Free The Darkest Kiss by Keri Arthur Page A

the door, then flexed my fingers and raised a hand to knock.
    That’s when I heard it. A soft, hair-on-the-back-of-the-neck-raising moan.
    The sort of moan that came from the dying.
    I stepped back, raised a foot, and kicked the door open. It smashed back against the wall, sending dust and plaster flying. The thick smell of wrongness and vampire rushed out, overwhelming my senses and making me want to gag. Or maybe that was a reaction to the sight before me.
    A naked man hung from a ceiling rafter—not from his neck but from rope around his wrists. Rope as bloody as his shredded back and butt.
    The man causing all the damage was the source of both the vampire scent and the wrongness. And his scent was one I recognized.
    “I told you—” he began, as he swung around, then stopped. His expression changed from one of annoyance to surprise, then, without the barest flicker in his bloodshot brown eyes to warn me, he turned and bolted for a doorway at the rear of the living room.
    I sprinted after him, the smell of blood, sweat, and fear heavy in my nostrils as I ran past the naked man. The wrong-smelling vamp had disappeared into what looked like a bedroom.
    I ran into the room just in time to see him leap for the window. Glass shattered, spraying outward into the night as he plunged through and down.
    The drop wouldn’t kill a vamp. It might damage him, but vamps were a resilient lot. Unfortunately, in this case.
    I cursed and spun around. I might be able to take a seagull’s shape, but hitting the ground from the height of a fourth-floor window would be a hell of a lot harder than hitting it from the top branches of a tree. And while I had flown briefly—and successfully—today, I didn’t feel like putting my life on the line to test out my new-found skills. As I ran past the bloodied and still-bound Ivan, I said, “He’s running. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    “Wait,” he said, voice hoarse. “Wait—”
    I didn’t. The vamps out in the corridor had drawn closer, perhaps lured by the sharper scent of blood.
    “Touch him and you all pay the price!” I dragged my badge out of my pocket again and thrust it in front of me. I didn’t know if it would actually help, and I couldn’t afford to hang around and find out. Not if I wanted to stop the vamp.
    Because a vamp willing to go to such extremes of torture before tasting his victim’s blood was a vamp who would not stop at just one victim.
    Once upon a time, I might have taken care of the living before chasing after the dead, but I’d learned the hard way that such actions generally only resulted in more deaths—and I had enough of those on my conscience right now.
    I just had to hope the vamps in this building feared the Directorate more than they wanted to taste Ivan’s blood.
    I pounded down the stairs and out the shattered glass doors. Even against the thick reek of vampire that clung to the night, the odd scent of my quarry was easy enough to pick up. I raced across the barren ground of what once might have been a playground, and out onto the street. The vamp was nowhere to be seen, but his scent pulled me on.
    “Sal, the vamp is on the run.” Headlights swept across the darkness, tearing away the shadows. The vamp became briefly visible—stringy hair flying, his legs almost a blur, arms pumping. “He’s about half a block ahead of me. If Talvin’s near, can you call him in as backup?”
    “Will do.”
    The car moved past, the headlights sweeping onto me. I threw up a hand to protect my eyes and kept on running. I was getting closer. Slowly but surely.
    He swung right into a side street. I reached for more speed, not wanting him out of my sight for long, and felt the twinge of protest in my bruised and battered leg muscles.
    I ran into the side street. The rich smell of barbequing meat filled the night, making my mouth water. The vampire was nowhere to be seen, but his lingering scent suggested he’d crossed the road and wasn’t that far ahead.