The Ninja Vampire’s Girl

Michele Hauf

Coco Stevens has a taste for adventure—enough to risk stealing a halo from a Fallen angel to help her sister. But she never imagined her mission would land her in the arms of a scarred—but still dangerously sexy—vampire!

Zane is on his own quest to hunt a Fallen angel, and will do whatever it takes to win…including bite the interfering Coco. Even if it joins them by an erotic bond that warms both vampire and mortal's blood with desire…

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

One

London

I glided down the vast marble hallway, which was trimmed in gilded and plaster frieze, relieved to be away from the ballroom tucked amongst the wigs and damasks, satins and frockcoats. The party was to die for, the people gorgeous and the champagne and chocolate endless.

But I was not here for drink or flirtation.

Veering toward the lone ottoman, placed in the center of the grand hallway, I plunged onto the tufted velvet and turned onto my back. The tight corset squeezed my ribs but I liked the snuggly feeling. And it pushed up my breasts nicely, making me feel sensual and womanly.

Alençon lace at my elbows hung over my wrists, and I blew it aside to inspect the mehndi stained onto the palm of my hand. It was traditionally worn for weddings and celebrations, but I had hopes the sigils worked into the design would provide protection.

Scanning the three-story room with a vaulted ceiling that looked as if Michelangelo had set up a scaffold beneath, my eyes took in the elaborate gold frieze, gaudy paintings and portraits, and crystal chandeliers. So much artwork in this hall, it resembled something from the British Museum.

"It could be anywhere," I muttered, sliding my hand down the black satin corset.

The red damask bodice was sown to the corset, but the red ribbons tying down the front of the corset were for show. Too busy for my taste, but the whole costume worked for this adventure.

I did like adventure. Adventure was my middle name.

Along the ceiling, plaster angels had been worked into the cornices, but they were all pudgy cherubs. Nothing so bold and virile as what I had hopes to find.

A musical jingle sounded in the stillness. I tugged a cell phone out from the side of the corset where it nestled against my breast, and answered.

"Cassandra? Yes, I'm here at the party. No, haven't found it yet. You're sure Leonard Marshall has one?"

My sister shuffled papers on her end—that would be a sweet little flat in Berlin—while my eyes strayed over the painting of a grazing horse, and then to the more modern, and frankly, groovy canvas that featured bright-colored rings dancing over a black background.

"It's got to be there, Coco."

"Wait." I sat up, wincing as the corset dug into my ribs. "I think I found it. Talk to you soon, Caz."

Tucking away the phone, I approached the groovy canvas hung above the right corner of the doorway. I squinted discerningly. One ring on that painting was most definitely not like the others.

"Score."

There was enough fancy plasterwork and wood chair railing on the wall to facilitate a makeshift rock climber like in the gym I attended…okay, so I paid membership fees, but the last time I worked out was too long ago to remember.

Pushing aside the bothersome poufy skirts to reveal my legs, I fit my ballet flat above the baseboard plaster decoration, found finger-holds above a cherub's head and started to climb.

I'd left the hallway door open about a foot and the music from the ballroom—18th century harpsichord fused with techno thump—promised the revelers would party all night in celebration of Midsummer. I wasn't much for parties. My adventuring kept me pretty busy. And I could hardly think to celebrate when my sister was in trouble.

Securing my fingertips along the top of the door frame, I managed to boost up with my toes. The ring secured onto the canvas was a reach away.

My toe slipped on the satin hem of the dress. I slapped my free hand high, clasping the ring…and teetered backward into a freefall.

The woman landed in my arms, a flailing scatter of limbs and swishy satin. I caught her easily, her huge dress disguising her fey weight.

"It's not every day a bloke catches an angel," I said. "And looky here, this angel comes complete with halo."

She kicked and struggled so I let her stand and shuffle away. She shook the halo at me, prepared to spout some nasty reply, but she did not. Her jaw fell, and her bright green eyes fixed to my face.

"It's not polite to stare, love." I stroked my cheek. "It's just a scratch."

She summoned courtesy, and straightened her delicate shoulders. "Sorry. I, uh…" She held the halo before her, momentarily marveling over it, then quickly tucked it behind her back.

