Free NIGHT PLEASURES by Sherrilyn Keynon Page A

Catholic.
    "Lights!" Amanda shouted as she realized he was driving in total darkness and his windows were tinted far past the legal limit. "Lights would be very good right now!"
    "Since they hurt my eyes to the point I can barely see, no they wouldn't. Trust me."
    "Trust you, my left foot," she snapped, using her free hand to hold on to the seat belt like a lifeline. "I'm not immortal over here."
    He laughed at that. "Yeah, well, in a bad enough car wreck, neither am I."
    Amanda gaped. "I really hate your sense of humor."
    His smile widened.
    They went speeding through the crowded
New Orleans streets, weaving in and out of lanes until she thought she'd be sick with fear. Not to mention a couple of times when she was sure her hand would be wrenched off by his movements.
    Swallowing, she did her best to keep her nausea at bay while she braced herself against the dash.
    A huge black Chevy pulled up beside them and tried to run them into a tractor-trailer. Grinding her teeth, Amanda bit back a scream.
    "Don't panic," Hunter said over the music as he cut the wheel to move underneath the semi. He gunned the engine. "I've done this a lot."
    Amanda couldn't breathe as they entered another lane where a red Firebird waited to try and ram them. The Dark-Hunter narrowly missed a parked car.
    Amanda's panic was so severe all she could do was gape. And pray. She did lots and lots of praying.
    By the time they reached the interstate, Amanda had seen her entire boring life flash before her eyes. And she didn't like what she saw.
    It was way too brief. There were a lot of things she wanted to do before she died—including getting her hands on Tabitha and beating the snot out of her.
    Suddenly, the black Chevy was back, trying to run them off the road. Hunter hit the brakes and jerked his car over. They skidded sideways.
    Her stomach lurched.
    "You know," Hunter said calmly. "I really hate Romans, but I have to say their descendants make one fine automobile."
    He shifted and accelerated again, flying past the Chevy. They jumped the median, drove across oncoming traffic, and went down an exit so fast that all she could see was a flashing blur of lights.
    The sounds of horns and screaming brakes filled her ears. It was followed by grinding metal and a loud pop and crunch as the Firebird full of Daimons hit the black Chevy. The Firebird drove the other car of Daimons into the retaining wall where it flipped over the traffic.
    Amanda still couldn't breathe as the Daimons' Chevy came to rest beside the highway without striking another car.
    Hunter actually whooped as he cut the wheel to turn the Lamborghini around in the street to face the opposite direction. He slammed on the brakes and took a look at the chaos they had left in their wake.
    Her entire body shaking, Amanda gaped.
    Hunter turned the radio off and smiled triumphantly. "And not a single mark on the Lamborghini. Ha! Eat steel, you soul-sucking bastards."
    Downshifting, he stomped the gas, turned a tight, squealing circle in the street, and headed back toward the Quarter.
    Amanda sat in stunned disbelief as she did her best to take long, deep, soothing breaths. "You actually enjoyed that, didn't you?"
    "Oh, hell yes. Did you see the look on their faces?" He laughed. "Man, I love this car."
    She looked up at the sky, and implored divine aid. "Dear God, please separate me from this maniac before I die of fright."
    "Oh, c'mon," he said, his voice teasing. "Don't tell me that didn't get your blood pumping."
    "Yes, yes, it did. In fact, my blood is pumping so fast that I'm not really sure why my heart hasn't exploded." She stared at him. "You are one crazy human being."
    The laughter died instantly. "I used to be, anyway."
    She swallowed at the hollowness of his voice. Without meaning to, she must have struck a nerve.
    Their mood subdued, Amanda gave him directions to Grace's bungalow off
St. Charles.
    A few minutes later, they pulled into the driveway behind Julian Alexander's black Range