Heart of a Huntress
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Want more tales from the Kavanuagh Foundation?
Angelic Surrender
Heart of a Huntress
The Kavanaugh Foundation, Book 1
Crista McHugh
A legend…a myth…a high stakes game that could shatter them both.
As one of the oldest surviving vampire hunters in the Foundation, Lana has learned the toughest lesson: success comes at a price. So while the yummy stranger she bumps into at Caesar’s trips all her temptation switches, duty comes first. Better to be alone than to gamble with someone else’s heart—or her own. Although maybe a one-night stand won’t hurt…
Byron has set a one-way course for revenge against the Vegas vampire who murdered his uncle. When he collides with Lana, though, her scent calls to him like a potent aphrodisiac. The only explanation: she’s his true-mate. And the timing couldn’t be worse. He can’t afford any distractions—not to mention it’ll be hell convincing her to love someone who sprouts fur and fangs every full moon.
One drink together turns into a daring night of passion. Their erotic interlude ends abruptly with the news that Lana’s partner has been abducted by the very vampire Byron seeks. Now Byron has no choice. He must reveal what he is and risk a rejection that could spell his own destruction…
Warning: Contains a hot and steamy taxi ride, wild sex you want to sink your teeth into, and a shower at the Venetian that may need to be closed for repairs until further notice.
Chapter One
The hairs on Lana’s neck stood on end and she grinned. Despite the cacophonic chaos of the hundreds of slot machines in Caesars’ main casino, she’d found her target. His skin had a slightly orange tinge from too much sunless tanner, and his smile remained tight as he flirted with the half-drunk cougar sitting next to him.
The woman laughed a bit too loudly and playfully smacked his arm, flattered that this gorgeous man who appeared to be half her age was paying attention to her. “Why don’t we continue this conversation upstairs?” she asked and gathered her chips into her oversized rhinestone-studded handbag.
Lana stood when they did, hoping not to draw his attention as the three of them weaved through the crowd. He must be newly born if he’s preying on her. Either that, or he was too hungry to be particular. Bloodsuckers tended to enjoy those whose youth and beauty matched their own, not withered prunes visiting from Sheboygan. But Las Vegas was a buffet for them, and they usually found something to soothe their appetites.
She remained focused on the couple in front of her, ducking between machines when the cougar paused to show off her conquest to some friends camped out in front of the penny slots. He fidgeted and stared at the faint pulsation under the saggy skin of her neck, his lips growing thinner as she pinched his ass.
Subtle, lady. Real subtle. She’d be lucky if he didn’t rip her throat out the second he got her alone. That is, if Lana let that happen. She wrapped her fingers around the stake in the bottom of her purse and licked her lips. Who needs mace in this town when a nice shaven piece of oak takes care of most predators? She’d been hunting vampires for years. She was good—probably one of the best in the Kavanaugh Foundation—and she’d be damned if some sex-starved Mrs. Robinson wannabe marred her reputation.
When they moved again, she darted out from between the slot machines and collided with a solid mass of muscle. The stake slipped from her grasp as a pair of hands grabbed her and kept her from landing flat on her ass.
“Sorry about that. I…” The male voice trailed off when she lifted her face.
Dear God, he was gorgeous. Not the ethereal perfection that vampires had, but real, down-to-earth, rugged-male yumminess. The tanned hue of his skin and blond highlights in his hair came from hours in the sun, not a bottle, and a faded scar divided his left eyebrow in half. Warmth gathered in the pit of her stomach, dampening her panties. How long had it been since a man aroused her this much just from a glance?
He sucked in a deep breath and his eyes widened. “I—I didn’t mean to knock you over.” He made no effort to release her, though. Instead, he looked like he wanted to take her upstairs and do all kinds of naughty things to her body.
The tingling at the back of her neck faded, tearing her away from her little lust-filled vacation. Work called. She pushed against his chest. “Excuse me, but I’m running late.”
His arms loosened and he took a step back. “Of course.”
She searched the floor for her stake, cursing that she’d only packed one this evening. Each second she wasted brought Gladys the Cougar that much closer to becoming a vampire’s dinner.
He swooped down and retrieved the stake from under one of the nearby machines. “Looking for this?”
“Thanks.” She snatched it back and shoved it back into her purse. For the first time in twelve years, she cursed her job. She’d rather stay here and get to know this stranger than rescue some stupid old lady who practically invited trouble up to her room.
He quirked the brow with the scar. “No problem. Odd accessory for a night at Caesars, I must say.”
Her cheeks burned. The Kavanaugh Foundation’s mission was to protect innocent humans from the things that go bump in the night, not bring them to their attention. She turned on her heels and ran in the direction she’d seen the bloodsucker heading, hoping she hadn’t lost her target.
She reached the main lobby and closed her eyes, shutting her other senses off so her so-called sixth sense could take over. The tingling grew stronger when she turned toward the Tower elevators. She opened her eyes and sprinted after them.
“Hold the doors.” She stuck her hand in front of the sliding metal and grinned when she saw the couple she’d been trailing.
