Her prey was so close .close...
A small crystal was tied to a leather band around Tamara Gilbert's wrist as she waited inside a small,, smoky bar in downtown Detroit. All around her,, people were drinking and shooting pool,, everything seemingly normal. But this bar was anything other than normal. For the last decade,, Detroit had become a haven for supernatural creatures like vampires,, werewolves,, shifters,, fae,, and even pixies.
Tamara played with the crystal as her eyes scanned the room again and again,, seeking out the creature she'd come to hunt: a werewolf named Antonio. For the last several nights,, he'd been biting humans and leaving a string of corpses along the riverbank. His bloody games were stopping tonight. She brushed a hand through her dark wavy hair,, smiling coyly at a man who was playing pool nearby. He shot her a wolfish grin in return,, but Tamara didn't let her gaze linger. She needed to appear friendly but not approachable,, at least not until Antonio arrived.
The crystal suddenly hummed in a soft vibration against her skin as a warning of approaching danger. The magic trapped in the gemstone burned,, getting her attention. It had been enchanted to warn her of Antonio's approach. Her breath quickened. Soon she'd be hunting. Her heart skipped a beat as a rush of adrenaline shot through her system. The effect was drugging—the heightened sensations,, the heady sense of power,, the knowledge that she had the advantage. A smile teased her lips,, and she bit them to hide her anticipation. She didn't like to kill,, but she took pride in knowing that she would destroy a threat to humanity tonight and save future lives.
As she leaned against the polished wood of the bar,, her nose crinkled with irritation. After tonight's mission,, she would have to wash her clothes at least twice to rid them of the smell of stale cigarettes. Eyes roving over the chaos of the crowd,, she took note of all the patrons,, their physical stance,, the placement of their hands,, and the location of each person in relation to the three exits in the bar.
The bar's door opened,, and a swath of pale moonlight cut through the orange—tinted lights filling the entrance. A tall,, broad—shouldered silhouette formed out of the tendrils of smoke,, like a sinister dream. It was all going according to plan.
Half an hour earlier,, she'd slipped down an alley off Jefferson Avenue and entered the infamous Walker Bar to wait for the very man who'd appeared in the doorway. She'd known he'd come this way,, just like she always knew where supernatural creatures would show up. Half instinct,, half tracking—it was all part of the job. Walker Bar was an easy guess. At the moment,, she knew the majority of the people around her weren't fully human. The air inside the downtown Detroit bar was hazy with smoke and pungent with cheap beer and even cheaper perfume. Black speakers hung from wood beams in the corners of the room,, emitting the strangled strains of hip—hop with pounding rhythmic thuds against Tamara's chest.
Tamara had a rare gift that had been passed down generation through generation. She was a hunter,, of the supernatural variety. It wasn't anything magical,, but rather instinctual. Anything she needed to do,, she could,, with practice,, patience,, and extensive physical and mental training. Patterns of small scars covered her body,, evidence of a life spent using her favorite talent—fighting. But first she had to put on a convincing show of a woman out on the town,, looking for a fun night. Tamara faced the bar again,, finally ready to order a drink.
"You about ready for a drink,, sweetheart?" The olive—skinned barman winked at her,, a wide grin splitting his face.
"Shot of whiskey,, pour till your fingers get wet." She turned back to the bar's occupants and waited for the man she hunted to come closer.
He moved deeper into the bar,, evil pouring off his body in nearly tangible waves that had her instincts screaming to fight.
"Showtime,," she muttered and faced the counter,, inhaling the shot of whiskey. The sudden burn cleared her head and prepared her for what she had to do.
She kept her gaze fixed on the mirror behind the counter,, gauging the new arrival. The figure moved fully into the light,, revealing a tall,, ebony—haired man,, with shadowed eyes that made midnight appear pale. Tamara tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned heavily against the wooden bar,, arching her back to display her healthy figure to advantage. She was definitely no twig,, but in her line of work,, she'd found vampires and werewolves appreciated a curvy body like hers. He moved in her general direction,, making his reflection easier to see.
She toyed with the empty shot glass,, rolling it between her hands,, all the while sensing the man's gaze on her. Knowing her prey's instincts was key. Werewolves were particularly drawn to aggressive women. It was probably because those women enjoyed the rough and primal sex werewolves preferred. She shifted her weight,, swaying her hips in a sensual thrust,, drawing him in like a bee to a blooming calla lily. In the mirror,, she saw his eyes fix on her ass,, and the flash of violent,, raw hunger that followed.
Definitely a werewolf. Tamara stroked one hand along her outer thigh as she drank another shot of whiskey,, drawing his attention to her legs. He stalked toward her,, the mirror revealing his close proximity at the same moment his warm breath fanned her neck. Swallowing her inner revulsion,, she focused her thoughts on a man she wished was in this werewolf's place. It was the only way she could stomach his touch.
"A drink for the lady." He signaled the barman for another shot of whiskey.
Tamara slid her empty glass away and looked him in the eye.
"Make it a double,," she told the bartender.
"My name's Antonio."
Her eyes met his black ones with a rival intensity. His chiseled jaw sharpened with the curve of his smile,, white teeth gleaming between his full lips. Tamara visualized him unbuttoning her tight blue jeans with an expert flick of his hand and brushing bare knuckles over her heated skin. She shivered with disgust,, knowing what she had to do.
"I'm Tamara." She kept her reply slightly disinterested.
"What on earth could drive a woman like you to drink in a place like this?" His voice was low,, gravelly,, rumbling across her skin and sending warnings skittering through her.
He was tall enough that when he rested one arm on the bar and leaned toward her,, she barely came up to his shoulders. Tamara lifted her second shot to her lips and tipped it back in one swift movement before flashing him a wicked grin.
"My bastard boyfriend cheated on me. So here I am,, in desperate need of company." She layered her remark with a faint taste of sarcasm. Tamara let her lashes fall to her cheeks,, then raised them slowly as she pretended to analyze his body with interest.
"Oh? Is that so?" His heavy—lidded gaze glimmered with rising lust. He casually caught one finger in her belt loop and tugged her against him. With a slow roll of his hips,, he showed her just how interested he was. And by the size of the bulge,, he was very interested.
"Hmm." Tamara chuckled dryly and plucked his finger out of her loop. "I'll need another drink before I'll even consider that." She looked back to the mirror.
