Night's Kiss

By Mary Hughes

When I was young, I watched helplessly as vampires killed my parents. Now I'm out for revenge, hunting vamps on the streets every night. I have only my wits, my skills, my weapons...and a whole lotta rage.

But being human means I am vulnerable. Still, that won't stop me from destroying every last one of the evil bastards. And now it's time for me to take on the worst one of them all: their king.

Only I'll need help, from the one and only person who can help me locate the king. Achingly tall, a devilish arch to his black eyebrows, and far too-sexy-for-his-own-good, Ryker is gorgeous enough to be the vamp king himself. But being out in the daylight and a white, unfangy grin say "human," right?

We'll have to work together as uneasy allies if I hope to get my final revenge. But we're not the only ones out for the king, and they all want us dead, too.

Which leaves one question...why can't any of us find the vampire king?

Each book in the Ancients series is STANDALONE:
* Night's Caress
* Night's Kiss
* Night’s Bliss

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Nov 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781640638860

Mary Hughes

I write wickedly fun romantic adventures and steamy paranormal romances, stories that crackle with action and love. Challenging, smart alpha men--and women not afraid of a challenge. Oh, do the sparks fly when he meets THE woman guaranteed to infuriate and inflame him most.In real life I'm an author, a spouse and mother, a flutist, a computer geek, and a binge-TV-watcher of The Flash, Elementary, NCIS, and Wynonna Earp.~Mary HughesNewsletter: http://www.maryhughesbooks.com/Newsletter.htmlWebsite http://www.maryhughesbooks.com/Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mary-hughesBlog http://maryhughesbooks.blogspot.com/Group Blog http://www.lustwithalaugh.com/Facebook http://www.facebook.com/MaryHughesAuthorTwitter http://www.twitter.com/MaryHughesBooks

Book preview

To Marianne Chiumento, and to Teri Hicks, Stasi Swain, Jeanne Mead, Gladys Nason, Teri Gomez, Connie Toler, Jody McDavid, Bobbie Thomas, and the rest of the Mary Hughes Readers for their support and love.

To readers, booksellers, librarians, and reviewers for embracing The Ancients as you have. You make it all worthwhile.

As always, to my husband Gregg and my children.

Chapter One

The one that got away.

Everybody has one. For Captain Ahab, it was Moby Dick. For Katy Perry, it was the tattooed boy who sang the blues.

Mine was the vampire king.

Kat? Rey glanced at me, though it didn’t affect her smooth driving. Concern etched her face. You okay?

I’m fine. We’d just entered the small Illinois burg of Meiers Corners, my new temporary home. The town was a puzzle. Its razor-straight streets were lined with tidy businesses and homes in soldier-perfect rows. But these sober yards were decorated with accordion-wielding garden gnomes and beer stein lawn blowups.

"You’re fine. My sister’s tone was drier than an Instagram caption. She’d seen right through me, as usual. We were both adopted. Didn’t make us any less sisters. Then why are you fiddling with your knife?"

On my lap, I’d been unsheathing and sheathing my single weapon for tonight—my dagger, Angel. I stilled my hands with a sigh. I feel naked without my swords.

That could be a band name, she said. ‘Naked Without My Swords.’ Or an exotic Renfair dancer.

I laughed. I’m not the best at catching jokes, but that one I got. No, just a really nervous vampire hunter.

Kat—

I know. No hunting vamps in my good clothes. But it was after dark, and I was on edge. Rogues killed our parents when Rey and I were kids. Ripped out their throats before our eyes. Since that night, I’d wanted one thing.

Revenge on all bloodsuckers.

As we rumbled across a river bridge, she sighed. We just got you presentable. This doesn’t have anything to do with meeting your—damn it.

She stomped on the brakes as a body flew through the air. Landed with a thump on the hood.

A face smacked against the windshield. Its skin was thick and tough-looking, either a vampire’s battle mask or really bad dermabrasion.

The face’s mouth widened in a grin—with fangs.