The corset cinched her breasts high and firm. I licked my lips. I could go for some of that.

"You going to share?" I queried, cautiously pacing toward her, while she stepped backward, away from the door. I reached out with my mind to touch hers. The persuasion innate to my kind would serve my means to success. "Hand it over, love."

"I'm not your love. Who are you? What do you want?"

"I want that pretty halo your daring adventure has earned you."

"Well, as you said, it was my daring adventure. That makes it mine. So bug off, creep. Er…I um…"

Her bright red lips parted. The hand holding the halo out of sight slid across her skirts, displaying the cheap-looking silver ring of ineffable metal.

I focused the persuasion. Just a little deeper…

Her long, dark lashes fluttered. Any moment now the halo would be mine.

"Wh-what are you doing to me?" She put up her free hand to block the unseen intrusion. "I can feel you trying to control—Are you a—Are you a vampire?"

Ouch. This woman was in the know. My persuasion scattered and dropped. She turned to run.

"Guess I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."

I beat her to the ottoman center of the hallway, and wrapped an arm about her shoulders as I landed on the big comfy island. Pulling her shoulders against my chest, I bent to sink my fangs into her juicy, thick jugular.

Blood oozed down my throat. Sweet mercy. When was the last time I'd sipped so fine a vintage? Mortals tended to be polluted with fast food and pharmaceuticals. This woman tasted pure, sweet and a little like chocolate. Delicious.

But I had a task to tend.

Reaching about with my free hand, I groped for the halo, but she flailed madly, and it was hard enough keeping her neck at my mouth.

A kick from beneath her fussy skirts proved ineffectual. I clamped my hand over her mouth just as she screamed. Her wide eyes did not look at me, but instead, over my shoulder.

The door behind us slammed against the wall.

We both turned to spy the hulking angel, with wrought-iron wings extended out thirty feet behind him, smack a fist into his palm.

"Bloody hell."

Two

I recognized the man with shoulders wider than an armored truck as an angel even before I saw the wings spread out behind him and creak like the black iron they resembled.

An angel's wings are forged from the materials of their innate skill—the craft they'd taught mortals after Falling, and had been punished for because supposedly the Arts had been sinful back then. This one must have been an ironsmith.

I clutched the halo until I thought surely my palm would bleed. My neck hurt. The vampire had torn his fangs from my vein when the angel walked in.

I had not expected to encounter a vampire tonight. Most especially, not a vampire sporting shocking white hair and a scar cutting from his forehead, through eyebrow and eye, and ending at his jaw. His scarred eye was cloudy white. Creepier than fangs, let me tell you.

But right now the vampire was the one thing standing between the growling angel and me, so I wasn't going to be picky about appearance. I tucked myself behind the ottoman just as a blade swung through the air.

Freaky appearance aside, the vampire was tall, lean and wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off sculpted muscles only seen in the movies. He was ripped, and yes, I had to slap a palm over my heart. Be still, pitter-pattering heart. Vampires are not sexy.

He swung some kind of chain that sported a nasty scythed blade on the end of it. And did he have the moves. Twirling it overhead in a whir of silver, he then slashed it down before him to detour the charging angel.

The vampire dropped to his back, rolled and came up with a slash of the blade that cut through the angel's thigh. Blue blood spattered the air.

Granny Stevens had taught Cassandra and I the lore on angels, so the blue blood didn't surprise me. But this was the first time I'd seen a real Fallen One in the so-called flesh. I wasn't about to shake its hand or offer to do lunch with it.

The Fallen wanted what I had.

Now I noticed the halo clutched to my chest glowed blue. "Damn." Blue meant one thing; it belonged to this particular angel.

I thrust out my hand, displaying the palm with the mehndi sigils on it. Not sure if it would work as a repellent but I wasn't going to take any chances in case my protector failed.

The vampire soared through the air and landed the ottoman with an oof! He flipped over backward, landing behind me on the floor, crouched and sported a ferocious sneer.

Then the bravery struck. And don’t ask me where it came from.

"I'll get it!"

I popped up and wielded the halo like a Frisbee—I had been Frisbee champion in twelfth grade. Just as I sent it soaring toward the angel's neck, the vampire landed on my back, slapping my arm down.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" he gasped hotly against my face.

