The Hollows Series Books 1-4

I turned my back and shuffled up the stone stairs. Glancing across the road, I saw a curtain fall against the single lit window. Show’s over. Go to sleep, Keasley, I thought, tugging open the heavy door and slipping inside. Easing it shut, I slid the oiled dead bolt in place behind me, feeling better despite knowing most of the I.S.’ s assassins wouldn’t use a door. Fairies? Denon must be royally ticked.

Blowing wearily, I leaned back against the thick timbers, to shut out the coming morning. All I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. As I slowly crossed the empty sanctuary, the sound of soft jazz and Ivy’s voice raised in anger filtered out from the living room.

“Damn it, Kist,” I heard as I entered the dark kitchen. “If you don’t get your butt out of that chair right now, I’m going to sling you halfway to the sun.”

“Aw, lighten up, Tamwood. I’m not gonna do anything,” came a new voice. It was masculine, deep but with a hint of a whine, as if whomever it came from was indulged in almost everything. I paused to dump my used amulets into the pot of saltwater beside the refrigerator. They were still good, but I knew better than to leave active amulets lying around.

The music snapped off with a jarring suddenness. “Out,” Ivy said softly. “Now.”

“Ivy?” I called loudly, curiosity getting the better of me. Jenks said whoever it was had the all clear. Leaving my bag on the kitchen counter, I headed for the living room. My exhaustion spilled into a tinge of anger. We had never discussed it, but I assumed that until the price was off my head, we would try to keep a low profile.

“Ooooh,” the unseen Kist mocked. “She’s back.”

“Behave yourself,” Ivy threatened him as I entered the room. “Or I’ll have your hide.”

“Promise?”

I took three steps into the living room and jerked to a halt. My anger vanished, washed away in a surge of primal instinct. A leather-clad vamp sprawled in Ivy’s chair, looking like he belonged. His immaculate boots were on the coffee table, and Ivy shoved them off in disgust. She moved quicker than I’d ever seen before. She took two steps from him and fumed, her hip cocked and her arms crossed aggressively. The mantel clock ticked loudly.

Kist couldn’t be a dead vamp—he was on holy ground and it was almost sunup—but burn my britches if he didn’t come close. His feet hit the floor with an exaggerated slowness. The indolent look he gave me went right to my core, settling over me like a wet blanket to tighten my gut. And yeah, he was pretty. Dangerously so. My thoughts jerked back to Table 6.1, and I swallowed.

His face was lightly stubbled, giving him a rugged appearance. Straightening, he tossed his blond hair out of his eyes in a movement of artful grace that must have taken him years to perfect. His leather jacket was open to show a black cotton shirt pulled tight over an attractively muscled chest. Twin stud earrings glittered from one ear. The other had a single earring and a long-healed tear. Otherwise, he hadn’t a visible scar anywhere. I wondered if I would be able to feel them if I ran my finger down his neck.

My heart pounded, and I dropped my gaze, promising myself I wouldn’t look again. Ivy didn’t scare me as much as this one did. He moved on feral instinct, governed by whim.

“Aw,” Kist said, scooting himself up in the chair. “She’s cute. You should have told me she was such a dar-r-r-rling.” I felt him take a deep breath, as if tasting the night. “She reeks of you, Ivy love.” His voice dropped in pitch. “Isn’t that the sweetest?”

Cold, I clutched the collar of my coat closed and backed up until I was in the threshold.

“Rachel,” Ivy said dryly. “This is Kisten. He’s leaving. Aren’t you, Kist.”

It wasn’t a question, and my breath caught as he got to his feet with a fluid, animal grace. Kist stretched, his hands reaching for the ceiling. His lean body moved like a cord to show every gorgeous curve of muscle on him. I couldn’t look away. His arms fell and our eyes met. They were brown. His lips parted in a soft smile as he knew I had been watching him. His teeth were sharp like Ivy’s. He wasn’t a ghoul. He was a living vamp. I looked away even though living vamps couldn’t bespell the wary. “You have a taste for vamps, little witch?” he whispered.

His voice was like wind over water, and my knees went loose at the compulsion he put in it. “You can’t touch me,” I said, unable to resist looking at him as he tried to bespell me. My voice sounded like it was coming from inside my head. “I haven’t signed any papers.”

“No?” he whispered. His eyebrows were raised in sultry confidence. He eased close, his steps soundless. Heart pounding, I looked at the floor. I felt behind me to touch the doorframe. He was stronger than me, and faster. But a knee in the groin would drop him like any man.

“The courts won’t care,” he breathed as he drifted to a stop. “You’re already dead.”

My eyes widened as he reached for me. His scent washed over me, the musty scent of black earth. My pulse pounded, and I stepped forward. His hand cupped my chin, warm. A shock went through me, buckling my knees. He gripped my elbow, supporting me against his chest. Anticipation of an unknown promise made my blood race. I leaned into him, waiting. His lips parted. A whisper of words I couldn’t understand came from him, beautiful and dark.

“Kist!” Ivy shouted, startling both of us. A flash of ire filmed his eyes, then vanished.

My will flowed back with a painful swiftness. I tried to jerk away, finding myself held. I could smell blood. “Let go,” I said, almost panicking when he didn’t. “Let go!”

His hand dropped. He turned to Ivy, completely dismissing me. I fell back to the archway, shaking, but unable to voluntarily leave until I knew he was gone.