A frown deepened the wrinkles in the cougar’s face. She looked like she wanted to begin the nibbling before she got to her room. Too bad. “What floor?”
Lana scanned the numbers, looking for the lit one. Adrenaline rushed through her body the way it always did right before a kill. “Twenty-two.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the car as they rode up. The woman practically draped herself over the vampire, her hand groping his crotch.
Lana’s stomach lurched from the display. Geez, lady. Get a room. “Times must be tough if your kind are resorting to playing gigolos to little old ladies.”
The woman gasped at the insult, but it had the desired effect. He pulled his teeth back in a snarl, revealing his razor-sharp fangs. The elevator dinged as he lunged for her.
Lana squeezed through the opening doors out into the hallway and reached for her stake. “What? The truth hurts?” she taunted, luring him away from his intended victim.
He grabbed Lana’s hair and yanked her head back, exposing her throat. “I’m going to enjoy drinking you dry.” His ice blue eyes glowed with an unholy fire that she’d seen hundreds of times before. The feeding frenzy.
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” With the cool confidence gained from years of experience, she plunged the stake straight into his undead heart. Death spasms racked his body and she shoved him off her. He disintegrated before he hit the floor.
A scream echoed down the hallway. The cougar stood frozen by the elevator with her mouth agape and her hand clutching
her heart. “What—what—what—” she stammered over and over as she pointed a bony finger at the pile of dust where her potential lover once stood.
Lana picked up her stake and cleaned it off before she stowed it in her purse. The truth always hurt, but at least the lady was alive to realize it. “You’re welcome, ma’am. Have a good evening.”
She punched the down button and disappeared into the elevator as soon as it arrived.
***
Byron watched the woman disappear into the crowd, too stunned to move. For years he’d dismissed the myth of predestined mates as a bunch of mumbo jumbo his uncle told him to keep him from screwing anything with a pulse.
Then he inhaled her scent.
Sweet Jesus, it was intoxicating, like sex and smooth single-malt whiskey rolled into one. And he couldn’t complain about the package wrapped around it, either. Dark brown hair, stormy blue-grey eyes and legs that went on forever. He could almost see them wrapped around his waist as he plunged his cock into her over and over again.
Speaking of which, his cock was already straining against the zipper of his jeans. If he wanted to follow her, he needed to get his mind out of the gutter while he could still walk. Even though he’d lost sight of her in the crowd, her scent tugged at him like a leash. He grimaced. Who’d have thought one woman could almost bring him to his knees? He had to at least know her name.
The fog in his mind had slowly lifted by the time he reached the lobby. What the hell was a woman like her doing with a wooden stake? The Buffy convention wasn’t in town. He wondered if he hadn’t fallen head over tail for a real nut-job.
She dashed toward a closing elevator and wedged her hand in the doorway. Her scent wafted over him, along with another all-too-familiar stench. A growl rose in the back of his throat. Vampire.
The elevator had already begun its ascent. He punched the up button several times while he watched the numbers above the door. It stopped on the twenty-second floor. He reached inside his blazer for his gun. His mouth watered. He couldn’t wait to catch the vampire and beat the crap out it until he found out who killed his uncle. They’d violated the treaty, and now there’d be hell to pay.
Another elevator opened and he jumped in and pressed the floor. Can this thing move any slower? He compulsively checked the chamber of his 9mm, making sure the clip was fully loaded with wooden-tipped bullets. An image of the woman with her throat torn out flashed in front of his eyes, and his heart skipped a beat. Please don’t let me be too late.
As soon as the door opened, he ran out with this gun cocked and ready to fire. The sight that greeted him, though, jerked him to a standstill.
An old woman screamed and brought her hand to her chest. “Don’t shoot! I didn’t do anything.” A cascade of sobs followed.
He peered past her at the pile of dust on the floor and cursed. So much for getting any leads from him.
He released the cocking mechanism and slid the gun back in his holster.
The old lady dug her fingers into his arms. “I swear I didn’t know he was some kind of monster.” She was trembling worse than a building in an earthquake.
He placed his hands on her shoulders to calm her. “What happened?”
“I just wanted to feel sexy again. We were going up to my room, and then this girl said something to him, and then—” Her eyes widened, hiding her tattooed eyeliner in the drooping folds of her lids. “He had fangs. Large ones. And he tried to bite her neck.”
He nodded and tried to keep his face calm. “Did he have a German accent?”
She shook her head. “She stabbed him and he turned into dust.” More sobs racked her body and she buried her face against his shirt, soaking it.
Byron awkwardly wrapped his arms around her and let her cry. Whoever his mystery woman was, she knew how to kill vampires. His jaw tightened. He just hoped he’d have a chance to find her before they did.
Chapter Two
Lana collapsed on the couch in her apartment and kicked off her high-heeled sandals. The only problem with patrolling the nicer casinos in town was having to dress the part, even if it made her job ten times more painful. Why couldn’t she have been assigned to Maui, where she could wear flip-flops every day and no one would bat an eyelash?
