Page 4 of Daring Her Vampires
For shifters, finding a mate is the ultimate gift. The universe decides your perfect match, but you never know when or if it will put them in your path. We live a long fucking time, and without a mate to share it with, the years are empty. Shifters can live forever if you're careful, but we age very slowly. We can be killed. Vampires are harder to kill. If a vampire doesn’t find their mate at a certain point, they can go insane and become out of control. Shifters can, too, but it’s not as likely. Some may think I’m a bit wild, but I am far from going off the deep end.
Pulling in front of my place, I grab my purse and get out. I rent an apartment because I saw no point in buying a house. It’s a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment with a small living room and kitchen combo. I hustle up the stairs to the second floor and unlock my door.
A couple of months ago, Rylee, a fox shifter and Heath’s sister, was staying with me, but she left weeks ago when she found her own place. We still talk, but she doesn’t come over much anymore and hasn’t joined many of the gatherings.
The second after I lock the door and drop my purse on the little stand inside the door, I turn on the television. Slipping off my heels, I turn on the lights and get a beer. Stopping in front of the sink, I pick up the vase of flowers and refill them. Touching the soft yellow petals, I move them to the counter and lean against it, taking a long sip of the beer. I miss Rylee. I like my space, but I’ve never been a fan of living alone. Rowen needs silence, and I need noise. When you sit in silence without distractions, the demons from the past slip into your head.
I am blessed. Finding a community of shifters and vampires who will always protect you and the family is rare. I stumbled—okay, maybe forced—my way into their world when my friend Saylor was in trouble, but they haven’t kicked me out. I revel in the loud group. There is always something going on or a party to go to.
I need it.
I need them.
My childhood was spent in silence and fear. I know better than most that blood doesn’t mean fuck-all. I’m a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old rabbit shifter who doesn’t have a mate, but I found a family.
And I won’t let go.
Chapter Two
Sally
Most people underestimate me. They see a short, blonde, slim rabbit shifter and make assumptions. My boss, Quinn, a bear shifter, wasn’t sure it was the best choice to hire me, but I insisted. I work at his investigation agency as a receptionist. It may seem like a cushy, easy job. Let me tell you, it’s depressing as hell. Quinn specializes in helping women escape their abusive partners. I admire what he does, but every day, I see his clients in tears. The terror on their faces makes me want to hunt the fuckers myself; Quinn told me I couldn’t do that.
One of those women is with him in his office, spilling all the horrible things her husband has done to her. Quinn will take her case and nail the fucker for all he has done. A few husbands orboyfriends of our clients have paid us a visit to yell at Quinn. Some have tried to get physical with him, which is a big mistake. Quinn always wins. One guy backed me against the wall, and I had the pleasure of kneeing him in the balls.
In such a stressful atmosphere, I choose to lighten the mood by wearing what I call my‘sexy office clothes.’ Today, I’m wearing my tight red skirt that hits my knees, sexy black jeweled high heels, and a red blazer with a deep vee. The button on my top sits between my breasts, so I do not need a shirt underneath. The days of shoulder pads are gone, thank goodness, so my blazer fits like a dream.
My shoe straps wrap around my calf, and my hair is wavy. My necklaces are silver and dangle in my cleavage. To match my outfit, I went dramatic with my makeup and put on my best red lipstick. It doesn’t smear even if I am sucking on a lollipop as I’m doing now. My feet are crossed on the desk, and I’m flipping through a magazine propped on my lap.
“Sally,” Quinn calls as he opens his door, stepping out and shutting it slightly. “I need to escort Meg to her car and make sure he didn’t put a tracker on it.”
“Sure thing, Boss.” I smile brightly, and his eyes begin to roll. “I’ve got it covered.” His roll turns into a glare as he looks at my feet on the desk.
“Right,” he grumbles. His grouchiness is just a cover for his soft heart. “Remember, Shade is sending someone to discuss a case today.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” I widen my eyes innocently and blink twice.
“Is that possible?” he asks.
I shrug. “Probably.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles and returns to his office. Seconds later, he comes out with a pretty blonde. He points down the hallwayto the back door, and Meg shuffles in that direction, her head lowered.
Poor girl. When Quinn has clients he believes are in immediate danger, he takes them out the back door. It’s less visible. If it’s unsafe for them to go home, he sets them up in a safe house. He has numerous employees behind the scenes. I’ve only met two of them, Kade and Cash. They are intense, quiet tiger shifters who help the women stay safe until the danger passes. All the shifters here are gorgeous, and they are no exception. I thought about trying to sass them just to see what would happen.
Shade is an appropriate name for the man. He’s mysterious and works in the background. I don’t know what kind of shifter he is or where he lives, but he seems to know a lot about the family. Quinn has worked with him but doesn’t reveal much. The dragon shifters, Kingston and Maverick, have worked for Shade for years; unfortunately, none of my meddling has caused them to spill the beans about him.
I release my sucker with a pop, prop my elbow on the desk, and twirl it in the air while I look at a fabulous outfit on the page. As much as I love the internet, thumbing through a magazine brings back the days of lying in the grass, getting baked by the sun.
The door flies open, and every fucking hair on my body stands up. Slowly turning my head, I stare at the two men who stalk through the door. Yummy, hot-as-fuck men. My lips part, and my body lights up. I can’t move or talk as I watch them come closer.
Vampires.
My mates.
What the fuck?
Shifters and vampires know the second they are within the presence of their mate just by scent alone. There is also aknowing in our gut that they belong to us. Vampires don’t necessarily have a scent, but a lack of one, a void. If you haven’t been in the presence of one, you wouldn’t know that they are different, except for the otherworldly beauty they possess. I know these vampires are meant to mine.
