Hunter Avenged (Forgotten Brotherhood) Page 2

  At least I won’t have to wear these shoes any longer.

  But she’d miss Dark Side. Skimpy outfit and killer heels aside, she’d been here longer than anywhere else, had gotten to know the people. Humans had always fascinated her, their lives short and filled with never-ending drama and emotion.

  “I need your help.” Marla grabbed her by the arm and tugged her toward the bar.

  “What’s wrong?” The other waitress was limping slightly. “Are you sick? Hurt?”

  “The damn heel on my shoe broke, and I have a big tipper in the VIP section waiting for a drink. Give me another sparkling water in a bottle,” she yelled to the bartender. “I have another pair in my locker, but I don’t want to leave him waiting.”

  Rivka’s head spun as she tried to follow Marla’s explanation.

  “Be a doll and take this up to him. Go right at the top of the stairs and it’s the last booth. You can’t miss him. He’s a big one, handsome in a rough way, if you know what I mean.” She fanned her hand in front of her face. “And he’s all alone.” She thrust the bottle at her as soon it was passed to her. Rivka automatically took it. “Thanks. I owe you,” Marla called as she disappeared toward the employee locker room.

  Left holding the bottle, literally, there was nothing else to do but deliver it. Propelled into motion, she hurried toward the staircase that led to the VIP area. Plastering a smile on her face, she set the bottle on the table. “Sorry for the delay. Marla was detained but will check on you shortly.” When she glanced up, the smile on her face died. Her mouth went dry.

  Icy blue eyes met hers. The club, the crowd, the entire world, dropped away, leaving only the two of them. Marla had been wrong. Handsome was too tame a word for this man. He was a force of nature. His aura, dark and murky, spread out around him like a cloak, smothering all light in its path. He wasn’t just big but huge. The booth seat seemed more like a chair, and one that wasn’t quite large enough. His blond hair shone in the dim light.

  She licked her lips, ignoring the heat that speared through her when his eyes followed her tongue. Unfamiliar sensations bombarded her. She was hot, then cold. Sweat popped out all over her. Her nipples tightened, pushing against her top.

  I’m aroused.

  It was inconceivable. She was an angel, beyond the temptations of the flesh. Or so she’d thought. She couldn’t blame it on being away from Heaven. It had been a few years since she’d been home, and it had never been a problem before.

  She was standing there like an idiot staring at him. To be fair, he was staring back. The corners of his mouth twitched. She held her breath, but he didn’t smile. She swallowed back her disappointment. His lips were the only softness on an otherwise harsh face. As she watched, they tightened.

  His jaw and cheekbones were chiseled, his forehead high. The short cut of his hair added to the austerity of his features. There was no gentleness to be found. The leather coat he wore added to the rough image, made him seem even more imposing. A chill raced down her spine. This man would be a relentless opponent. He also wasn’t human, but she couldn’t tell what he was.

  Time to leave.

  Face tight, she tried to smile, knew it must appear fake, but it was the best she could manage. “If there’s nothing else, I have to get back to my tables.”

  Her legs were shaky, her heart racing. This must be what a rabbit felt like when faced with a wolf. Running would be a mistake. He hadn’t moved a muscle, but the sense of being hunted was overwhelming.

  Hunted.

  You got this. You’ve gotten yourself out of tighter situations.

  The reassurance did nothing to calm her. Sweat rolled down her spine even as a chill raised goose bumps on her arms. Spinning around, she’d taken a single step when he wrapped his hand around her wrist, chaining her in place. Heat spread out from where he held her, sliding up her arm.

  “There is something else.” His deep voice slid inside her like hot fudge over ice cream, melting all resistance. It was startling to realize those were the first words he’d spoken. She’d done all the talking up until now.

  Just take his order and leave. “What do you want?” It was a point of pride that her voice was level. Inside she was trembling like a leaf; not all of it was due to fear. Her attraction to him was unwanted but undeniable. It rather took her by surprise.

  He rubbed his thumb over the pounding pulse in her wrist. The gentle action was at odds with the tension in his jaw.

  “Your name. I want your name.”

  Chapter Two

  Being this close to her was playing havoc with his senses.

  Her essence radiated around her, goodness and light. He wanted to bask in it, bathe in it. The brief touch earlier in the evening had only whetted his appetite. Confronting her here wasn’t smart, but he’d been unable to allow her to simply walk away.

  Up close, she was even lovelier than he’d thought. Her skin was smooth as porcelain, her green eyes vivid emeralds. Her short hair, high cheekbones, and slightly pointed chin gave her the appearance of a fairy princess. She might be an angel, but her lips were full and lush, the dark red lipstick making them more prominent.

  Tension threaded through him, followed by shock when his cock stirred. Over the long years of his life, the urge for sex had lessened until it had become more a biological function, a way to convince himself he was still alive. This was something else altogether. Rivka was already turning out to be dangerous in a way no other opponent had ever been.

  “What’s yours?” she shot back, glaring pointedly at his hand.

  It took more effort than it should have to release her. “Sven Knutson.”

