Free Broken Heart 09 Only Lycans Need Apply by Michele Bardsley Page A

quite capable with guns, but did not carry one on campus. Perhaps she would feel too tempted to use it on the college personnel.
    But a gun would not help Moira against a vampire, a fact she would know if she remembered what had happened in the desert. A paranormal being such as Karn would not find a gun much of a deterrent. Vampires were by and large derisive of weapons that were incapable of chopping off their heads. A bullet was a mere nuisance.
    I silently tracked Moira, pausing as I caught the scent of . . . parchment. Vampires smelled like old books in a library to werewolves. It was not unpleasant, but it was distinctive. I scanned the area.
    There, in the trees that lined the right side of the main parking lot, was a vampire. The red glow of his eyes gave him and his intentions away. Moira headed to her Mercedes. Just as she reached the driver’s-side door, the vampire sent out a wave of power that sizzled the parking lot lights.
    Moira paused and stiffened, obviously aware now that something was wrong.
    I moved toward the trees as swiftly as possible without giving myself away, but the vampire had scented me, too. The moment I knew he was waiting for me to come at him, I gave up stealth and went for speed.
    “Sorry, mate,” he said as I entered the trees, “the girl’s already mine.”
    “I found her first,” I said. Then I punched him in the throat.



Chapter 8
    Moira
    T he hairs rose on the back of my neck. I could hear the hushed sound of my own shallow breathing, and my heart went from erratic to spastic.
    For an odd moment, I had the terrible feeling that if I moved even the
slightest
bit, something big and scary would attack me. Fear was a stupid, irrational thing, and I knew it. But still I was frozen, my fingers trembling on the car door handle, my other hand clutching my tote.
    I heard a big, quick
swoosh
 . . . then . . . nothing.
    Silence enveloped me, and it felt thick and strange, like wet cotton had been stuffed into my ears.
    I took a breath and then whirled around, ready to swing my bag at an intruder—and let me tell you, that Theodora Monroe book added substantial heft.
    I was alone.
    The wind tickled at my hair, sudden and playful, as if it hadn’t abandoned me. Then the parking lot lights flickered back on.
    My heart rate, however, remained at a steady one thousand rpm.
    Because I was stubborn, I took a minute to study the area, to try and determine what had been behind me. I glanced up at the steady blue hue of the light, and made a mental note to get those damned things checked.
    Then I slid into my car, eased the tote onto the passenger seat, and carefully started the motor.
    By the time I reached the street that led to my house, my heart rate was normal and I could breathe again.
    I had no idea what had happened. Maybe reading about vampires before venturing out into the dark had messed with my mind.
    In any case, I had more important matters to worry about.
    Like what to wear.
    •   •   •
    I stood near the table laden with mini quiches, puff pastries, and prosciutto-wrapped melon. I held a champagne flute while I mulled over the selections, even though I’d already filled my plate four times. What? They were
tiny
plates. Every so often I would look at the open double doors that led into the ballroom.
    Where was Dove?
    She was never on time, but being late always made her arrival spectacular. Still, we were nearly two hours into the gala and Dove hadn’t showed. That wasn’t like her. Half an hour, yes. An hour, maybe. Two hours? Never. Sheesh. Had she tripped on those outrageous shoes and broken her neck?
    I slipped into a corner, pulled the cell out of my beaded wristlet, and called Dove. The phone rang and rang, and finally voice mail came on. “Apparently I didn’t want to talk to you,” she intoned. “Leave a message. If. You. Dare.”
    Oh, I dared.
    “Where are you? Are you okay?” I hissed into the receiver. Then I realized I sounded like worried