Free Promises to Keep by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

head.
    She smiled and held out a hand gloved in white lace. He took it and kissed the back.
    Her smile felt good, like sunshine.
    He tried to remind himself that this woman was nuts, but part of that madness was
     a beautiful purity of thought. When she smiled, she emitted perfect joy. There was
     still sorrow like a quiet, deep pool in her mind, but she was determined to rise above
     it.
    He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her forever, protect her and cherish
     her and sculpt her and … These were not entirely his thoughts.
    He didn’t fight them, though. He had enough self-preservation not to sell himself
     into slavery or let her damage him, so he might as well enjoy her presence.
    “I wish I knew how to dance,” he said aloud. “If I did, I would ask you to join me.”
    “Sweetheart,” she purred in response.
    Don’t forget why you’re here
, he reminded himself.
    He debated broaching the subject of the shapeshifter with her, but something warned
     him off. Brina obviously didn’t like focusing on anyone besides Brina.
    He still wanted to dance with her.
    “Brina, exactly the lady I was looking for.”
    The voice that cut between them was connected to a mind that instantly made Jay’s
     proverbial hackles rise. There was something dark and calculating about it.
    “Oh … you came,” Brina answered, turning with a strong dash of irritation and a feigned
     smile.
    The new vampire wasn’t an artist, but there was something artistic about his spiderweb
     of a mind. Where Brina’s mind put out waves of color and emotion, this one’s mind
     was tightly woven, designed to be studied and approached, until Jay feared he would
     find himself ensnared.
    Despite the distaste reverberating in her mind, Brina greeted the newcomer warmly,
     stepping forward to put herself into his embrace. He kissed her cheeks before moving
     back. “I have your portrait,” she said. “It’s in the gallery now. I do hope you don’t
     need it until after the holiday is over? It’s—one of my best works this year, and
     I would hate to take it off display so soon.”
    The other vampire heard as well as Jay did the telltale hitch in her voice as she
     described one of her “best works,” but neither man challenged Brina on the untruth.
     Her best works had been destroyed by her own hands.
    “Far be it from me to deprive you of such a joy,” the other vampire replied.
    Liar!
Jay wanted to shout.
    He drew back mentally and tried to put a face to the mind.
    The vampire was dressed in a modern tuxedo. The shirt was a cream color that sat better
     against his burnt-sienna skin than classic white would have. His hair was long and
     dark, though it had been tied back out of the way.
    He looked at Jay, his mind clinically analyzing him in a way that was cool, cautious,
     and utterly unconcerned as he noticed the aura of a witch and the smell of a recently
     oiled blade in a leather sheath, and instantly deduced,
Hunter
.
    “And who is your companion?” the vampire asked Brina.
    “Oh,” Brina said. “This … Hmm, I’m not sure. But he’s pretty, isn’t he?”
    “My lovely lady, it looks like you have a companion better suited to dancing than
     I am, so I will leave you to that,” Jay half rambled, trying to take his leave of
     Brina gracefully, without attracting the further interest of this predator. Jay hadn’t
     studied all the collected sketches and photographs of known vampires as much as some
     of his kin had, but he was pretty sure he was looking at one of Midnight’s infamous
     trainers.
    He knows what I am
, Jay thought, forcing back the itch to try for a kill he knew was impossible.
He’s prepared. Even if he were alone, it would be a long shot
. Many had tried, but in Midnight’s entire history, there was no record of a hunter
     ever getting a knife into one of the trainers.
    “Don’t go!” Brina cried like a child at a tea party, grabbing Jay’s wrist before he
     could take more than a step.