I snapped my knife up, ready to defend Rey.

A second later, the face was gone.

Where…? My pulse had kicked into high.

Rey pointed down the block, to the right. I’m fast, and a seasoned hunter, but Rey is incredibly gifted, with sight like a hawk.

The vampire had cornered a young, waiflike woman, pressing her against the painted metal of a streetlamp. Even from a distance, the wide-open fear in her eyes stabbed me.

I growled low in my throat. I hate when vamps use their unfair predator powers against anyone, but attacking innocents is the worst.

Your swords are in the back seat. Rey nodded at the van’s bench seat behind us. I left them out of the war chest when we packed the rest.

Right. I tore off my seat belt. Shoving the dagger in a pocket, I grabbed my swords and leaped from the van into the chilly October night air.

The young woman’s fear-filled eyes fastened on me. As the vamp lowered his fangs to her neck, she mouthed, Help me.

Too far away to launch my attack, I shouted, Hey! You. Sir Fangsalot. Over here!

His head lifted in that creepy reptilian way suckers sometimes move, red eyes landing unerringly on me. He was wiry, with a moth-eaten, meth-head look.

No quick dash and slash for me, not now. Having lost the element of surprise, I slid on my weapons harness then stalked toward them, breath frosting the air. His red eyes followed me.

As I came closer, I drew Joyce from the pair of scabbards at my back. Short, heavy, her silver-clad edge sharp enough to split hair, the straight sword was my best weapon against a single fanged menace. For more than one toothy bastard, I had a saber-like talwar named Shredder.

Yes, I named my swords. Rey insisted it was a delightful quirk, not a sign of mental instability.

Although hobbies: hunts vampires probably checks the crazy box.

Behind me, the van’s engine cut. Rey hates suckers as much as I do, but I was the martial expert. She’d give me space to do my thing, backing me up only if necessary.

My sword made the bloodsucker flinch back, his hands coming up as if blocking an attack. The woman took advantage of his distraction to duck out of his range and run away.

He swore, his red gaze snapping between her and me. He didn’t use any of a vampire’s many tricks to stop her. Probably young, for a sucker, the idea reinforced by his simple, leather-like facial armor and his small fangs.

I was close by now. Kid Vamp’s eyes ping-ponged one last time and settled on me.

Young, but even fledgling vamps were fast and deadly. Older suckers… I briefly shuddered, remembering the king. Age granted them terrible powers.

Kid Vamp thought the shudder was for him. Scared? He licked his chops, the move calculated to turn my legs into water. Vamps think adrenaline sweetens the taste of human blood.

Yeah, monsters.

Scared? Not really, I said.

You ought to be. His eyes began to glow hypnotically, and he crooned, Come to me, little human. He was unleashing his sucker mojo but needed both voice and eyes to do it—probably why he didn’t try it with the woman. Older suckers can compel obedience with their voice alone.

Come. His voice rang in my head. Let me reward you with my kiss of death.

Does it involve tongue? I stayed planted, being a rare human immune to compulsion.

Annoyance briefly crossed his face. Then he floated slowly around me. Give me your neck, tasty human.

Vamps can move unnaturally fast, so he was playing with his food. Asshole.

I’m actually pretty bland without ketchup. Have you ever considered going vegan?

A growl escaped his lips. You bitch. I am going to suck you dry. And I’m going to enjoy it. He stopped in front of me and licked one fang, deliberately provocative. What, no snide response?

Here’s my answer, you bastard. I thrust forty-four inches of stabby reply, throwing my weight behind my blade.

No plan survives meeting the enemy. At the last minute, he turned. Normally I’d see a twitch of shoulder or tensing of muscle that would let me adjust my attack, even with vamps. No warning with this guy at all.

Joyce only sliced his chest.

He shouted a nasty word. Claws raked at me, too fast to counter or avoid.

I twisted to take the attack on my tactical vest.

Except I wasn’t wearing my vest, because I was trying to look normal. I only had on a hoodie, T-shirt, and jeans. I didn’t even have my neck protector.