  Her eyes widened. Had she expected him to evade? There was little likelihood she’d recognize it. On his other forays to this realm, he’d been known by quite a different name—Freya’s hunter. His days as an assassin for a Norse goddess were over. He was a different man now, but the hunter in him remained. That was a primal part of him, entwined with the fiber of his being.

  He waited and waited. “Well?”

  “I have to get back to work.” Turning on her heel, she staggered slightly, righted herself, and hurried away. She wasn’t quite running, but it was close. Her hips swayed with each step, the leather skirt riding up slightly.

  No doubt about it, he’d spooked her. He stood to follow her when Deacon stepped in front of him, eyes flashing red. When Deacon attempted to push into his mind, Sven mentally slammed him back. The big man jolted. The air in the club became charged as the two predators squared off.

  “It’s time for you to leave.”

  Sven noted several more vampires dressed in the club uniform moving into position around him. Rivka was at the bar staring up at the VIP section. When their gazes caught, she took a stumbling step back before whirling away and heading toward the employee room behind the bar.

  Fuck, she was going to bolt.

  Deacon blocked his path before he could follow. “You wanted me to leave. I’m going.”

  “Not until you tell me why you’re so interested in one of my girls.”

  Anger flashed through him like a lightning bolt. He curled his fingers inward to keep from ripping Deacon’s heart from his chest. The reaction was extreme and totally unlike him. He was calm, methodical, emotionless. Or he had been until Rivka.

  “Not your business.”

  “Everything that happens in this club is my business.”

  Time was slipping away. Each second he was delayed gave her a head start. He looked the vampire straight in the eyes. “This is Forgotten Brotherhood business.”

  Recognition flared as did suspicion. “A false claim could get a man killed.”

  “Call Maccus Fury if you have any doubts.”

  Deacon shook his head. “I don’t have a death wish.”

  Sven’s lips twitched. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”
For some reason, the leader of the Brotherhood had become not quite a friend, more a reluctant mentor. They’d both been betrayed and booted out of the only place they’d called home. It gave them something in common.

  “I’ll take your word for that.” Deacon signaled his men to stand down and stepped back. “I don’t know what she’s done, but Rivka hasn’t caused any trouble here.”

  The vampire’s defense of her made his stomach clench. “She’s a person of interest.” That’s as much as he needed to know. He brushed by, impatience eating at him.

  No one stopped him as he cut through the crowd and pushed open the door to the employee locker room. It was empty, her locker open. She was gone.

  He whirled around and stalked back to the hallway. She hadn’t left through the bar. No way would he have missed her. There was an emergency door at the far end. His strides widened, eating up the distance. He shoved it open and stepped out into the cool night.

  …

  Heart pounding, palms sweating, Rivka made her getaway. She’d managed to grab her purse and coat and make it out the emergency exit without Sven stopping her.

  What had she expected? That he’d leap over the railing of the VIP section in dramatic fashion and race after her? The idea of it made her snort. “You’re losing your mind.”

  Whatever Sven Knutson was—and it wasn’t an angel, demon, or vampire—he was dangerous. Her wrist throbbed where he’d touched her, the heat from his fingers lingered. The rise in her blood pressure wasn’t all due to fear.

  “Stupid,” she muttered. Her physical attraction to him was frying her brain cells, making her want to forgo all common sense. No man, no matter how gorgeous and compelling, was worth her life. And that’s what was on the line. She couldn’t forget for one second that there were angels searching everywhere for her.

  Going back to her miniscule apartment was risky. Sven had tracked her to her place of work. There was a high probability her apartment location had been compromised, too.

  She swallowed heavily and clutched her purse tighter. Everything she needed was in there—bank card, money, identification, and her journal. High heels and a short skirt weren’t ideal, but at least her sweater coat covered her decently.

  She was tired of running, of being unable to trust anyone, constantly looking over her shoulder. The last decent night’s sleep she’d had was nothing more than a vague memory. Not that she needed nearly as much rest as a human, but even an angel grew weary.

  Shielding herself from the eyes of angels and paranormals took a tremendous amount of effort. If she dropped her guard for even a split second, they’d find her. She glanced over her shoulder, both relieved and strangely disappointed when the door remained closed. Ignoring the churning in her stomach, she turned and hit something hard. “Oof.” She bounced back and her heel skidded.

  A male hand wrapped around her wrist. Unlike earlier, this one was hard and bruising. “What do we have here?”

  She blinked, groaning when she recognized the dark-haired man. It was the groper from earlier. Not only him, but his two buddies, too. “Excuse me.” She tugged, but he didn’t release her. “Let me go.”

  “No.” He yanked her forward, slamming her against his chest. “Think you’re too good for me, do you?” He grabbed her ass and squeezed hard. “Brush me off, will you? There are no bouncers around to protect you now, honey.”

  “Come on,” one of his buddies urged. “Leave her alone.” She shot the man a grateful smile, but the other one laughed. No help there.

  “You owe me for the ten dollars I slipped you.”

