Blood Hunt by Shannon K. Butcher Page A

hand fluttered to that spot, feeling an answering warmth glowing there so bright she was sure he could see it.
    A low hiss rose from him and his eyes flared bright, spilling light across her chest. “You should not tempt me.”
    Her voice shook with need as she answered. “I’m not doing anything.”
    “I am not a man,” he said, making it sound like a warning.
    “Then what are you?”
    “Dangerous. Hungry.”
    “Then let me feed you.” She’d meant food, but the way his gaze shot to her neck made her realize the other interpretations her words might have.
    “You’re too giving for your own good. I will use that against you. Eventually.”
    “But not now?”
    “Alas, no.”
    “Why warn me?” she asked.
    He shook his head, and when he spoke, she was sure she saw a white flash of fangs in his mouth. “I have no idea. You’re a weakness I can’t seem to understand. It’s best we complete our task and go our separate ways before I do something irrevocable.”
    He turned, striding toward the mattresses, clearly ending the conversation.
    Hope stood where she was, shaking. Now that he was farther away, she could feel her body returning to normal. Her pulse slowed, as did her breathing. The dots of sweat that had formed along her hairline evaporated into the cold night air. Her abdomen relaxed and that flush of heat dissipated from her skin.
    Whoever he was, what ever he was, Logan was potent. Intoxicating. Hope had always abstained from drugs and alcohol, worried that such things had contributed to her amnesia. She’d never even been tempted. But Logan was a different matter entirely. She wanted him. More than she’d ever wanted a man before in her life.
    It wasn’t right. She sensed that there was some reason he kept his distance.
    Perhaps he was married.
    The thought shriveled something small and hopeful in her heart. She’d never poach. Not even for a man as beautiful as Logan. It was best they kept their distance and stayed professional. She wouldn’t turn away his help to find Rory—she couldn’t do that to her friend—but she could keep things light. Stay detached.
    With that decision made, Hope felt better. Stronger. She pulled in a deep breath and went to Logan’s side where he was staring down at the floor.
    Silvery light spilled out over the dusty mattress. It was coming from Logan’s eyes.
    He appeared to be in some kind of trance, his focus beyond the floor. His face was lax and his breathing slow and even.
    A moment later, he blinked several times and crouched next to the mattress. “Someone was killed here.”
    “How can you tell?”
    He gave the mattress a hard shove and it slid over the floorboards, leaving a trail in the dust. There was a dark, irregular stain on the wood, several feet across. Hope shone her flashlight on it and saw the rusty brown of dried blood.
    “Is that what I think it is?” she asked.
    “Blood. And whomever it belonged to couldn’t have survived that kind of loss.”
    Hope didn’t ask him if he was sure. She guessed he knew what he was talking about in this area of expertise.
    “It looks old,” she said, trying to convince herself it was true. It had been only a few days since she’d seen Rory. It couldn’t be hers.
    “A couple of days at most.”
    Worry tightened Hope’s throat. “How can you tell?”
    “The smell. She was healthy at the time of her death.”
    “She?”
    “It’s a woman’s blood,” he said.
    “You can’t know that from the way it smells.”
    He stood suddenly, his eyes darting to the far side of the room. He grabbed her arm and pushed her behind him. “Someone’s here. Stay silent. I’ll shield us from sight.”
    She had no idea what he meant, but a second later, she felt a stirring of something around them. It brushed her cheek, but felt nothing like wind. The fine hair along her arms lifted as a silvery light slid up from the ground in a cylinder.
    It surrounded them both, pulsing and fluttering with what looked like