Her mind recounted the evening’s events so she could accurately report them to the Foundation. Three newly born vampires killed. One startled old lady. And one man who still made her sex ache when she thought of him.
Well, maybe she’d leave him out of her report. She just wished she could get him out of her thoughts. People like her had no right to dream about naughty interludes with perfect strangers, but damn, it felt good to have a man look at her that way.
Lana closed her eyes and sighed. Maybe it was time to consider retirement. As if that were even possible. Every time she’d feel the hair on her neck stand up, she’d reach for a wooden stake. Hunters like her didn’t retire; they hunted until a vampire killed them. She’d already outlived everyone she trained with. It was just a matter of time before her number came up. Occupational hazard.
The screen of her laptop flickered to life and she slid her Kavanaugh Foundation CAC card into the slot. A few taps of the keyboard later, she entered the secure website and filled out her report. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. Something strange was happening here in Vegas—definitely something that shouldn’t stay in Vegas. Fifteen new vamps killed this week alone. If she didn’t know better, she’d say someone had a bloodsucker factory operating here in town.
The question was why?
She mentioned her suspicions in her report and submitted it. Someone would scan the local hospitals to see if the cougar had a nervous breakdown from what she witnessed, and if she did, one of the Foundation’s witches would come into town and alter her memory. Thankfully, most people refused to believe what they’d seen after a vampire attack. Gladys, on the other hand, looked like she might’ve suffered a bout of angina from the brief ordeal. Lana chewed her bottom lip. Maybe she should’ve sent someone up to check on her before she left Caesars.
Her guilt over the old lady subsided the second she clicked her laptop closed. Maybe that’d teach her to stick to men her own age. The only thing that nagged her was the fear she’d end up like the old lady— alone, on the prowl, and willing to gamble with whatever piece of ass came her way. Would she have jumped the stranger in the casino if she hadn’t been on the job? Would a one-night stand with a passing tourist relieve the ache building between her legs or just remind her of what she could never have?
Something about the way he looked at her had seemed hungry and possessive, like the moment she entered his bed he’d never let her go. Her pulse raced at the thought of it. What would it feel like to be loved, cherished, desired?
Bitterness choked her throat. She’d made her choice long ago. The life of a hunter was a lonely one, but someone needed to do it. Better to be alone and not have to deal with losing someone she cared about. Or worse, causing them pain when she finally met her grisly end.
The sun peeked over the horizon, signaling the start of a new day. The bloodsuckers wouldn’t be prowling the Strip any more tonight. Time to get some sleep before starting the next hunt. She retreated to the cool blue hues of her bedroom, pulled the blackout curtains shut and crawled into bed. The last thing she remembered as she drifted off to sleep was the stranger’s face.
***
Bright sunlight streamed through the opening between the curtains when Lana opened her eyes. She rolled over and checked her alarm clock. 3:23 p.m. Lovely. Waking up seven minutes before her alarm and so horny she doubted anything in her toy box could satisfy her. Maybe she’d have to make a detour past one of the many adult stores that lined the Strip and find something new.
Or maybe she’d take a night off from hunting and track down that stranger.
She snorted. Take a night off. How comical. Like the bloodsuckers ever took a night off, and it was her against an entire city of them. She yawned and set about
her normal morning routine: thirty minutes of yoga poses, a hot shower and back to the laptop.
The first email in her inbox didn’t surprise her. Wade Pemberly, head of the Foundation, acknowledging her concerns about the recent influx of new vampires. As one of the oldest active hunters, he usually respected her opinion. He dropped her a brief line letting her know that he’d discuss it with the board and consider sending her some temporary reinforcements.
The next email—time-stamped three hours later—pissed her off. Instead of sending her seasoned reinforcements, they decided to send a rookie fresh out of training to gain more on-the-job experience.
A string of curse words flew from her mouth, almost every other one of them an F-bomb. Yes, newborn vamps were easier to kill than the older ones, but she didn’t need to play nanny to some wet-behind-the-ears kid.
She opened the dossier and reached in her desk drawer for her hidden stash of chocolate. Three pieces of dark cocoa bliss later, she’d finally calmed down enough to read past the name on the first line. Esperanza (Espe) Casañas. Age nineteen. A few more four-letter words exploded from her mouth. How the hell did they expect this kid to patrol the casino floors when she wasn’t even old enough to buy a beer? Lana ground her teeth together. The Foundation had better send Espe with a decent fake ID if they wanted her to get anything out of her time in Vegas.
Her dossier seemed unremarkable. Born in Miami. Parents were Cuban immigrants who were killed by a vamp when she was only seven. Grew up at the Kavanaugh Academy. Same story as the rest of the hunters out there.
Well, most of the hunters, anyway. Losing a family member to a bloodsucker at a young age seemed to awaken all those revenge urges, but Lana was different. She’d never spent time at the Academy, the Foundation’s orphanage for kids who’d escaped a feeding frenzy. She’d grown up a relatively normal life, if she left out the part that certain people occasionally gave her a major case of the heebie-jeebies. It wasn’t until Max died that she learned these “people” were really vampires, and she had a built-in radar system for them.