"Don't worry, it's supposed to come back like a—"

"A bleedin' boomerang. Love, that only works for the original owner."

"Oh, no." Really? I don't think Granny ever told us that little detail.

"Duck!"

The vampire shoved me to the floor. I caught myself on palms and stomach, cell phone skittering across the hardwood. His body landed on top of mine, flattening me.

I heard the whooshing skim of the halo over our bodies, and saw it turn in the air at the opposite end of the hallway. It nicked a painting of naked nymphs and soared back toward the thrower. The angel caught the halo, gargled out a wicked chuckle and stomped out of the hall.

The vampire's fist beat the floor next to my face. "Damn it!"

"Sorry," I muttered and kicked at him to get off me. "I didn't know. I've got to go after it."

Grabbing my phone, I started toward the door, but my skirt caught on something and I went down, ungracefully landing on all fours.

The vampire released my skirt. Of all the—Blood puddled on the floor near my hand. Sitting up, I noticed the bleeding wounds on his back. The halo had cut through his shirt and sheered him from hip to shoulder.

"You're hurt!"

He snickered, and pushed up to kneel. Easing back his wounded shoulder, he winced. "Guess I've you to thank for losing both the trophy and my skin. What's your name, love? So I can burn it from my memory. No, wait. No name will suffice."

"Coco," I blurted. Screw him for blaming me for his inability to dodge low enough.

Oh, Coco. He saved you!

"Coco. As in Chanel?"

"No, as in Rococo. My parents had a thing for Louis the Fifteenth. Now, I'd love to stick around and chat, but I have a halo to go after."

The bird had spunk. I liked that. But she wasn't going to cock up the nab for me again. I'd been so close!

"You're not going anywhere." I coiled up the chain.

"It's my halo!"

"Yeah?" Pretty, the way she held her tiny fists like that. It would be too easy for an angel to break her. "Fine. I don't need the halo, but I do need the angel attached to said halo. I almost had him."

"Oh, right, I noticed you had him when you were dodging the halo from hell."

I gave her the mongoose eye; it wasn't quite evil, mostly admonishing with a trim of evil.

Hooking the chain at my hip, I slicked the blue blood off the blade. Nasty stuff, that. I had no desire to taste it because I liked all my bits the way they were currently configured. Vampire drinks angel blood? Kaboom!

On the other hand, the blood from a Nephilim…

"What are you?" She followed as I stomped out of the hall, veering away from the ridiculous music. "Some kind of ninja vampire?"

How did she—Right. I'd forgotten about the bite. I was in too much pain to care about such a tasty lick right now. I'd just had half my back flayed off, no thanks to her.

The side of her neck bled, and she was tripping on her torn skirt, but she managed to keep up with me as I angled toward a door I knew opened onto a private alley.

"Name's Zane," I offered. "No ninja blood in me." Not lately, anyway.

I kicked open the door, ignoring her stupid quest to follow.

"Wait!" She managed to catch up and shoved me. Hard. "Sorry," she offered, rubbing my blood off on her red skirts. She'd slapped me firmly on the abraded flesh, which was only half-healed.

"No problem, love. Hurt me all you like. I favor the rough stuff."

"I'm going with you," she said in an unsure voice that belonged home polishing furniture and cooking up dinners, all with a bouffant and manicure.

"You are not."

I let my eyes roam over her ridiculous attire. Hardly angel-tracking wear. And yet the fantasy of pushing up those skirts and kneeling beneath them to lick her until she moaned popped into my dirty little brain. I'd tasted her once. I did favor sweets.

Coco held up a finger to request my pause. I almost turned away, but the tearing seams proved more tantalizing than tracking the angel blood spotting the blacktop.

She tore away the red bodice from the sexy black corset. Ripping methodically, she removed the skirt, beneath which she wore slim-fitted black leggings. "Besides," she said, "I have information you need. I know where the muse lives."

I tilted a nod of appreciation, both for her attire—from 18th century princess to sexy, modern cat burglar—and her knowledge. Then I slammed her against the wall.

Pressing her shoulders back, I moved in. Hip to hip. Chest to oh-so-luscious chest. "I've changed my mind about you, Coco. I like you."

