Blood and Kisses - By Karin Shah Page 0,4

wave of remembered heat melted over him at the memory. His fangs ached.

He’d been surprised by her attack, but knowing he’d startled her, he’d allowed the kick to take him to the ground. The demon had enjoyed having a lapful of warm woman.

He’d seen her around town, but had never been so close to her. She was tiny, slight, but there was a fluid strength in the way she moved. Raven black hair streamed from a ponytail to the middle of her back. Unbound it probably fell almost to her waist. She was a study of contrasts, black hair, creamy skin, blue eyes, pink lips.

He’d taken one look at those lips and wondered how she might taste. Like an imported fruit, perhaps. It had been a long time since he’d eaten food, but he still remembered the juicy sweetness of a ripe mango melting in his mouth. His mouth watered at the thought and he felt his fangs elongate. Shaking his head, he bit back a curse.

Why couldn’t he stop thinking of her?

The vision?

So what? Why should he care if she lived or died? She was nothing to him. Less than nothing. And he was nobody’s savior. He’d done far worse in the past than ignore the Code.

The sounds of a struggle, a grunt of exertion, low swearing, a woman’s distressed cry, filtered past his preoccupation, drawing his attention to the reason he prowled the night.

Dinnertime.

He identified the direction of the sound, an alley several streets over.

A mugging.

He leaped to the top of a nearby building, perhaps three stories high, and used the gravel-covered rooftops as a path to his prey. He looked down on the scene from above. The mugger, fashionably bald, was big, bulky, and muscle-bound. Damn. Probably used steroids. They might not have an effect on Gideon, but they’d make the man’s blood taste like shit.

The woman, with her long blond hair and skin-tight jeans, looked like a college student after an evening of clubbing.

The mugger rummaged through the woman’s tiny purse while he kept her pinned against a wall with the threat of a small dagger. The knife blade flashed in the waning moonlight.

Gideon landed lightly on the ground. “Mind if I,”—he looked at the knife, then back at the man—“cut in?” Okay, so it was a pun and a clichéd one at that. He had to have some fun.

“What the—” The mugger dropped the purse. He spun to face Gideon. The man’s pupils were more dilated than the dark surroundings should provoke. High, then.

The man jabbed his knife at Gideon. “Get up against that wall with the lady.”

“I don’t think so.” Gideon folded his arms.

His face set, the mugger charged. Gideon blocked the bulging, hair-carpeted arm holding the blade with one powerful forearm. The man cried out in pain at the force of the impact and dropped the knife. The weapon clattered to the asphalt.

Gideon grabbed the man’s beefy upper arms and leaned in, holding his gaze. “You can go,” he said to the woman. She froze for a moment, then sidestepped Gideon, scooped up her small purse and ran off. The rapid tattoo of her footsteps echoed in her assailant’s heart. The man shook and his pasty complexion whitened with fear.

Gideon smiled. Good. The man should be scared. Terrorizing a lone woman. Gideon stared into the man’s rounded eyes. “You will find a legal way to supplement your income.” His voice was loaded with compulsion and the man nodded dully, his will entirely given over to Gideon’s dominion.

Gideon bent the man’s head back on his thick neck and sank sharp teeth into the throat of his quarry.

A sound caught Gideon’s attention as he released his victim. The man slid down the wall and sat jack-knifed, his head on his knees. He would awaken stiff and weak, but otherwise unharmed.

“Fletch,” Gideon said into the night. A dark-haired man sauntered from the shadows. Dressed all in black, his skin was pale, his eyes almost golden.

“You’re good, Damek.” The man smirked. “Maybe too good.”

Gideon caught the innuendo, but ignored it. The other vampire had no idea how wrong he was. Following the right path and being intrinsically good, were two different things. “It would take an older vampire than you to sneak up on me.” He shifted, ready for anything. You never knew what to expect from Fletcher.

“I saw you with the Poisonblood.”

“Yes?” Gideon braced at the other man’s hostile tone.

“Yeah. They’re trouble, Damek. Everyone of ‘em. From birth to death.”

“Is that so?”

Fletch’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever she