The Hunted(3)

"Yeah," she repeated, her tone once again icy. "It's all good." Damali set down her beer hard on the bar. "Can't sleep during the day anymore, though. You feel me?"

"I feel you..." he murmured, low and sexy. "Wanna get out of here?"

"Yeah," she said. "And bring your friends. Miss Rivera already." She let the truth dangle as bait, knowing they'd sense authenticity in what she'd said. But the truth cut her to the bone.

He hesitated, stared at her, confused, and then chuckled. "That's five of us, you know."

Damali cocked her head to the side and smiled. "And?"

"Damn, sis... aw'ight. That's cool."

"I was made by a master. What did you expect?"

The vampire before her shook his head. "I'd heard about master-made second-level females, but I confess I didn't know it was like that."

"Follow me. Watch and learn... since this is your first time with a sister like me." She didn't even wait for his response as she strode through the crowd toward the off-limits section at the back of the club, elbowing people out of her way.

She could feel the five eager vamps behind her, knew they were intrigued and off-guard. Half of her questioned her own judgment; the other half of her just wanted to get it on. What was there to live for, really? If she went down, she'd go out swinging. If she lived, so be it. Either way, all these potential victims in the house got another night of reprieve.

As she passed club-goers, she glanced at the silver crosses some of them wore, and other religious objects embedded in their jewelry, disheartened by the fact that none of it would ward off an attack if the wearer of the object didn't believe. Most didn't.

The narrow hallway she'd entered that led to the back alley made her claustrophobic. It was too reminiscent of the corridors of Hell she and Carlos had battled in together. Everything reminded her of him, especially the thick, palpable desire emanating from the vampires that followed her in the dark.

She threw her weight against the heavy, metal door and was greeted by fresh air. The evening was unseasonably cool, and she welcomed the rush of breeze against her face. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back for a moment, preparing for the inevitable. A pair of chilly hands rested on her shoulders. Icy breath filled her ear.

"You have any preference about which one of us goes first?" a deep male voice intoned.

"No. Do you?" she murmured, shrugging out of his hold and bending over so she could reach the pant leg zipper, concealing her stashed dagger.

"Damn," one of the henchmen whispered. "I don't care, man. Just as long as I'm in the lineup."

"Good," she said, chuckling as she glanced up at the four weaker vamps hanging back in the shadows. A hard erection poked at her behind in a sultry grind. Hands were on her h*ps now, caressing them, stroking her backside, and making the beaded triangle sarong that was tied against them shake. "I'm not choosy about which one of you goes first, either."

"Pull down your jeans, baby. We'll work it out."

"Okay. But first lemme show you what I'm working with," she said with a dangerous half smile, peering up at him over her shoulder.

In one deft move, she unzipped her pant leg, snatched her dagger, spun, and plunged it into the chest of the vampire that had been on her ass. His eyes opened almost as wide as his mouth. His fangs exploded from his gums and he made a choking, gasping sound as he tried to speak. His face was still frozen in shock as his skin turned to ash and crumbled away to red glowing bones, which then disintegrated.

"Oh, shit! A f**king black widow!"

Damali wiped her blade on her thigh, ignoring the comment as the four remaining vamps took battle stances. Adrenaline shot through her as she watched their size bulk up, their once deep brown eyes turn fiery red, and their sensual smiles gave way to full-fanged snarls.

"Only two inches of fang, gentlemen? Rivera gave a girl six to eight, when provoked. Is this the best you can do?" She shook her head and studied her fingernails. "Guess there really is a difference between masters and wannabe lower levels. Size does really matter after all."

She sensed them go airborne before she'd even looked up, and quickly dodged the first one's grasp as the others came down in a circle around her. She moved counterclockwise to their movements, their snarls and growls making them sound like rabid pit bulls. Her senses heightened, she waited for them to attack again.

The one behind her was the first to strike - and was the first to get his throat slashed as she spun and kick boxed a second one away from her. As soon as the second fell back, another was on her, only to find her Isis blade deeply imbedded in his chest. Another pile of ash crumbled at her feet, and she sidestepped the burning, putrid heap, assessing the placement of the last two vamps in the alley.

They stared at her then glanced at each other.

"Later, bitch!" one of them said.

"Bring it now, punk," she spat back.

"Later," the other repeated.

Then they were gone.