Adrenaline seared my veins, ice cold. Is tonight the night?

I risked death each night I took to the streets. Vampires were faster, stronger, and healed stupidly fast. I only had my wits, my practice, and my weapons.

Oh yeah, and my rage.

Still, one night I’d be too slow or miss a crucial swing (or be without my freaking vest) and it’d be over.

Absolutely worth it, if I made the world a little safer for us humans.

With a battle cry, I raised my left arm, barely in time to meet his slash. Talons tore through my hoodie into my flesh. Blood spat from his claws.

My blood.

Pain ripped through me, my skin and muscles screaming against the invasion.

He grinned at me, nasty. He thought it was all over but the begging.

I gritted my teeth and ignored the pain. Adrenaline would blunt it for now. I had one chance.

Leaving my bleeding forearm raised to hide my movement, I cocked Joyce.

And thrust her into his chest.

Joyce impaled him with a muffled thunk. Straight through his heart. Hard to do, with that thick bone plate in the way, but I’d trained long and hard.

The vamp’s grin froze.

But now time was ticking, and it wasn’t on my side. He’d get over his shock, pull out the sword, heal up, and I’d be dead. Not just monsters, monsters with unfair advantages.

Two ways not to be dead. Chop off his head—no brain, no movement, unless head and body rejoined. Or scoop out his heart—no blood flow, no movement (except a single, instinctive attack, I’d found that one out the hard way). He’d still be alive, but so would I, and he’d be immobilized.

Triggering a move I’d done a thousand times, I yanked the sword from his body, called on the large muscles of my shoulder and back, and swung Joyce executioner-style. I nailed it, slicing fast and hard, hitting with Joyce’s sweet spot.

The monster’s head separated and sailed up, arcing into a neat front lawn. I began to relax.

Until his noggin made a freak rebound on a blowup beer stein. Compressed plastic and air fired it straight back at the vamp.

His body hadn’t quite shut down. As the head arced over, his hand shot up.

He netted it.

I swore virulently. Now he’d plop his head on his neck, heal up, and be as good as new.

To come after me again in a never-ending battle.

I need to make the world safer. Quitting doesn’t do that.

Despite my hammering heart and my slashed arm beginning to ache, I squared my stance to go on fighting.

Movement flashed in my periphery. Someone leaping from behind me.

I was so focused on the vamp, I jerked back barely in time as a long body extended beside me, arm reaching. A hand slapped the head from the monster’s hand. The head thumped onto the nearby grass.

The long body, landing beyond the sucker, was a man in a thin charcoal-gray sweater.

The monster wavered. Knees buckling, the headless vamp collapsed in a heap. Blood splattered, but when fighting vampires, carnage happened, or you weren’t doing it right.

One less monster in the world. A surge of satisfaction hit me. One more repayment for the vamps who’d scarred me and Rey.

The man beyond the sucker straightened slowly. Daggers and damn, he was tall. Scary-broad shoulders and a muscled back. Black as sin hair.

I floated a couple steps closer to him, hoping to see more. Then it hit me—this might be a vampire, too.

Automatically, I took a readiness inventory. Sharp pain in arm. Slashes, blood loss, possibly dangerous. One sword in hand, one sheathed, dagger in pocket. Twelve times twelve is one hundred forty-four—mind is working.

I readied Joyce. If the man was a vampire, I was prepared to fight again, though depending on the blood loss, perhaps not for long. If he had red eyes or a battle mask… He turned.

My breath stopped as brilliant onyx eyes met mine, jewels set in a masterpiece of a face.

He’d apparently taken tall, dark, and handsome as a challenge. Seven feet if he was an inch. Black eyebrows slashed in a devilish quirk. Strong cheekbones, an intelligent forehead, and a straight sword of a nose. A thin, mobile mouth. So handsome, my eyes ached and a pleasurable shiver wracked me.

His attention moved to my arm. Almost immediately he spun a backpack from his shoulder.

