population. Why turn an ugly person and be stuck with them for the rest of your immortal existence?
But Hunter? He was an anomaly even among vampires.
Standing in front of him, staring straight ahead, she had a lovely view of his breastbone, which meant he was a little over six feet tall, and he had the kind of lean-muscled, rangy build that suggested his human life had been filled with a lot of manual labor (Or buffalo hunting, she supposed).
His skin? Miles and miles of caramel-colored, smooth perfection. Top that off with classically beautiful, Native American features and shoulder-length, shampoo-commercial-shiny black hair that—Mischa knew from experience—slid through a woman’s fingers like expensive silk, and…yeah, Hunter was pretty much yummy goodness from head to toe.
Well, she supposed there was no graceful way to ease into this conversation, so she took a deep breath and blurted out, “I need to kidnap a guy and I could use your help.”
He stared at her for so long she started to shift her weight nervously from one foot to the other. Would he turn her away? Yell at her for actively avoiding him for most of the past year? Slam the door in her face? It would probably serve her right. She had run away from him, left him naked in her bed with a set of blue…
“Let me grab my jacket.”
She blinked. “Just like that?”
He rolled his eyes. “You had me at ‘um…hi’.”
Mischa held in a relieved sigh as he grabbed a beat-up army jacket off the back of his sofa and shrugged into it. Thank God he hadn’t asked too many questions. She wasn’t exactly sure where to even start.
“Something tells me this all begins and ends with Harper,” he said.
Hunter stopped in front of her, so close that she caught a whiff of the clean, soapy scent of his skin. She struggled to keep from pressing her nose into the crook of his neck and taking a few nice, deep breaths. Then it occurred to her that he’d just addressed a comment she hadn’t voiced.
She tipped her chin up to meet his gaze and frowned at him. “How does Harper manage to spend so much time with you? Doesn’t it annoy her when you read her mind?”
He snorted. “I don’t read Harper’s mind.”
“Why not?”
“Reading Harper’s mind is a lot like slam dancing at a punk rock concert. It’s loud and disorienting, and everything moves a little too quickly. Sometimes you see and hear things you’d rather not.” He shook his head. “I tried it once and the headache didn’t go away for three days.”
That wasn’t really a surprise, Mischa thought. Sometimes just trying to keep up with the thoughts Harper actually put voice to was challenging. She could only imagine what it was like to swim around in her friend’s thoughts . “And yet you’re in my head all the time. What’s up with that?”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Your mind is the opposite of Harper’s. Calm and soothing most of the time. I can relax in your thoughts.”
She was boring, in other words. Her thoughts were enough to lull him to sleep.
He choked out a laugh and grabbed the end of her ponytail, giving it a gentle tug. “Hardly. There’s nothing about you that bores me, Mischa Bartone.”
And damned if hearing his deep, rich voice saying her name didn’t curl her toes. But that didn’t excuse him for intruding on her thoughts. Especially her thoughts about him. “From now on, can you please stop?”
“OK.”
She let out another relieved breath, but couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Again…it’s really just that easy?”
His gaze flicked down to her mouth for a moment, then lifted once again. “I told you once before that I’d never deny you anything. You can have anything you want from me.”
She had to squeeze her eyes shut at the mental images that statement conjured. Most of them should send her straight to confession. “Right now? I’ll settle for you helping me kidnap Leon Steinfeld. And staying out of my head.”
He
But Hunter? He was an anomaly even among vampires.
Standing in front of him, staring straight ahead, she had a lovely view of his breastbone, which meant he was a little over six feet tall, and he had the kind of lean-muscled, rangy build that suggested his human life had been filled with a lot of manual labor (Or buffalo hunting, she supposed).
His skin? Miles and miles of caramel-colored, smooth perfection. Top that off with classically beautiful, Native American features and shoulder-length, shampoo-commercial-shiny black hair that—Mischa knew from experience—slid through a woman’s fingers like expensive silk, and…yeah, Hunter was pretty much yummy goodness from head to toe.
Well, she supposed there was no graceful way to ease into this conversation, so she took a deep breath and blurted out, “I need to kidnap a guy and I could use your help.”
He stared at her for so long she started to shift her weight nervously from one foot to the other. Would he turn her away? Yell at her for actively avoiding him for most of the past year? Slam the door in her face? It would probably serve her right. She had run away from him, left him naked in her bed with a set of blue…
“Let me grab my jacket.”
She blinked. “Just like that?”
He rolled his eyes. “You had me at ‘um…hi’.”
Mischa held in a relieved sigh as he grabbed a beat-up army jacket off the back of his sofa and shrugged into it. Thank God he hadn’t asked too many questions. She wasn’t exactly sure where to even start.
“Something tells me this all begins and ends with Harper,” he said.
Hunter stopped in front of her, so close that she caught a whiff of the clean, soapy scent of his skin. She struggled to keep from pressing her nose into the crook of his neck and taking a few nice, deep breaths. Then it occurred to her that he’d just addressed a comment she hadn’t voiced.
She tipped her chin up to meet his gaze and frowned at him. “How does Harper manage to spend so much time with you? Doesn’t it annoy her when you read her mind?”
He snorted. “I don’t read Harper’s mind.”
“Why not?”
“Reading Harper’s mind is a lot like slam dancing at a punk rock concert. It’s loud and disorienting, and everything moves a little too quickly. Sometimes you see and hear things you’d rather not.” He shook his head. “I tried it once and the headache didn’t go away for three days.”
That wasn’t really a surprise, Mischa thought. Sometimes just trying to keep up with the thoughts Harper actually put voice to was challenging. She could only imagine what it was like to swim around in her friend’s thoughts . “And yet you’re in my head all the time. What’s up with that?”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Your mind is the opposite of Harper’s. Calm and soothing most of the time. I can relax in your thoughts.”
She was boring, in other words. Her thoughts were enough to lull him to sleep.
He choked out a laugh and grabbed the end of her ponytail, giving it a gentle tug. “Hardly. There’s nothing about you that bores me, Mischa Bartone.”
And damned if hearing his deep, rich voice saying her name didn’t curl her toes. But that didn’t excuse him for intruding on her thoughts. Especially her thoughts about him. “From now on, can you please stop?”
“OK.”
She let out another relieved breath, but couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Again…it’s really just that easy?”
His gaze flicked down to her mouth for a moment, then lifted once again. “I told you once before that I’d never deny you anything. You can have anything you want from me.”
She had to squeeze her eyes shut at the mental images that statement conjured. Most of them should send her straight to confession. “Right now? I’ll settle for you helping me kidnap Leon Steinfeld. And staying out of my head.”
He
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