LITMIR.BIZ

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      “So that’s how you kill ’em, huh?” He bent down, dipped a finger in the L10’s blood. “I’ll have to remember that.” He brought the fingertip to his lips, then frowned.

      Level-ten demon blood was sour as hell.

      The music started again then. The strumming of the guitar was light at first, tentative. Then louder, stronger as the vampires and humans began to drift from the shadows.

      Maya stepped over the demon. His body would be taken care of. She knew Armand had a policy of destroying the dead left in his bar.

      She’d settled her score. Now it was time for her to leave.

      She hated the killing.

      He wasn’t a man.

      He’d been a monster. Evil. Deadly.

      A monster.

      Just like she was.

      Maya shoved open the door, stepping into the night. She didn’t look down at Hugh. She couldn’t bear to, not then, but she knew he was dead. She could no longer hear his heart beating.

      Human. Hugh had been a human, a watcher of sorts, just like Sean. He’d always been civil to her.

      The guy had also never tried to kill her, a definite mark in his favor.

      Footsteps thundered behind her. Eager whispers reached her ears.

      She froze. Didn’t glance over her shoulder. “Don’t even think about drinking from him.” The scavengers drank from the dead.

      But she didn’t want anyone drinking from Hugh.

      “Bury him. Get him a priest. But don’t drink from him.” Now she did turn back, looking at each vampire in turn. “Or I’ll come back for you.”

      The fear that flashed on their faces told her that they believed her. Good. Because she’d hate to have to hunt them down.

      Too much work.

      Maya inclined her head, then stalked down the road. Every step, the air became a little cleaner. The stench of death faded. She could almost pretend that she hadn’t just been in hell.

      She’d easily traveled ten blocks before she realized that she was being followed. It was the faintest of sounds that alerted her. A soft sigh. Could have been a whisper of breath or a scuff of a shoe on the pavement.

      But Maya knew she wasn’t alone on the dark street.

      Her nostrils flared slightly as she inhaled. Since her change, all of her senses had grown stronger. Hearing. Smell. Sight.

      Especially sight. She could see perfectly in the dark. When she hunted, it was like she was using some kind of heat vision. She could see the warm red glow of her prey. Could stalk and hunt easily for miles.

      Normally, she could also smell with the detection of an animal. She could pick up scents, even identify different people from miles away.

      But tonight, she didn’t smell any trace of her pursuer.

      Just as earlier, when the human had approached her, she hadn’t detected his scent. Which was damn odd. Humans always carried a scent. Perfume. Cigarettes. Soap. Something. But that guy, the tall, dark guy who’d approached her in the feeding room, he’d had no scent.

      Maya rolled her shoulders, stood in the middle of the street, and waited.

      It didn’t take a genius to understand who was on her trail. She really, really wasn’t in the mood for any more shit right then.

      “You’re starting to get on my bad side,” she said, and her voice carried easily in the night.

      Silence.

      One moment.

      Two.

      Then, footsteps. Slow. Steady. The guy wasn’t trying to hide anymore. Good.

      Maya turned on her heel and watched as her stalker approached. It was him, of course. She could tell by the strong, muscular shape of his body.

      He stepped under a streetlight, and the fluorescent glow shone down on his black hair. Maya studied him a moment, frowning. The guy was big. Not especially tall. She gauged him to be a bit over six feet, but he was solidly muscled—every inch of him.

      He wore a black jacket over his shirt. Loose jeans encased his long legs, and a scuffed pair of boots covered his feet.

      The guy wasn’t handsome. Not in the cover-boy style that most humans found so popular these days. His face was hard, rugged. His cheekbones were sharp, his nose a little too long. He had a strong, square jawline and a faint cleft in his chin. His lips were firm, a bit thin, and currently pressed into a tight line.

      And his eyes…She’d never seen eyes quite like his before. The green was so deep, so dark. Emerald. He had emerald eyes.

      Those eyes of his, they made her nervous. Very nervous.

      Something was off about the guy, and as he closed the final distance between them, her body went on alert.

      “Wanna tell me why you’re following me, Slick?” Did the man have some kind of death wish? He’d seen what she’d done to the demon—that should have been a big clue for him to stay the hell away from her.

      “My name”—his voice rumbled from deep in his chest—“is Adam. Adam Brody.” No accent marked the words.

      Maya grunted. She didn’t really care about his name. She just wanted him to leave her alone. “You didn’t answer my question.”

      “I told you before, Maya, I need your help.”

      He knew her name. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be impressed by that fact or worried. After considering the situation for three seconds, she decided she was neither.

      Most of the supernaturals in Los Angeles knew who she was. She hadn’t exactly made a habit of hiding her identity. She didn’t know if Adam Brody fell into the supernatural category or if he was just a well-informed human, but either way, she didn’t really care that he knew her identity.

      And the guy was still singing his song about needing help. She sighed, then muttered, “I told you, I’m not into helping people.” Killing, that was another matter. “Do yourself a favor. Stay away from me.” Her gaze darted to the night sky, gauging the location of the moon. She needed to hurry if she was going to make it to the hospital before dawn.

      Maya turned to go—

      Adam grabbed her arm.

      She stared at his hand a moment. The long, tanned fingers. His flesh felt warm against her.

      When was the last time a guy had chosen to touch her? Without, of course, the intent to kill?

      Her life was so screwed up.

      “Let go,” she ordered.

      “No.”

      Now that had her jerking back to face him fully, her brows lifted. “Who are you?”

      His eyes narrowed. “I told you, I’m Adam Brody, and I—”

      “No.” That wasn’t what she meant. Time to try again. “What are you?”

      He blinked. “A man who needs help.”

      A man. Maya wasn’t sure she believed that. “For a human, you seem awful relaxed to be here, talking with me.”

      He shrugged. “So you’re a vampire. I’ve met your kind before.”

      Oh, she’d just bet he had. Adam Brody was holding out on her, and she was no one’s fool. “I’m not just a vampire,” she whispered, watching closely for his response as she stepped toward him and brushed her body against his. Mmm, she liked the way he felt. Liked the hard steel of his muscles. “I’m a very hungry vampire.” Her hand lifted and Maya trailed her fingers down his throat.

      She

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