Released from that onyx gaze, I sucked in a lungful of air. Though he was as bewitching as a vamp, he had no battle mask, and there wasn’t a red eye or sharp fang in sight.

Most importantly, he wasn’t attached to my bleeding arm by the mouth. So, not a vampire. I sagged briefly in relief. Then I got to work, wiping down Joyce.

He rummaged inside his pack, coming up with a couple bottles and a pad. Cracking one of the bottles, he handed it to me. Drink this.

His voice, dark and rich as liquid chocolate, ran along my flesh like a fingertip.

Getting goose bumps of delight just from his voice finally clued me in. Good grief, was I attracted to him? I had a job to do here. While I like a good release as much as the next person, I couldn’t afford the distraction of tall, dark, and lickable.

Thanks. I snagged the bottle from him—it was water—and drank.

He opened the second bottle and dashed liquid onto the cloth. Roll up your sleeve. This will sting.

Sting, I muttered, sheathing Joyce and shoving up the hoodie’s slashed sleeve. That’s the word EMTs use to mean hurt like a—mother!

I glared at my arm where a long-fingered, bronzed hand was briskly patting antiseptic on my wounds. The damned stuff hurt more than the vamp’s original clawing.

The man ignored my glare to dig out a large flat packet and a roll of gauze. Opening the packet, he extracted a sterile pad which he set on my wounds. His talented fingers were gentle and efficient. My irritation changed to gratitude as the sting subsided.

Thanks. I nodded at the pad, where he’d anchored one end of the gauze. You do good work.

Thanks for taking out that creature. He began to wind the gauze neatly around my arm to hold the pad in place. Nice sword work.

The sincere appreciation in his voice made my insides fizz, and the touch of his strong hands slid a liquid warmth over me, confusing me. I killed vamps out of rage and revenge.

I’d never been thanked before.

Uh—you’re welcome? I winced at how awkward I sounded. While not what Rey would call socially adept, I was usually better than that.

He simply finished wrapping, tied off the gauze, and held out his hand. I’m Enkidu.

Wow. No last name? Just Enkidu? What were his parents thinking?

His only answer was a shake of his black head.

You must have another name. How had he even survived grade school? Maybe a nickname? Ezekiel or Bud or Scooby—

Ryker. I sometimes use Ryker. He sighed as if he found me frustrating. You are? His fingers flexed expectantly.

I stood there, discomfort tangling inside me. When you killed vampires for a living, you didn’t connect easily with other humans.

People, I could hear my sister say. They’re called people, Kat, not humans. Rey was all about connecting. Especially with… I swallowed, hard. I’d come to Meiers Corners to fight vampires, but also to meet the Stiegs. My birth family.

I wasn’t afraid of anything, but I was afraid of that, for so many reasons. Strangers who were family, who might not like me once they met me. They might not even accept me.

Ryker took my hand in his, his warm palm big enough to engulf my whole hand.

That distracted me from my churning thoughts. Heat flushed up my body and I swallowed a tiny moan. Um. I’m Kat. Kat Kean.

Nice to meet you, Kat Kean. He released my hand; I missed the warmth. I’m a private investigator. From the contents of his pack, I would’ve guessed EMT, but maybe PIs had as much need for first-aid supplies. You?

Well… I never talked about killing suckers because in the beginning I had, and I’d gotten mandatory head-troweling for my trouble. Now I was what my sister called somewhat discreet and I called not such a fumb duck. I had a few vague, noncommittal answers prepared. I’m a hunter.

What do you hunt?

Big game.

In Meiers Corners? One black brow rose, arched with graceful disbelief.

I had no prepared answer for that. But by his sharp black gaze, he wasn’t going to let me off. I mumbled, Vampires? Hopefully he’d think it was a joke, although my sense of humor was what Rey kindly referred to as stunted.

Ah. He smiled.

Oh heavens, that smile. It hit me like a fist of pure male perfection.

