nature as breathing, as feeding. The officer passed under the final lamppost before the paved path was shrouded by trees. Tall branches shielded the moon and stars from view, and with them, the remaining shreds of light. And after the last bystander passed, I struck.

It would have been simple, easy to tear him down before he even saw me. But I’d been looking forward to this hunt too much to allow it to end so quickly. I savored the struggle, the competence that he showed. So I gave him a chance, and grabbed his wrist.

His skin was warm, damp from sweat, and full of life. His shoulder jerked as I held his arm in place. He twisted his body around to face me, a quick recovery for the jolt of a stop. I watched the gears turn in his head as surprise transformed into rightful terror. His brown eyes went wide, as his heartbeat quickened. His mouth opened, and I knew a yell was meant to follow.

You will not scream, I commanded. You will not speak.

His mouth closed. I could have told him not to fight. I could have forced him to obey. But what fun would there be in that?

His fist balled, and he pulled back to strike. I let the punch land, his knuckles against my jaw. The impact stung, an aching contusion that made me feel. I reveled in the sensation, and yanked the wrist I still held. He slammed into me. I could taste his fear, and it was divine.

He threw another punch—this one landed on my shoulder. Again, I felt pain. His fighting spirit was exactly what I’d needed.

I ripped his head down and to the side, exposing his throbbing carotid. It pulsed, calling to me. My fangs descended. It was everything I’d hoped for. All that I’d imagined. I held him still in my arms, scraped razor-like teeth over tender flesh. He fought, and writhed. Blood beaded to the surface, sweet and tempting. I opened my mouth, ready to take what I’d earned, ready to renew my life with his.

Hey, girlfriend. Come on over. Hey, girlfriend. It’s me.

And just like that, it was over.

The high-pitched voice and upbeat melody that played from my pocket sickened me. She had put it in there, Ashley King, the source of my agony. And as she’d put that horrid song in as my ringtone, she’d laughed.

I pushed back my meal, and forced his eyes to meet mine. They were filled with hate, just as they were meant to.

Stay, I commanded.

He did.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. It was the small, glass rectangle that had become my ball and chain. And it was the devil herself who held the key. I didn’t have to look down to know that it was she who called.

Ashley King, Queen of the Chesapeake Region. I answered her summons as I was required to, though my eyes remained on the officer.

What? I asked, holding the phone to my ear.

Wallllter, she sang, in that high-pitched voice that grated my nerves. As your queen, I command you come home.

Can it not wait? I asked, as kindly as I could manage. I’m in the middle—

I need you here, she said. Now.

As you wish. The words were acid on my tongue. After dealing with her every night, I’d looked forward to a meaningful hunt. My victory had been tarnished. My moment ruined. There was no taking it back, no thrill in picking up where I had left off, no recapturing the perfection I had nearly accomplished. And it was all because of Ashley. That witch was worse than Yeke. The last king had been ruthless, sure, but he didn’t fuck with my life the way she did. I had done my part in taking down Yeke, for my sire who he’d left at the bottom of the sea. At the time, the prospect of taking out the Mongol king seemed both just and right. That was before his newly-turned pet, Ashely, stole his power and his throne. Who’d have thought revenge would have turned out so sour? Sure as hell not me.

I slid my phone back into my pocket and looked to the man before me. He just stood there, waiting for my command. And I felt nothing.

Continue your run and forget me.

He did as he was told.

Chapter Two

Violet

The cooler hummed, the freezer dripped, and hotdogs sizzled as they spun. It was an electric, white noise melody. So different from the desolate, cricket-filled night just outside the sliding glass doors. I kept my footsteps quieter than my surroundings, and my hand just over a set of my favorite throwing knives.

Everything looked worn and dated, just as it did most places out here. Browned, chipped tiles lined the floor. The cash register had metal buttons instead of an electronic display. There was even a rotary phone on the wall. Maybe time had stopped in Chesterdale, trapping the small town in the early nineties.

With his fingers clasped over his suspenders, the clerk, an off-duty Santa Claus type behind the counter, kept his sights on the same man I did—a vampire. I’d been told his name was Adrien, an import to New York from France. His sunken brown eyes and ghost-white skin did nothing to hide his nature. He stood by the magazine rack, with his hands in the pockets of his floor-length duster, and kept his head tilted down as if he were examining the covers. I was unconvinced. This guy killed. A lot. He was there looking for his next victim. I’d have bet on it.

I hung back at the far end of the convenience store, hidden behind a wide display of chips. Tall, grumpy, and thirsting for blood, Adrien, or Bitey as I preferred to call him, probably knew I was there. Avid predators, they always seemed to know exactly where we humans were if we got too close. It was a risk I had to take, even if waiting so near made my skin crawl.

The bell over the heavy glass door dinged as someone entered the store. I didn’t dare shift my attention. Let my guard down, even for a second, and I could become a late-night snack. Still, I caught a glimpse of them in my periphery.

Original Cheddar Snoodles or Cheddar Snoodles Xtreme? The first voice was male. A boy, stringy, tall, with stupid hair.

Whatever, giggled the girl. I’m not even hungry.

This is a serious question, he said. Totally different products. And I’m sure after I’m through with you, you’ll have a huge appetite. I could just imagine the lowered brows, the cheesy innuendo all over his hornball face. Pun absolutely intended.

You think so? she quipped. And again the girl giggled as the two crashed into a postcard stand, causing it to wobble on unsteady legs.

The teenagers stomped like elephants, completely unaware of the danger they were in.

I peeked over the top of the metal shelves. Bitey was watching them, not me. Good. Well, good for me. Not so much for them.

If this had been a horror movie, she’d be sure to be slashed first. Blond teenagers in short skirts were always the first to go. Since vampires were horror movie monsters, I figured chances were good that the vampire had his sights on her.

Just ten feet away, this was the closest I’d allowed myself to get to Bitey McAngryFace in the two weeks that I’d followed him. Anticipation gave me the jitters, a feeling I loved to chase. After he had stopped migrating, lingering just outside of Amish country, I’d grown bored with waiting. It was time to pounce.

It had started about a month ago, back in New York. Instead of hanging around, treating people like TV dinners—devour and toss—the vampires had dropped everything and flocked south. Maybe it meant something big was coming, like the way rats fled before a flood. Maybe it meant never-ending sunlight was upon us, and the vampires felt its approach instinctually. Or maybe they were running to something instead of away—like Vamp-con or Blood-stock or something. Whatever was going on, I was going to find out. My answer was here, trapped in the brain of this vamp.

Come on, Jayzen, Slasher Bait whined, I want to goooo.

"You mean come," he replied.

Uh… too much info, seriously.

Bitey watched the exchange with hungry eyes. Brown irises flamed with excitement, the only sign of life on the walking corpse.

The teenagers dumped armfuls of junk food by the register. Then the boy pulled the blonde close, before letting her pay.

The bearded man behind the counter bagged their energy drinks and cheese puffs, but kept his gaze on the same man I did—Bitey, who was no longer a man at all.

The little bell above the door rang as the couple left. I held my breath and forced myself not to blink. This could be