"Security is coming! You let her go and get out. Get out!"

I opened my eyes and watched as Bian rushed toward us, picking up one of her wayward shoes only to throw it at Jessie again. She chased him down the hall and after that he was quietly kicked out of the Swan Inn.

But it's not like he went far.

The wedding he was here for happened yesterday, and I know it was a wild one. Andy told me the police were called twice to break up rowdy, drunken fights. And a man like Jessie Bates is never far from the center of trouble. If he just happens to go missing, I'm sure there will be plenty of suspects.

Normally, I don't hunt in my hometown.

But for Jessie Bates, I'll make an exception.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 2

Jessie Bates has no idea I'm about to suck him dry.

Ugh no. Not like that.

I'm going to kill Jessie Bates, and I'm going to enjoy it.

And I'm an excellent hunter. It's one of the few things you humans got right in your myths about us. We are the ultimate predators. Sneaky, stealthy, alluring when we want to be. We can stand out or we can blend in. We can be charming or we can be terrifying. We can be political agents or we can slip through society unnoticed. We are shapeshifters not because we change into other creatures, but because we change into other versions of ourselves. We adapt to what you need us to be in that moment, so that we can get exactly what we want from you.

Most everything else you believe about vampires is wrong.

Sunlight? Dude. Please.

Bats? Seriously? Do I look like the kind of girl to have a collection of sky mice? Hell no. I might be too cold to incubate rabies, but I don't want to douse myself in it either.

I don't sparkle, I don't sleep in a coffin, I don't live in a crypt. Garlic doesn't deter me and holy water doesn't burn me. In fact, enchanted water is exactly where my life as an immortal began. I'm pretty enough with thick black lashes and bright hazel eyes, long hair the color of melted chocolate and flawless olive skin. With a bit of makeup I can be a knockout, but why would I want you to remember my face in a crowd? It's in my best interest to be forgettable, particularly given my... history.

But I guess there are a few things you got right. Like my preternatural senses. And right now, all I can smell is that big hunk of sweaty, fleshy, frat boy man candy. Like I said, I don't usually hunt on my home turf. I don't like to draw attention to myself, and more than anything I want to keep trouble away from Bian's doorstep. But this time I can't help it. I'm just so hungry.

Any thought of repercussions drifts away on the breeze carrying Jessie's warm, musky scent. He just smells so divine.

I start humming a little tune.

At first, Jessie doesn't really notice. He keeps walking, past the closed shops, beneath the streetlights where the moths ping against the yellowed plastic. His gym bag is slung over his shoulder. He's checking his phone, his attention focused on the light of his little screen. I say a prayer of thanks that he isn't wearing headphones. Headphones are the bane of a siren's existence. Seriously, how in the fuck am I supposed to seduce my prey if they're always listening to their shitty playlist on Spotify or whatever-

Come on, focus. I'm so easily distracted when I'm hungry. I home in on Jessie's broad, mouth-watering back and start humming louder. I see the instant the sound finally registers in his peanut-sized brain. When Jessie's head tilts to the side and his pace slows, I start putting words to my tune. It's not so much what I sing, it's how I sing it. And I don't like the crusty old tunes of my people, songs about the sea and ancient ships and Odysseus, that crafty fucker.

I like a challenge.

I start singing some of the lyrics from WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion. It's a modern masterpiece and I will fight you if you say otherwise. And I can sing it sweet. So sweet it sounds like a church hymn.

I want you to park that big Mack truck

Right in this little garage

Make it cream, make me scream

Out in public, make a scene

I don't cook, I don't clean

But let me tell you how I got this ring...

Jessie slows to a near stop. He's entranced by my lilting soprano (told you so). I catch up with him and grab his hand, pulling him with me. I keep singing, swinging his hand in mine as though we're two high school lovers taking an evening stroll.

I lead Jessie toward the narrow alley between the Cheese Louise cheese store and Puptown dog grooming. The combined smell of cheese and dog is revolting. But Jessie doesn't mind. He follows me willingly. He's completely under my control. And I don't mind either, really. I'm just so fucking hungry that you could bathe a dog in cheese, wipe it on Jessie's thick neck, and I'd still bite down and call it heaven.

I pull Jessie away from the lamplight, into the shadow. I do prefer to hunt in the night, you humans did get that part of our tale correct. When we're far enough away from the empty sidewalk that I know we won't be seen, I stop and turn to face Jessie. His expression is wistful. His eyes are caught in the middle distance. His thoughts are far from me. It's a kindness that we vampires offer. Peace before death. What other creature can offer such a guarantee?

I gently push Jessie until his back is against the cold brick. It'll make it easier when his legs give out. Fuck, he's so tall. I usually pick smaller prey, but he was such a dick the other day at the Inn and I really feel like he deserves it. I'm just gonna have to climb him like a tree.

My canines elongate and I graze the tip of my tongue along the needled point. I taste the sweet venom. My stomach rumbles. I can only see the throbbing vein in Jessie's neck. I can only hear the beat of his heart. I grip onto his shoulders and haul myself up, inhaling his delicious combination of hangover sweat and cologne. I close my eyes and smile, then open my mouth and prepare to bite-

"Oh no you don't," a deep voice says behind me. A large and powerful hand grips my shoulder with unnatural strength and whirls me away from Jessie. My eyes land on the broad chest of a man. A black button-up shirt. Swirling smoke. A blade of silver and rippling fire in the hand not still clasped around my shoulder. Black tattoos snake up from under his collar, covering the side of his neck to the edge of his short dark hair. The pupils of his rich brown eyes are consumed with flame.

A Reaper. 

Holy fuck. 

Holy fucking fuck. 

Fuuuuuuuuck. 

This is it. This is how I die. Five thousand fucking years I've been alive, and I'm gonna die behind Cheese Louise.

They've found me. After all this time. They found me in fucking Sanford, of all places.

...fuck. 

The Reaper's gaze makes a slow path across my face as though memorizing every detail. He's probably savoring the moment. He probably wants to see the look in my eyes when he slips his sword between my ribs. He's about to be famous among his clan and the anticipation must be almost as great as the victory itself.

"Are you skilled with a blade?" he asks.

He wants me to... fight him? ... That's a little sadistic, considering he's, like, twice my size and he's a fucking Reaper. He's born to take immortal lives. I might be a great predator and all but a Reaper is hard to kill. Really hard. And I would know.

Still... I'll take any chance I can get, no matter how small.

I nod.

"Good," he says. He lifts his hand from my shoulder and withdraws a second silver sword from a scabbard strapped across his back. "Werewolves are coming. They've caught your scent. I'm here to reap the Alpha for the Crime of Abomination. Defend yourself."