Kist stood before Ivy calm and collected, a study in opposites to Ivy’s agitation. “Ivy, love,” he persuaded. “Why do you torment yourself? Your scent covers her, but her blood still smells pure. How can you resist? She’s asking for it. She’s screaming for it. She’ll bitch and moan the first time, but she’ll thank you for it in the end.”

Expression going coy, he gently bit his lip. Crimson ran, wiped away with a slow, taunting, deliberate tongue. My breath sounded harsh even to me, and I held it.

Ivy went furious, her eyes going to black pits. The tension wouldn’t let me breathe. The crickets outside chirped faster. With an exaggerated slowness, Kist cautiously leaned toward Ivy. “If you don’t want to break her in,” he said, his voice low with anticipation, “give her to me. I’ll give her back to you.” His lips parted to show his glistening canines. “Scout’s honor.”

Ivy’s breath came in a quick pant. Her face was an unreal mix of lust and hatred. I could see her struggle to overcome her hunger, and I watched in a horrid fascination as it slowly vanished until only the hatred was left. “Get out,” she said, her voice husky and wavering.

Kist took a slow breath. The tension flowed out of him as he exhaled. I found I could breathe again. I took quick, shallow breaths as my gaze darted between them. It was over. Ivy had won. I was—safe?

“It’s stupid, Tamwood,” Kist said as he adjusted his black leather jacket in a careful show of ease. “A waste of a good span of darkness for something that doesn’t exist.”

With swift, abrupt steps, Ivy went to the back door. Sweat trickled down the small of my back as the breeze from her passage touched me. Cold morning air spilled in, displacing the blackness that seemed to have filled the room. “She’s mine,” Ivy said as if I wasn’t there. “She’s under my protection. What I do or don’t do with her is my business. You tell Piscary if I see one of his shadows at my church again, I’ll assume he’s making a bid of contention to what I hold. Ask him if he wants a war with me, Kist. You ask him that.”

Kist passed between Ivy and me, hesitating on the sill. “You can’t hide your hunger from her forever,” Kist said, and Ivy’s lips pressed together. “Once she sees, she’ll run, and she’ll be fair prey.” In a clock-tick he slumped, a bad-boy look softening his features. “Come back,” he cajoled with a sultry innocence. “I’m to tell you that you can have your old place again with only a minor concession. She’s just a witch. You don’t even know if she—”

“Out,” Ivy said, pointing at the morning.

Kist stepped through the door. “An offer shunned makes dire enemies.”

“An offer that really isn’t one shames the one who makes it.”

Shrugging, he pulled a leather cap from his back pocket and put it on. He glanced at me, his gaze going hungry. “Good-bye, love,” he whispered, and I shuddered as if he had run a slow hand across my cheek. I couldn’t tell if it was revulsion or desire. And he was gone.

Ivy slammed the door behind him. Moving with that same eerie grace, she crossed the living room and dropped into a chair. Her face was dark with anger, and I stared at her. Holy crap. I was living with a vampire. Nonpracticing or not, she was a vamp. What had Kist said? That Ivy was wasting her time? That I’d run when I saw her hunger? That I was hers? Shit.

Moving slowly, I edged backward out of the room. Ivy glanced up, and I froze. The anger drained from her face, replaced with what looked like alarm when she saw my fear.

Slowly, I blinked. My throat closed and I turned my back on her, going into the hallway.

“Rachel, wait,” she called after me, her voice cajoling. “I’m sorry about Kist. I didn’t invite him. He just showed up.”

I strode into the hall, tensed to explode if she put a hand on me. Was this why Ivy had quit with me? She couldn’t legally hunt me, but as Kist had said, the courts wouldn’t care.

“Rachel …”

She was right behind me, and I spun. My stomach tightened. Ivy took three steps back. They were so quick it was hard to tell she had moved. Her hands were raised in placation. Her brow was pinched in worry. My pulse hammered, giving me a headache. “What do you want?” I asked, half hoping she would lie and tell me it was a mistake. From outside came the noise of Kist’s bike. I stared at her as the sound of his departure faded.

“Nothing,” she said, her brown eyes earnestly fixed to mine. “Don’t listen to Kist. He’s just jerking you around. He flirts with what he can’t have.”

“That’s right!” I shouted so I wouldn’t start shaking. “I’m yours. That’s what you said, that I’m yours! I’m not anyone’s, Ivy! Stay the hell away from me!”

Her lips parted in surprise. “You heard that?”

“Of course I heard that!” I yelled. Anger overpowered my fear, and I took a step forward. “Is that what you’re really like?” I shouted, pointing to the unseen living room. “Like that—that animal? Is it? Are you hunting me, Ivy? Is this all about filling your gut with my blood? Does it taste better when you betray them? Does it?”

“No!” she exclaimed in distress. “Rachel, I—”

“You lied to me!” I shouted. “He bespelled me. You said a living vamp couldn’t do that unless I wanted him to. And I sure as hell didn’t!”

She said nothing, her tall shadow framed by the hallway. I could hear her breath and smell the sweet-sour tang of wet ash and redwood: our scents dangerously mingling. Her stance was tense, her very stillness sending a shock through me. Mouth dry, I backed up as I realized I was screaming at a vampire. The adrenaline spent itself. I felt nauseous and cold. “You lied to me,” I whispered, retreating into the kitchen. She had lied to me. Dad was right. Don’t trust anyone. I was getting my things and leaving.