Page 39 of Stalked By Seduction and Shadows

“Sheesh, watch your head, Race,” the dark-haired man said. “It’s cramped in here.”

“You have the wrong apartment,” I said, louder now. Two more vampires entered the space with a table and chair set carved from dark wood that fit oddly perfectly in a nook between the kitchen and living room.

“Nope,” the copper-haired man repeated.

They all essentially ignored me. Each time one would glance at me, a tinge of hunger would flash in their eyes before they immediately averted their gaze and appeared utterly disinterested.

I stood rigid as wood, subtly inching toward my bedroom where the dagger lay under my bed. When one of them went in my room with a bedside table, I held my breath. The weapon wasn’t even hidden. He’d see it immediately.

I listened to each of his steps, the thud of the bedside table, and then a pause that went on forever.

My heart hammered when he returned holding the dagger—the only thing in this apartment that might’ve given me a chance at protecting myself.

He flipped it gracefully in his hand, towering over me as he handed me the brass hilt with a grin.

I stared up at him. My hand shook as I grabbed it.

“There. Feel better?” He was mocking me. Or was he playing with his food?

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, taking a big step back as I held the weapon tight.

His light blond hair fell forward as he shrugged, looking me up and down. “Absolutely no idea.”

I frowned. When one of them placed a bouquet of deep burgundy, thorny roses in a vase on my new circular dining table, I had at least a partial answer.

I was no stranger to secret admirers and their attempts to gain my affection. But this was the biggest display by a longshot. I looked around at the impeccably designed space—romantic, classic, and darkly feminine—and I was stunned at how accurate to my own tastes each piece was.

“Who?” I asked. My gaze flitted from vampire to vampire. Clearly, they’d been sent or hired by whoever was trying to woo me. I tried to rack my brain for any indication from last night—out of the dozens of conversations I’d had, there’d been plenty with vampires and mortals who screamed wealth and power.

“Who sent you?”

Blank faces, all around. A few smirked at my growing frustration.

Then, they left. None of them said a single word to me. None of them had grabbed me, bitten me, or made a single crude remark. They’d knocked.

I ran to the door, dagger still in hand, and quickly locked it as if locks meant anything to a violent, ruling clan of immortals.

They were turned. That had to mean whoever orchestrated this had to have been turned, too, right? I’d flirted with plenty of them last night.

Wait.

My heart tumbled over itself, all the air leaving my lungs like I’d gotten punched in the gut.

How the fuck did they know I didn’t have any furniture? Or what would fit inside my apartment? Or where I lived?

The dagger clattered to the floor before I even registered that I’d let it go. I stood in a stunned stupor for three long seconds before I remembered the splatter of blood across Isabella’s sheets, her bone-chilling scream of terror that cut through the cold stillness of night.

I also remembered that the last server in my position had been murdered on her way home from Odessa.

Had someone been inside my apartment? Had they followed me back here last night? Or was it that man who’d inhaled my scent in the alley, as if he’d been remembering me for later? Had he been tracking me all this time?

Oh, Helia.

What if the vampires who’d taken Isabella could remember my scent and use it to find me too?

I quickly walked the short length of my apartment, peeking behind my shower curtain and checking the closets and under the bed with my heart in my throat. When I was satisfied I was truly alone, I slammed both windows shut tight and locked them.

No more sleeping with the windows open. I’d have to settle for a chilly apartment rather than my preferred ice box sleeping temperature.

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