Chapter 3

The man that stood before the counter was six feet tall, about two hundred pounds of well-shaped and slightly bulging muscles, skin a little lighter than my own, shoulder length dark brown hair, dark eyes with a dark dusting of stubble on his face. He appeared relatively young, somewhere between twenty-one and twenty-six, and was quite handsome and seemed personable. Not bad for a vampire who has seen six centuries.

Not bad for a bastard bounty hunter and slim ball ex.

"What are you doing here?" I asked again, my voice cold and hard, like the blade I was itching to hold. An uncomfortable knot had formed in my stomach, making my regret that second glass of orange juice.

"Now, is that anyway to treat a client?" He'd changed his question but I didn't hesitate on my answer.

"It is if they aren't welcome here and you most certainly aren't."

"Don't tell me you're still upset about something that happened so long ago?" His voice was light and smooth, a touch of disbelief changing the statement to a question.

"Not so long ago to some. As I recall, you used me."

"I'm a Vampire, it's what I do," he said. That had been his excuse five years ago, too. I didn't like it any better now.

He'd gone by Jonathon Swift at the time. A friend and I had gone down to Florida as a college graduation treat when I met him. He'd lavished me with attention and small gifts, treating my like I was special, something I hadn't often been to anyone, and I'd loved it.

One night, he took me out to a really expensive, very popular club in Miami. It was a mixed club and the main attraction that night was a big orgy in the back; one of the conditions for entry was a date.

He talked me into participating, though I stipulated only he was allowed to enter my body. We'd been going hot and heavy for a while when he suddenly stopped and climbed off. Next thing I knew, he was cuffing some guy and telling him he was a bounty hunter come to take him away.

When I'd asked him what he was doing, he'd tossed some cash at me and thanked me for the good time and left.

I'd been so humiliated at being where I was and being used that I ran out of there in full panther form, ran all the way back to the place my friend and I were staying and refused to be human again until we were leaving. I called him later and he fed me that excuse.

I haven't had a relationship of any kind since.

"You're the reason there are still Vampire hunters," I told him. "It's creatures like you that give all us Supernaturals a bad name."

"And it's creatures like you that make my life harder," he shot back, "with your constant insistence on things like 'honor' and 'propriety'."

"I try. Now, what are you doing here?"

"I'm wounded. Is it so hard for you to believe I'd like to see you again?" he said dramatically.

"Yes."

"All right, fine. I'm chasing someone down in this area and I'm informing the various powers of my presence and intent." He sounded bored and leaned casually against the counter across from me, his blue silk suit rustling slightly, releasing another burst of scent that I tried really hard not to breathe in.

"Well, they're eating right now so I'd suggest coming back later." Like after I was gone.

"I'll wait."

"Suit yourself." My response was as close to careless as I could manage as I rounded the counter and set about straightening the store, rearranging the racks of clothes, straightening shoes and props restlessly.

I felt his gaze following me around as I worked, making me feel incredibly self-conscious. I tried my damnedest not to notice and or care about how I looked in my loose, old t-shirt and faded jean shorts, but it wasn't an easy task. I couldn't help remembering our relationship, my mind playing back over how fun and intense it had been. The sex had been great, of course, and I'd really felt special in his hands.

"Didn't you miss me at all?" he whispered in my ear, his hands grazing up and down my arms.

"No," I said after a moment, fighting the urge to lean into him and not entirely certain it was him causing the reaction. "I missed the man I thought you were. Jonathon was a good enough guy while he lasted." I took a step away from him, trying to collect myself. "You ruined your chances five years ago, when you left me there." I cocked my head to the side and turned back to him. "Say your piece and go, Andras Spencer. You're not welcome here."

I ducked behind the counter and grabbed my keys just as Aunt Gene and Aunt Annie came through the swinging doors to see what had kept me from eating with them. "I need to go," I told them, kissing each of them on the cheek before heading out the door, brushing past the Vampire without a backwards glance.

I pushed my poor Toyota as hard as I could, racing through traffic in my need to get home and hoping I wouldn't get pulled over for speeding. I was already half-shifted when I turned onto my driveway and was yanking off my clothes before my car completely stopped, tossing them everywhere as I ran for the trees.

Between one step and the next, I'd gone from half-human to full panther, my senses sharpening and body changing as my paws tore into the ground, propelling me faster and faster through the woods and into isolation. I let my primal side take over, forgetting for a while all my problems, all my worries, just focusing on enjoying the movement of my body.

I reveled in the way my muscles moved beneath my dappled black fur, the way animals scattered before me and the way the earth smelled to me, rich and green with growing things. I kept within pre-established boundaries, running laps until my breathing became labored and my muscles trembled.

When I finally started wearing down, I navigated to the pond that separated my property from Talon's, greedily drinking the cool water before going to lie in the shade. I'd been dozing for a little while when I noticed someone standing nearby.

"Good evening, my feline friend," Talon said quietly, the change in my breathing telling him I was awake. He came towards me, slow and casual, plopping down next to me, hands behind his head as he reclined back, his gaze briefly lighting on the trees overhead before he closed them.

I turned my large head so I could see him better. He was wearing nothing but shorts, the waistband of his boxers barely visible. I drank him in as he laid there, his nearly six-foot, dark tan frame stretched out on the grass, looking as comfortable as he would inside on a couch or I would be in my hammock.

He was very lean, his body entirely muscle that clung to the bone, making him seem small. His stomach had the faint outline of a six-pack, a dusting of dark hair traveling from his navel downwards, disappearing under his shorts. That was the only hair on his torso, leaving his chest bare and tantalizing, his slightly etched pecks stretching as he breathed.

His long, lean legs were shapely and only lightly dusted with hair, leading to what I knew was a very firm backside; I'd smacked it once playfully and nearly broke my hand.

His bare arms bulged when they were behind his head like they were now, though normally they only looked slightly toned, strong forearms leading to long, straight fingers.

A strong but well-defined neck sat perfectly on his shoulders as it gave way to his firm jaw, pale pink slightly puffy lips, smooth cheeks, straight nose and nice forehead, a slight widow's peak right in the center.

With his eyes closed, I could clearly see the dark circles that looked beautiful, like eye shadow artistically applied, making his dark lashes stand out. He could have been a model; I certainly would buy whatever he was selling, not that I'd tell him that.