Tangled Limbs: Lily Quinn, #8

By Natalie Severine and Eric Severine

My name is Lily Quinn and my life is a strange one, I'll admit. But it's mine. I hunt monsters for gold and even when my plans to get them in bed go awry, I've still got my sex-fueled supernatural strength, speed and senses to take them down. I always get the job done.

Right now, I have two jobs: take down a particularly bloodthirsty vampire, and make sure that Max's new girlfriend is good enough for him. Two tasks of equal importance, if you ask me. Both of them seemed to be going just great, but then Max found something that reminds us both of a werewolf.

No one's said anything about a werewolf in the city, but there's something out there. Something dangerous. Well, that's what they pay me the big bucks to deal with. Now I need to figure out what I'm up against and how to find it.

I've got some long nights ahead of me.

This and all Lily Quinn stories contain graphic depictions of sexual acts. Lots of them. There's other stuff, too, like fun stories and crazy adventures, but these books are definitely for adults only.

You have been warned. Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Loose Leaf Stories
• Release date: Oct 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781643190235

Book preview

Chapter 1

Ichased the vampire through Gates Park, my bare feet churning up sandy clods of grass as I raced southwest toward Mission Beach. Lights flickered past along the darkened jogging paths, but the fog was so thick tonight that they were little more than hazy yellow dots zipping by through the swirling sha­dows like speeding fireflies.

Any of the other bounty hunters would have lost track of the vampire long ago. He darted between the spindly silhouettes of coastal willows and redwoods, a black blur only barely discernible against the deeper darkness. But I could smell the blood that soaked his clothes, and tracked the vampire’s scent through the misty night.

This wasn’t exactly how I had planned to spend the evening. My plan was a lot more fun: identify the vampire, sweet-talk him, and then – let’s be honest – fuck him until I was strong enough to im­pale the demonic blood-sucker on his own bedpost. Bam! Dead vampire, happy Lily.

But then I hit a tiny snag: the fucker was gay. My stellar pick-up lines and cleavage had accomplished exactly dick… or not, as the case may be.

I suppose I should have guessed there might be a problem from the moment I read the bounty posting. This vampire had a bad habit of ripping his exclusively male victims apart and using their limbs as bloody paintbrushes to scrawl nasty messages across their walls.

Who says all gay guys have good taste? Screw stereotypes.

There were still a few people out in Gates Park, jogging or walking their dogs even in the middle of the foggy night, but I wasn’t worried that they could see much. Both the vampire and I were burning through our demonic powers at a voracious rate as we shot through the darkened park like a pair of greased cheetahs on crack. Thick gray clouds hung heavy in the sky and the im­pending storm had driven most humans indoors. Those few who remained out would see little more than a couple of blurs through the fog.

I clutched my gun and vaulted over one of the streams that wound through Gates Park, landing on the other side hard enough to pound my footprints an inch into the ground. Damp dirt squel­ched between my toes and then I was off again, kicking my way through fallen branches that the landscapers hadn’t cleaned up yet. Wood snapped and cracked under my feet.

It was a race. Who would run out of power first? The vampire’s speed and strength was fueled by the blood he drank, mine by fucking the cute bartender back in the stockroom… which was what had given my quarry his head start.

The vampire sprinted into a copse of willows and I ducked beneath a low-hanging branch to avoid a mouthful of leaves. I spotted a flash of bone-white skin and tattered black clothes – like I said, no taste – before he vanished between the trees. The low black sky rumbled as though hungry and rain began pouring down through the fog. My dress was quickly soaked and my bare feet slid across wet willow leaves. Ditching my high heels was one of the first things I had done when the chase began. If I couldn’t find my shoes later, then I was adding them to this vampire’s tally. Good thing monster hunting pays well.

I burst into the clearing at the center of the willow grove and immediately had to throw myself back as my vampire lunged out of the shadows. Even the driving rain wasn’t enough to wash away all the blood and I smelled him coming. His pale fist whistled audibly through where my head had just been and splattered raindrops out of the air.

Finally done running? I asked. Great. Then let’s dance, you smelly demonic fucker.

The vampire’s next punch blasted a splintered hole into the tree trunk behind me, but I was already sliding under the blow. Not that I was any faster than the vampire, but the difference between him and me was that I knew how to fight. Creatures like this tended to rely on pure brute power. Hitting a vampire was like hitting a brick wall, so why should he bother learning how to duck? Our strength was evenly matched, but Evaine knew that I would spend my life up against assholes like this, so she taught me to fight well. And she wanted it to be a long life, so she also taught me to fight dirty.

I shoved my wet red hair out of the way and slid in close to knee the vampire in the balls. He bared dagger-sharp fangs at me and hissed like the most pissed-off cat you’ve ever seen. I blocked an­other punch that came hard enough to shatter one of the bones in my arm and jammed my gun into his stomach. I pulled the trig­ger again and again, pumping four shots into the vampire’s guts be­fore he managed to bring up his foot and kick me away. I flew back and smashed into one of the trees. Ribs and wood cracked with the impact.

I rolled up to my feet, wheezing a few choice oaths and grabbed one of the broken willow branches. It was still attached to the tree by a strip of tough green wood that bent impressively before finally ripping free. I was really starting to lament the lack of a sturdy bedpost.

The vampire flung himself at me, vaulting unnaturally high up into the dark night and then falling through the rain down on me like a bolt of lightning. I slid away barely fast enough and kicked up wet willow leaves that stuck to my legs. The vampire landed in a silvery spray of rainwater and whirled on me.

I whipped him across the face with my springy willow branch. It wasn’t enough to hurt the vampire, but it kept him on the defensive for just a second while he recovered his balance. Before he could, I kicked out and swept his feet out from under him. With another alley cat hiss, the vampire fell into the mud and I jumped on top of him.

This would have been so much more fun in a bedroom, I said.

The vampire bucked and squirmed savagely beneath me, but I straddled his waist with my thighs and held on like I was riding a rodeo bull.

Fuck you, bitch! the vampire snarled.

"That was the idea."

I slammed the broken branch through his ribs. The pale green willow wood bent and bowed, but my sex-powered super-strength forced the point. No pun intended.

My improvised stake punched through the vampire’s ribs and down into his heart. He howled in fury, but the sound fell away as though into an abyss as his skin went from white to gray, and then crumbled to dust. Falling rain hissed through the pile of ashes and within moments, the vampire’s remains had washed away into the leaves and grass. Too bad. The wizards at the College paid extra for the ashes and it never hurt to earn some more gold.

Oh, well. The vampire was dead and wouldn’t be killing any more men.

I stood up and shook rainwater from my hair. Now to find my damned shoes.

Chapter 2

After a week of research, I dug up a few leads on my dead vampire’s creator, the one who drank blood straight from a demon and became undead in the first place. Her last known location was somewhere out in eastern Germany, so the task of hunting her down was handed off to the Castle bounty hunters. I contemplated calling Remy Saville to see if the sexy French wizard wanted to partner up on the job, but quickly decided against it. With only a few rare exceptions, monster hunters