Page 1 of Wolf Hunter

ChapterOne

Tasha

Open the window. Kill the vampire. Get the hell out.

It was supposed to be easy. One of those quick, snap-your-finger contracts. This is what I do for a living. I kill people. Not to boast, but I am pretty damn good at it.

So why is this window being such a pain in the ass?

Probably because I’d taken a job back in my hometown, and now the universe wants to punish me for it. Bad memories, right along with a bastard window not wanting to cooperate and a vampire to stake.

The wood squeaks and groans, swollen from a recent rain and the unseasonably warm winter weather in Maine. Give it a day and all that will change. I know from personal experience.

Tonight, though, I have a boot braced against the wall and both hands in prime prying position. Except it refuses to budge.

I also know better than to grunt or groan or give away my position, even when I really want to scream at the thing. Curse it off. My last nerve is paper thin and ready to snap.

I pull out my hunting knife and run it along the edges of the pane for the tenth time and then jam the blade between the sill and window. After some fierce wiggling and four broken nails, I manage to get the window pried open without much noise. Score one for me. Only now I have to catch my breath.

I’m getting too old for this.

When I finally have enough space to fit, I fold my body through the opening and jump down into a dark sitting room full of couches, bookshelves, and a cold fireplace. The place is quiet and a chill clings to the air.

The fanger must be sleeping. Perfect.

I just have to find his hidey-hole, stake him, and get out before the sun sets.

Sounds easy enough. Hopefully the window will be the worst of this job.

On tiptoes, I creep over to one of the bookshelves and scan the book spines and trinkets the vampire’s collected during his many years as an immortal. I choke back a laugh when I find dozens of cheesy romance novels instead of classic literature or priceless first editions.

Hey, no judgment here. Everyone has their thing. I just didn’t peg a five-hundred-year-old blood sucker to collect Fabio-covered paperbacks.

“I enjoy their simplicity and their…imagination,” a voice rumbles from behind me.

My gut plummets.

I whirl around and come face-to-face with the fanger I’m supposed to take out.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

My luck is shit today.

His eyes glaze red as he stares straight through me. At last, he smiles and the points of his red-stained teeth dig into his lower lip. Ah, shit. I must’ve caught him during a feeding session, which means two things. One, he’s at his strongest now, with the fresh blood coursing through his veins, and two, he’s pissed I interrupted his meal.

“Did you want something? A recommendation?” he asks.

“I’m more of a thriller and mystery lover, myself.” My fingers squeeze a little tighter around my blade’s handle. Even though it’s the slightest bit of movement, his gaze drops to it, and his entire face contorts with anger.

I don’t have time to swing my knife before his arm lashes out, and I’m flying across the room. The side of my head collides with one of the shelves, and trashy romance novels rain down on me. My breath is punched from my lungs, and pain shoots down my back, but when I try to shield my head from Fabio’s assault, I realize I’m empty-handed. My knife! Where is it?

Even worse, the vamp is coming for me, snarling like a wild animal with his fangs on full display.

I try shifting through the paperbacks, but he’s rushing at me too fast.

I need something else.

Pulse in overdrive, I reach into myself for that familiar tingle of magic I know so well. The kind that allows me to shift my appearance so that I can blend into my background. I can become invisible… as long as I stay still. Changing on the move is nearly impossible.

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