13. Kim

Chapter 13

Kim

I close the door behind me, and linger for a moment longer than necessary. The image of Luna, half-naked and vulnerable, is seared into my brain. Fuck. Seeing her like that, it took everything I had not to stare.

She looks so much like Sarah it's uncanny. The same curves, the same soft skin, even the way she tilts her head when she's thinking. It's like seeing a ghost, except this ghost is very much alive and currently locked in a vampire's spare room.

I start walking down the hallway, my mind racing. I tried to play it cool, act like I wasn't affected by the fact she was missing half her clothes. But who am I kidding? She's stunning. The kind of beautiful that makes you forget how to breathe for a second and sends heat straight to your cock.

Running a hand through my hair, I try to shake off the memories of Sarah that are threatening to overwhelm me. It's not fair to Luna to compare her to my dead wife. And it's not fair to Sarah, either.

Luna is her own person with her own story. A story that's currently tangled up with vampires, demon hunters, and god knows what else. And she's beautiful in her own right. Not just because she reminds me of the only woman I ever loved.

As I draw further away from her, her question echoes in my mind.

She asked if she should try to escape, and I told her to stay.

Was that the right thing to say?

The urge to protect her hits me like a punch to the gut. It's irrational and sudden, but undeniable.

But protect her from what, exactly? Lucien seems genuinely concerned for her safety, even if his methods are questionable. The vampire attack at the bookshop was real enough. But then there's the shadow magick we saw on the security footage. If she really does have that kind of power, she might need protection from herself. Or from Lucien... because I have no idea what he wants with her if she turns out to be who he thinks she is.

Maybe it's neither of those things.

Maybe I just want to protect her from the pain she's in. The way she winced when she moved, the tightness around her eyes – it's clear she's suffering.

Well, fuck that.

I might not be able to set her free, but I don't have to watch her suffer.

I stop in my tracks, decision made. I'm not going to ask Lucien about getting her pills. I'm just going to do it. He can throw a fit later if he wants, but I'm not leaving Luna in pain when I can do something about it.

This is probably a terrible idea. Lucien's not exactly known for his forgiving nature, especially when it comes to people going behind his back. But the thought of her curled up in that chair, hurting and alone, makes my chest ache in a way I haven't felt in a long time.

Before leaving, I drop back into Lucien's office, return the key to Luna's room, tell him she's fine, and that I didn't sense anything weird about her energy – which is true, by the way. Then I make up some bullshit about going to ask questions in town, and head out.

As I slide into the driver's seat of my beat-up Volvo, I can't help laughing at the absurdity of it all.

I'm defying a powerful vampire to fetch medication for a woman I barely know, all because she reminds me of my dead wife.

Sarah would've found this hilarious. She always said I had a hero complex.

The bookshop is eerily quiet when I arrive, and once again I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched.

Paranoia or hunter instinct?

These days, it's hard to tell the difference.

I use the spare key Lucien gave me earlier and slip inside. The smell of old books and lingering vampire guts hits me immediately.

Despite my thorough clean-up job, there's still an undercurrent of supernatural energy that makes my skin prickle.

Luna's medication isn't hard to find. It's right there in the desk drawer, a plain white box with her name printed on it. As I pick it up, I catch sight of her address on the label.

A plan forms in my mind before I can talk myself out of it.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," I mutter, pocketing the pills and heading back to my car.

It doesn't take long to cross the city. Luna's house is a small, quaint place on a quiet street. It looks so normal, so untouched by the chaos of the past twenty-four-hours, that it's almost jarring. I use my lock-picking skills – a questionable but useful talent for a demon hunter – to let myself in.

The moment I step inside, I know something's wrong. The air is thick with an oppressive energy that makes my hunter instincts scream. The living room is a mess – furniture overturned, books scattered across the floor, picture frames smashed.

This isn't just a burglary. This is a vampire's handiwork. I can sense it.

I draw my blade. My footsteps are silent on the wooden floors as I navigate the chaos.

The kitchen is similarly ransacked, drawers pulled out and contents strewn about. But it's not just random destruction – there's a method to this madness. Whoever caused it was looking for something.

As I approach the bedroom, the vampiric energy intensifies. It's like walking through syrup, each step requiring more effort than the last. My heart pounds in my chest, blood rushing in my ears.

I used to hate this sensation. Now, I thrive on it.

I pause at the closed bedroom door, listening. There's no sound from within but that doesn't mean much with vampires. I take a deep breath, steeling myself, then slowly turn the knob.

The door creaks open, revealing Luna's bedroom bathed in shadows. The curtains are drawn, blocking out the sun. In the dim light, I can make out the same destruction as in the rest of the house – clothes thrown about, drawers emptied.

And there, sprawled across Luna's bed, is a vampire.

He's young or, at least, he was when he was turned. Couldn't be more than twenty.

I grip my blade tighter, weighing my options. I could end him now, quickly and quietly. But a dead vampire can't answer questions. And I want to know what the fuck he was looking for.

As I stand there, trying to decide whether to stake it or torture it, the vampire's eyes snap open. They lock onto mine, confusion quickly morphing into hunger.

"Well," he says, sitting up with inhuman speed, "this is unexpected."

I raise my blade. It is silver, and sharp enough to end him with one stab to the heart. "Who sent you here?"

He grins, revealing gleaming fangs. "Wouldn't you like to know, hunter?"

How do they always know I'm a hunter?

And then he lunges.

His speed is impressive, but I'm ready for him. I sidestep him, bringing my blade up in a swift arc. It catches him across the chest, drawing a hiss of pain and anger as his skin bubbles from contact with the silver.

We dance around the room. He's strong but sloppy. I use that to my advantage, letting him wear himself out with wild swings and lunges.

Finally, I see my opening. As he charges me again, I drop low and sweep his legs out from under him. He crashes to the floor, and before he can recover, I'm on him, pinning him down with my blade at his throat.

"Let's try this again," I growl, reaching out with my free hand to yank the curtains open. Sunlight floods the room, and the vampire screams as his exposed skin begins to smoke and blister.

I shift my position, allowing a beam of sunlight to fall directly on his face. He writhes in agony, trying to turn away, but I hold him still.

"What were you looking for?"

He doesn't answer, just writhes beneath me.

"Who sent you?" I demand, easing the sunlight off his face momentarily.

He pants, his eyes wild. "He will destroy you... all of you..."

"Who?" I press the blade harder against his throat. "Who sent you?"

Before he can answer, there's a blur of movement behind me. I whirl around, blade at the ready, but I'm not fast enough.

Another vampire, this one older and far more skilled, materializes in the room. Before I can react, he's driven a wooden stake through the heart of the vampire I was interrogating.

The young vampire crumbles to dust beneath me, and I leap to my feet. But the older vampire doesn't attack. Instead, he locks eyes with me.

"You'll get no answers here, hunter," he says, his voice gravelly and resigned.

And then he plunges the stake into his own heart.

In an instant, he too is nothing but a pile of ash on Luna's bedroom floor.

I stand there, blade still raised, heart pounding. Whatever's going on here, Luna is caught right in the middle of it.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I still don't know if I can trust that Thornfield wants to keep her safe but I have no choice; I need to tell him what I know because without him, she is definitely in danger.