And suddenly I was transported to Dallas, five years ago—when the vampire king’s smile had demolished me. When he’d kissed me.

Late at night, hunting alone, I’d been jumped by two dozen bloodsuckers. Fear-electrified blood singing through my veins, I chose to go out in a fury of pure attack. But there were too many. They grabbed me, grinning, about to end me.

And then came a bull roar.

Halba!

That halt was so potent and hair-raising it turned my legs to pegs and the gang of vamps to statues.

A giant flickered in the far shadows, flickered again—and loomed, enormous, over the rogues.

Black karate pants circled lean, muscled hips. An unbuttoned dark shirt revealed a slit of bronzed, stunningly strong torso. Black hair framed blood-red eyes. And his face…

Most vampires’ skin hardened in battle into red-leather plates. This monster’s steely mask brandished fearful spikes, like a Samurai’s mempo face plate. Beautifully, primally terrifying.

A king’s mask. I’d never forget it.

He slashed his way toward me, surprisingly graceful, his open black shirt billowing around him as he whirled in his deadly ballet. An intriguing ripple of muscles flashed in the opening.

Liquid heat stirred in my pelvis, startling the hell out of me.

He cut down the last rogue. His dance came to a standstill—before me. His burning gaze locked onto mine.

My insides erupted in bright hunger…I mean terror.

I’m a vampire hunter. I snarled it at myself as much as at him. I kill bloodsucking monsters. I reared back with Joyce and stabbed.

The king vampire caught the blade. Not trapping the flat between his palms. He grabbed the point—with whole hands. His skin resisted my blade.

Shock electrified me.

What makes a monster? His voice, when he wasn’t bellowing, was as smooth and golden as basswood honey. It flowed, warm, teasing, into my flesh, turning my muscles soft, yielding.

Bloodsucker, I spat. It’s all there in the name. Drinks helpless people dry.

Ah. You hate vampires who abuse humans. So do I. His lips, the only mobile things in his mask besides his eyes, tipped in a slight smile. Dusky rose in his bronzed, hardened skin, those lips were hot-damned edible.

My breath began to saw in rasping pants.

He was barely breathing hard. Each lift of his chest parted his shirt, hinting at his pectorals’ deep valley and the march of truly spectacular abdominals.

Lust slid, long and liquid, through me.

Ignited when his searing-hot masculine fingers brushed my face. Wild heat roared through my trembling body. My heart, already hammering, kicked into overdrive. I lifted toward him, insanely wanting to plaster my mouth to his.

He bent, lips parting. Oh, yes. My racing blood thudded in my ears, a thunderstorm raging in my brain. So much wild energy pulsed through me, my hair seemed to rise from the overload.

His lips met mine.

Not quite a kiss, not really. Skin barely brushed skin. Yet all the adrenaline zinging inside me exploded. My body short-circuited, a hundred forked bolts hitting the grid. And I wanted more.

Then, with a low, almost inaudible growl, his body blew into smoke and streamed away.

Was Ryker…?

Can’t be. His smile was the same as the vampire king’s, but though I’d never seen the king without his mask, I’d surely recognize him. Besides, Ryker didn’t have the requisite fangs or red eyes, even when tipping the vampire’s head.

And he’d bandaged my cut. No, not the king.

What kind of vampires do you hunt? Ryker asked, smile still flirting with those gorgeous lips.

Aware of suckers or just humoring the crazy lady? I tried, The king.

That arched brow winged high. I’m searching for the king, too.

Really? Wow. Not just humoring the crazy lady. Was he a vampire hunter as well as a PI? The possibility made me bounce on my toes. I hadn’t hunted with anyone since my mentor, Max. Hey, here’s a zany idea. Why don’t we hunt together?

A strange expression crossed Ryker’s face, an almost aching longing. Yearning, frosted with pain.

C’mon. It’ll be fun. I reached out to touch him.

Fun? He jerked straight, his gaze going stony. No thanks.

Snatching up his pack, he slung it over one strong shoulder and strode away.