"Is it my sparkling personality or my knowledge about the muse?"

"Actually, it's your gorgeous tits and sweet blood. I haven't tasted anything so smooth since that bottle of 1870 whiskey that went down in one night. Do you know you taste like chocolate?"

"Really? Must have been the mousse I snagged from the buffet earlier. Okay, so I went back for seconds. Sue me. You're very close—"

I lunged to bite again, but her palm smacked my mouth hard. Ouch, that hurt the fangs!

"Not so fast, vampire. You want to get all up close and personal? The fangs gotta stay out of sight."

"Is that so?" I hooked my fingers behind the corset, between the tempting warmth of her breasts, and tugged her closer. "Fine."

She didn't expect the kiss. Hell, I hadn't expected it, either. But it was as unavoidable as a bomb ticking down the last two seconds.

I crushed her lips, bruising them with the frustration of having lost the halo. How dare she steal from me? Miss Coco in her sexy corset and chocolate-mousse kisses. Lips covering my teeth, I sucked in her lower lip. Her body melded to mine, matching curves to hard planes.

And then I pressed a soft kiss to her mouth because she demanded it with a whimper. That wanting sound seeped through my pores and shocked my system with some kind of persuasion I'd never been privy to. Vamps can't be persuaded. And yet…

I surrender, precious mortal. What do you want from me?

Three

I had never kissed a man like this before. Standing in a dark alley, outside a fabulous estate, having purloined a valued object from a hideous modern artwork. Bodies crushed to one another in subtle desperation. Fingers moved over clothing, seeking the warmth of flesh, the promise of connection. Breaths inhaled. Mouths dancing. Teeth daring.

He thought he was forcing himself on me, the ineffectual little halo thief who had fallen into his arms. But I liked his powerful manner, his aggressive stance. His macho threat to control. This man—this vampire.

Wait.

I shoved him from my mouth. He winced and shook his head. A smirk revealed sexy white teeth—and fangs.

"You bit me!" I protested.

"Right, love, thanks for reminding me. I almost forgot that I didn't take time to seal the wound. Don't want you vamping out before the next full moon. Better fix that."

The intrusion of his fangs in my neck hurt because he sunk them into the previous bite marks. I nudged up my knee, hoping to hit the family jewels, because this time his aggression was real, and not a play at romance.

I thought the vampire's kiss was supposed to be so sexy, so erotic, so…

My arms dropped at my sides. As did my apprehensions.

Okay, so maybe there was something to this being bitten thing. My body hummed. I could feel the blood gush through my system, pricking at my nerve endings with a soft, sensual zing. All parts of me grew warm and tingly. Was that a moan? Oh, yes, that felt so…right. I pressed my legs together because I felt it in my loins. That sweet, sensitive spot felt as though he were tracing it with his tongue.

Oh, mercy…

Zane stopped sucking at my neck and dragged his tongue over the punctures. "Whew! Your blood makes a guy wish he could fall in love."

He stepped back, shaking his fingers out at his sides and bouncing a bit.

I exhaled, lost in a heady spin of sensations. Tentatively, I touched the twin wounds. "You can't?"

Cocky now, he swaggered up to me and whispered aside my ear. "Monsters don't get to fall in love."

"Maybe I like monsters." Yikes. Where had that weird confession come from?

I trailed my fingertips down his face, aside the nasty scar. I wanted to ask him about it, but really I wanted to get to the climax his bite had almost brought me to.

I lunged in for another kiss. His arms didn't wrap about my hips, instead I sensed he held them up as if being robbed.

"I'm not going to steal from you," I murmured against his firm lips. They were beautiful, made for my mouth. So I kissed them again. And again. And I dashed my tongue inside to trace his lower teeth, but daren't flick it up for fear of his sharp fangs.

"Whoa, love." He pressed me against the wall, but did not hold me there with his body. "You're acting kind of silly now."

I teased a fingertip at the corner of my mouth. "It's called flirting."

"It's called the swoon. You get giddy from my bite. Orgasmic, even."

"Not quite. I need more giddy."