  “That was a tip.” What was it about guys like this who thought tipping a waitress gave them the right to demand personal favors?

  “It was payment and you know it. Chicks like you are alike. You strut around half naked, tempting a man, and then act like a fucking blushing virgin when a man wants to take you up on your offer.” His hand slipped under her skirt.

  Rivka’s knee shot up and nailed him right in the balls. Howling, he doubled over. There was danger behind her and in front of her, but the more immediate threat was here. She edged toward the club door, one step at a time, never taking her eyes off them. She dug a ten-dollar bill out of her purse and tossed it on the ground. “Here’s your tip back. We’re even.”

  The groper straightened, his eyes burning with anger and promised retribution. “We’re nowhere near even.”

  Abandoning all hopes of talking him down, she whirled around and ran right into a hard object. Once again, she bounced back. Strong arms caught her before she could fall.

  Head spinning, heart thundering, she looked up into a pair of cold blue eyes. She might have run from him, but right now he was her salvation.

  “Hey, man, hands off. I saw her first.”

  The guy had to be either drunk or stupid to challenge Sven and, since they’d had only three rounds—she’d served them so she knew—he couldn’t be drunk. Definitely stupid.

  “Are you hurt?” Ignoring him, Sven set her carefully back on her feet.

  Her teeth began to chatter. “I’m fine.” She couldn’t heal herself until she was alone. It took energy. That meant safeguards needed to be put in place first.

  He caught her hand and raised it. Even in the dim light the redness and bruising was visible. A tide of pure menace rolled across the lot like a dark fog enveloping everything in its path.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you.” His buddies had backed up, but the groper continued to advance.

  Sven pressed his lips against the pulse in her wrist. Her toes curled and heat radiated up her arm. It was the first time anyone had ever offered her comfort, for any reason.She blinked several times, not understanding what was going on. He was hunting her, wasn’t he? Why would he care if she were injured?

  Her attacker poked Sven in the arm. Shaking his head, Sven sighed, set her behind him, and faced the human.

  It was like watching an accident about to happen. Rivka couldn’t look away. She should take the opportunity to run, but her feet were glued to the spot. She’d always believed in love, had done her best to promote kindness and peace. Right now, though, not so much.

  …

  She’s safe. A sense of relief rolled through him.

  Not that he cared. Not really, but he did feel a sense a responsibility toward her. She was his prey. He was the one who’d pursued her for months, enjoying their game of cat and mouse, coming to respect her abilities and intelligence. Being face-to-face with her tonight, speaking to her, touching her, had only sweetened the chase.

  Only it was no longer a game.

  Smelling her fear, seeing it reflected in her beautiful eyes, brought back memories long buried of the night he’d died as a human child—terror, sweat, blood, and ultimately, death. His mother had sent him away with his younger siblings, giving up her life for them. They’d run but had been caught. He’d faced grown men, depraved and bloodthirsty ones who’d brutally slaughtered him and his siblings.

  It had happened more than fifteen hundred years ago, but it might as well have been yesterday. Bloodlust roared through him, a gift from his Viking ancestors.

  That he’d come for Rivka himself, had chased her around the world, was irrelevant. I should take her and go. Bringing unwanted attention to himself was dangerous, not only to himself but also to the Brotherhood. He’d always been stealthy, an unseen assassin, an executioner, a killer without a name, without conscience. Emotionless and heartless were two of the kinder insults that had been hurled his way.

  “Hey, man, this isn’t your business.” This guy just didn’t give up.

  Rather than argue, Sven grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off his feet. Choking, he kicked his feet in the air, his face turning red. He seemed shocked. Bullies often did when called to account for their misdeeds.

  “I’m calling the cops,” one of his buddies yelled.


  Swearing under his breath, he tossed the man at his friend. The two of them crashed together and tumbled to the ground. When the phone dropped, Sven slammed his size seventeen boot down on it, smashing it to pieces. “Take him and go. And if I were you, I wouldn’t come back to Dark Side again.” He jerked his head toward a camera discreetly mounted high on the wall. As if to acknowledge his words, a red dot suddenly flashed. “Management doesn’t like it when patrons harass the staff.”

  “Let’s go.” The sensible one helped his friends to their feet and dragged them toward the street.

  “I never knew there was a camera there.”

  Sven rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders. “And yet you came out that door into a dark lot.” The urge to shake her was almost overwhelming. “You put yourself in danger.”

  “The idea was to get away from danger.” She edged back toward the door.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” He stalked toward her.

  When she glanced toward the camera a white-hot anger flashed through him. His emotions were running amok, which was dangerous for both of them. He slammed them down and shoved a lid on them, embracing the cold nothingness that was familiar.

  “Don’t look to them to save you from me. They won’t interfere.”

  “Why not?” Her back hit the wall about five feet from the door. He kept going until he was right in front of her, blocking what little light there was.

  She pressed her lips together, her eyes flashing with defiance. Even with those ridiculous heels, he towered over her. She was slight and delicate, too fine for the likes of him. He ran the tips of his fingers over the curve of her jaw. Her skin was as soft as silk.