went in search of prey. Due to the late hour, his choices were few—an old drunk passed out in an alley, or an addict high on the latest drug. Grimacing, he decided to go hungry.
Leaving the seedier part of town behind, he opened his preternatural senses, searching for the blood link that bound him to Callie’s grandmother. He wasn’t surprised when he couldn’t find it. More than a hundred years had passed since he had last seen Ava. It would have been a miracle if the link had survived that long. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that, for her own protection or that of her granddaughter, Ava had faked her death and gone into hiding. Unfortunately, the chances of finding her were slim if she didn’t want to be found. Like vampires, witches and warlocks were remarkably creative in their efforts to hide from the world.
And Knights were equally adept at hiding from vampires.
That thought was brought home when Quill suddenly sensed he was being followed. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see one of the Knights lower his cloak of invisibility. Lips pulled back in a feral grin, the Knight sprang forward, the dagger in his hand raised to strike.
Quill twisted out of the way as the blade descended and the knife, meant for his heart, sank to the hilt in his right shoulder. With a wild cry of pain and fury that echoed off the sides of the buildings, he grabbed the Knight and hurled him across the street just as a car came careening around the corner. There was an angry screech of tires and the scent of burnt rubber as the driver hit the brakes, but it was too late. The Knight let out a startled scream as he was thrown into the air and over the top of the car.
Quill didn’t wait around to find out if his assailant lived or died. Jerking the dagger from his shoulder, he disappeared into the darkness.
* * *
Callie woke to the sound of someone knocking on the front door. A glance at the clock showed it was a little after 3 AM. She didn’t know anyone who would come calling so late, she thought, frowning.
Except Quill.
And he wouldn’t come this late unless something was wrong.
Jumping out of bed, she grabbed her robe, ran to the door, and looked through the peephole. As she’d feared, it was Quill. And he was bleeding again. After opening the door, she stepped aside.
“Sorry,” he said, following her into the living room.
“For what?” she asked, turning on the lights.
“I need a favor.”
She looked at his torn and bloody shirt and the ugly laceration in his shoulder. “You need blood,” she guessed.
He nodded. “Only because I wasn’t able to find any . . .”
Callie pressed her fingertips to his lips. “No need to explain.” She held out her arm, frowned when he didn’t take it. “What’s wrong?”
His gaze moved to her throat and lingered there.
“Oh.”
He started to reach for her, then paused. After removing his shirt, he wiped the blood from his shoulder, then wadded his shirt into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace before pulling her down on the sofa and taking her in his arms.
It was much more intimate—and pleasurable—to be held in his embrace when he drank from her. With a little shiver of anticipation, she pushed her hair out of the way and closed her eyes.
As always, he took only a little. When he was done, he ran his tongue over the tiny punctures, then kissed her cheek.
Callie smiled, and then frowned as a faint movement drew her gaze to his shoulder. She let out a gasp of amazement as she watched the ragged ends of the wound knit together.
“That’s . . . that’s . . . I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“If I’d fed earlier, I wouldn’t have needed to come here. Fresh blood always makes injuries hurt less and heal faster.”
“Glad to be of service,” she said with a wry grin.
“Ah, Callie, what a treasure you are.”
“Did a Knight do that?”
He nodded.
“Is he . . . ?”
“I don’t know. He was hit by a car during the struggle. I didn’t wait around to see if he survived.”
Callie stared at the faint white scars that marred Quill’s arms, chest, and belly. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be hunted, to be constantly on the alert, never knowing when or where you might be attacked.