Encircling his neck with my arms, I rubbed up against him, angry that the stupid corset was so rigid and while I could feel his taut muscles, he probably couldn't feel how hard my nipples were. Oh, but they ached for his tongue.

Now he kissed me, and this time it was deep and lingering and laced with our throaty moans. I hooked a leg up along his hip and he lifted, holding me there, so strong, so dominant. I devoured what he gave me. A stolen sigh. A pulse of muscle against my thigh. A desirous moan in his deep, British tones.

"There's no time to waste," he said against my mouth. "We find the angel, and I promise we will finish what we started here. But you gotta take me to the muse's home, love. You don't want the angel to beat us there, do you?"

Shocked out of the giddy, I nodded. "Right. Must protect the muse."

Man, the guy had some kind of powerful pheromones. I wobbled, and pressed a hand to the brick wall so he wouldn't think I was drunk.

Deep breath, Coco. Ahh…

"That way. About ten blocks."

Twice now I'd sipped from Coco. She was sweeter than I remembered cocoa being, and I did remember it. I'd only been vamp about ten years. Hot chocolate had once been a favorite drink. Her skin was the same color—cocoa satin—and it begged to be licked.

What the hell was I doing, allowing this bird to accompany me on what could prove the most dangerous encounter I'd had in years? Though it had healed, my back still ached. New scars always did pull a bit. I knew it would scar permanently. Wasn't like a normal injury that would heal up with fresh skin. That halo was divine—it left an indelible mark. And while religious objects could fatally wound baptized vampires, I had not been baptized, which I was thankful for right now.

I had my own divine weapon, and I wished I didn't have to use it up close and personal. Thanks, Coco, for tossing the angel the halo.

Ah, well, it made for a more interesting evening.

"So how's a pretty bird like you know about muses and angels and vampires?" I prompted as she strode down a cobbled street beside me. This neighborhood in Bayswater was ritzy, but a man didn't have to walk far to hit a scruffy spot.

"My sister is a muse." Her voice was unnaturally bubbly. She shouldn't be so enthusiastic about this adventure. And when she slipped her hand in mine, I almost jerked it free, because I did not do Sunday walks in the park.

I clasped her fingers. It wasn't Sunday, and we weren't headed toward a park, that was sure.

"Granny told us all about muses and the Fallen. We didn't learn about the vampires' involvement until recently. Oh, hell."

She stopped abruptly, tugging her hand from mine as if it were coated with acid. "Are you…? What was the name of that tribe…?"

I cocked my head to the side, marveling over the dimple that formed at the corner of her eye when she squinted in thought. A bloke could lose himself in that sweet spot.

"Anakim?" I suggested.

"You are?" She looked about for escape, so I grabbed her shoulders, and forced her to see me with a trace of persuasion to calm her panic. "But that makes you—"

"I didn't say I was Anakim, love. And I'm not going to say. I'm just Zane."

"The ninja vampire?" Her nervous, yet hopeful smile beamed through my chest and warmed my heart. Silly girl, I'd meant it about us monsters.

"Right, the ninja vampire." It sounded like I should be sporting tights and pow-banging my way through a comic book. I was not ninja, but why spoil the fun? "So you're trying to get this halo for your sister?"

"Yes. She may be able to use it as a weapon against the Fallen, should one come for her."

Fallen angels were attracted to a muse, one particular mortal female matched to one particular angel. The Fallen had sex with the muse—usually not consensual—in hopes of creating Nephilim progeny.

And a whole lot of nothing good happened after that.

"I don't think the halo works as an effective weapon unless wielded by a Fallen," I said.

"Maybe. It's worth a try, though," she said. "And it gives hope."

"The halo? Hope seems a flimsy weapon, you ask me."

"You of so little faith."

"You got that right. Lacking faith has kept this vampire in one piece, let me tell you." I absently stroked the scar dashing my cheek.

"We're here."

I scanned up the apartment building, following Coco's gesture to the second floor. All the windows were dark, but then, it was after midnight.

"I'll go up and have a look-see."

She grabbed my arm, holding me back. "You're not going to trick me, are you? Take the halo and run?"

"If the halo is up there, that means the angel is as well. I only need the halo to attract the angel," I said. "After that, it's yours."

"Oh."