My heart squeezed a confused beat. That no thanks, that rigid stride, clearly said back off.

Yet for an instant, he’d seemed so torn. Perversely, I wanted to run after him to find out what was wrong.

But I don’t deal well with drama, especially my own. The best salve in the world is work, and I had a job to do.

Unsheathing my dagger, I knelt beside the headless rogue. If his heart healed, his body might go walkies, searching for its head. I usually staked ’em to make sure that didn’t happen.

Tonight, I didn’t have a stake, as most of my weapons were packed for transport. Hammering Angel into the sucker’s chest with a sword hilt, I resolved to come back later with a stake.

Since normal people on seeing a dead body would freak, I dragged the rogue’s parts into the shadows of a building. I should have zipped the sucker into one of my special plastic garbage bags with CDC (hazardous waste) pasted on to discourage the terminally curious. A hole in the bag let dawn reduce the sucker to ash. Vampires were physical monsters, not magical or cursed. They reflected fine in mirrors, and I’d never seen one fly, though they got the heebie-jeebies from water. A cross didn’t burn them, but the sun worked just fine.

But the bags were packed, too. Rey had packed everything, insisting I carry no weapons, as my fully stocked vest would create a bad first impression on my newfound relations.

Speaking of Rey, she was parked at the opposite corner of Third and Adams, under a banner stretched across the street reading, Welcome to Oktoberfest! She’d seen everything, including Ryker, probably even spotting his bare ring finger with her eagle-sharp eyes. I reluctantly plodded to my doom.

Sure enough, as I heaved myself inside, she asked brightly, Who was that man?

We started off. I said, A guy.

A guy, Rey repeated, tone dry.

A private investigator, I said grudgingly, trying to forestall the sisterly meddling that was coming. Name of Ryker.

He seemed nice. Another here-it-comes pause. You don’t often meet nice men in your line of work. He didn’t freak at the sucker.

Yeah. He didn’t have… What’s the word? To most humans…er, normal people, vampires were the creation of overactive imaginations and CGI. Even if said normal had survived meeting one. Especially if they’d met one. The word that means people can’t face living in a world where monsters exist, therefore monsters aren’t real?

Cognitive dissonance. My sister smiled. Rey had been through a lot of therapy courtesy of the vampire attack.

I preferred a more direct, sharp-bladed cure.

Maybe… She pulled up in front of a nice tidy flat on West Eighth and Eisenhower, my home-to-be. But she didn’t turn off the engine. Oh, boy. A doozy was coming. Maybe you should get to know him.

Why? I stared at my new base of operations. Cleaning an area of bloodsuckers usually took me a few weeks, and, like a Florida timeshare, it was easier and cheaper to rent a place.

He’d be someone to talk with about vampires. Beside your online hunter friends.

That snapped my attention toward her. What’s wrong with my friends?

Nothing. She shrugged. But online friends can’t give you flesh-and-blood hugs.

That’s your job, Rey. Besides, he’s not interested. He walked away from me. And I have other things on my mind.

Heavy, nameless-dready things.

Oh, no, wait. It had a name. Stieg.

Rey gently patted my hand. Connecting with your birth family is good for you, Kat.

Right. I rolled my shoulders. Rey had been saying that since the Stiegs had contacted me. I didn’t want to disappoint my sister, but the attack that had cut my living family in half had made me a bit gun-shy of all things huggy and kissy. I’m here, aren’t I? Let’s get my stuff inside so you can get home sometime before midnight.

I unloaded my scooter, my weapons chest, and my sea bag. Unpacking took half an hour. Rey and I toasted my new digs with a glass of grape juice.

I shrugged out of my slashed hoodie. Can I catch a ride back?

You have to go out again?

Yeah, I have to finish the job. I changed into my leathers, starting with the long-sleeve, tight-legged cat suit. I’d recommend it for anyone wanting optimal protection and movement. Although, be sure to google for the assassin-style suit. It’s more likely to have pockets—and a