"Surprised I don't have plans to go all evil-bloodsucker on you?"

She shrugged.

Yeah, she was surprised.

Four

The vampire walking toward me had the sexiest stride. A bit of a swagger, his arms gliding sinuously at his sides, but sleek, lean edges that could blend into the shadows and emerge to wrap about you like a dream come to life.

Oh, hell, Coco, what are you thinking? I was not letting this guy get under my skin. He's a vampire.

I prided myself on free thinking, being non-judgmental, “love your neighbor and peace to the world,” and all that jazz. Born a mix of British, African-American and French, race never registered on my radar. Wasn't vampirism just another race?

And really? He'd already gotten under my skin and into my veins. Too late to turn back now.

"She's dead," he said curtly, shoving his hands in his pockets and paralleling me.

"The angel has already been here?"

"No, I mean dead, as in cancer or some such. Her flat was empty. Talked to a neighbor in his PJs who said she spent the last three months in the hospital. Her death was completely unrelated to being a muse. So now we've an angel, armed with his halo, stalking the streets of London in search of another muse."

"Oh, my God. My sister!"

"She lives in town?"

"No, Berlin, but she could be in danger. Can't angels like fly or walk the world swiftly?"

"No flight, but indeed they do that fast-walking bit that tends to impress me, despite their nasty nature."

I tugged out the cell phone and tapped in Cassandra's number.

Zane leaned against a street post, ankles crossed and eyes taking in the surroundings like a panther on the prowl.

When had that scar become sexy? It cut over his dark brow and right through that funny-looking white eye, then tore through a high cheekbone GQ models would have killed for. I wanted to touch it, trace it softly, maybe even dash my tongue over it, instilling a hint of kindness where he'd only felt rage. I didn't think vampires could scar—

"Cassandra? You okay?"

I explained to her we'd lost the halo, and didn't mention my accomplice happened to drink my blood twice already. She did not want me to come to her, but I insisted. I'd book the next flight to Berlin.

"Why are you defying your sister?" Zane asked, as I started down the street toward an Underground station where I could take a subway to my flat, pack and catch a cab to the airport. "There's nothing you can do without the halo. You're not an angel slayer, love."

"Nor are you!"

He flinched, but shook out his shoulders and gave an abrupt twist of his neck.

"Right, then. So I guess this is where we part ways."

Seriously? He could walk away from me like that? Without another kiss? Without even asking for my phone number?

Coco, you are not falling in love with this guy!

No, I was not, but serious like was very probable.

He grabbed my arm and tugged me into the shadows. Before I could protest his insistent need for the rough stuff, I followed his gesture, pointing down the street. I recognized the hulking frame and the menacing air.

"Gotcha," Zane whispered. "The angel comes to us."

And like that the sky opened up and doused us with rain.

It was more than rain, it was Noah's bloody flood pouring from the heavens. I grabbed Coco's arm and hustled her across the street to find refuge under the tin overhang of a sweet shop. But I wasn't about to lose the angel this time. She followed as I tracked around the corner and spied the angel entering a warehouse.

I could go in, kill the bastard and take what I needed. But he was armed with a deadly weapon, and me and my aching backside were a little skittish of that damned halo.

"We're going to wait it out," I decided, shrugging a shoulder that tugged at my scarred back.

We slunk along the shadows and the opposite buildings, until I found an abandoned warehouse across the street. The second floor provided vantage of the angel's hiding spot. I spied the tiny blue glow from the halo.

"He's not going anywhere," I reported.

Coco sighted in on the halo. "Why not?"

"Your granny didn't teach you that angels don't like water? They can drown in less than four inches."

"I don't understand. Why don't they just fly off?"

"I told you, the Fallen cannot fly. It's something to do with Noah's flood. First time God wiped them from the earth in punishment for Falling was with the great flood."

"Wow." She leaned against a Sheetrock wall, punched out in places and scrawled with graffiti. "You're all up on your biblical lore. I wouldn't have expected—"

"That a monster would have such knowledge? I haven't always been a vampire, love." I squatted to the side of the window so the angel wouldn't spy me.

"Ninja first, then vampire?" she inquired, and knelt before me. Her knowing smile let me know she was in on the ninja joke.

I was uncomfortable with her being so close. But why? We'd already kissed and groped. Hell, I'd been inside her thick vein, had penetrated her so intimately. It doesn't get much better than that.

Very well, it could…

Thunder rumbled across the rooftops, but she held my gaze, unflinching. She was either very brave, or too stupid to know her own peril.

And look at me. Peril? Sod me, but I wanted the woman, naked and moaning beneath me. The only peril that involved was that of the—No, I wasn't going there. Not some bollocks about the heart and all that love mush.

"Tell me about this." She stroked my cheek over the scar tissue.

I jerked away from her tenderness. "No."

"Fine. You know you're not a monster, right?"

Oh, the poor beguiled little bird.

"What part of bloodsucking fiend does not resemble monster-ish to you?"

"The part where you care enough about a stranger to protect her. I'm not sure why you're after the angel, but I sense that's not so evil, either."

I blew out a breath, not sure how to reply. She had me pegged wrong. Guess it was up to me to set her straight.

"Monsters attack innocent women in alleyways and leave their necks torn open, the carotid spurting until they die. That monster, when he saw me approaching to see if the woman needed help, turned on me and did the same. Except, I survived."

I tilted my head at her. "So you see? I'm from sturdy monster stock. It doesn't get much worse than taking life from others to sustain your own."

"You don't kill." She insinuated herself upon my lap with an ease I wouldn't have managed even with persuasion. "I know you don't."

I'd killed many while serving the British SAS only a decade earlier. But that was neither here nor there.

Her touch along my brow was too gentle. I wanted to drown in the tenderness, just…surrender to what I desperately wanted. It had been a long time since this monster had experienced such intimacy.

"Sounds like the storm is a doozy," she said. "We're going to be here a while. So let's make out."

"Er…okay, love."

I let her kiss me because she was right. The angel was trapped until the storm let up. And I wasn't much for standing stakeout, staring across the way at our prey for endless, spine-breaking hours. Had to pass the time somehow…

"Wait." I pushed her from my mouth, regretting the loss of her warm neediness. "I get it. Tough guy shoves you around a bit, bites you and treats you badly. You're chasing the bad-boy fantasy, eh?"

"If that's how you want to call it." The twinkle in her green eyes told me she wasn't that stupid, and was also smart enough to play along with me to get what she wanted. Apparently, what she wanted was me.

That was a bit of all right.

Oh, but she knew how to give a kiss. And me sitting there, drowning in her sensual taste, the press of our bodies, the happy wonder of her—"Wait."

She sat back with a frustrated sigh.

"Can't do it," I muttered. A lie. What was up with that? Free kisses and all the other good stuff that would follow? What kind of sod was I to refuse?

"Why not?" She toyed a finger along the curve of her cocoa-and-cream breast. Pouty lips teased my defenses. "Am I doing it wrong?"

"No." Don't pout those kiss-bruised lips. Just…ah, bollocks. Must. Resist.

"Don't I appeal to you?"

"You do. But, love—"

"I have bad breath, or something?"

"I'll bite you," I snapped out. It was a good excuse, not necessarily true, but it should serve.

"Don't you need my permission to bite me? How did you manage that without first asking me—"

Glass shattered, and a disk of blue light sheered the soft dark hair tufting Coco's ear. I grabbed her against my chest. A drop of blood hit my forehead. She'd been nicked; the top of her ear bled.

The halo circled around and soared back through the broken window at supersonic speed.

"He's spotted us." I shoved Coco to the floor. "Stay down."

Five

Again the halo burst through a window, spinning like an insane 33 1/3 rpm flung off the turntable. It reached the back of the warehouse, and spun out through the window.

Zane lunged a look through the window, and managed to dodge the return path of the deadly thing.

Now I got it. Granny had told my sister and I that the halo always returned to the thrower. She'd forgotten to mention the part that the thrower must be the original owner. We wouldn't be in this situation if I'd known that.

My ear burned but I resisted touching it. I didn't want to know how badly I'd been hurt, but suspected it was just a nick.

I shuffled against a wall, my hand slipping on the bits of crumbled Sheetrock and rubble. I wasn't about to get in the way. I had a ninja vampire to protect me.

A flash of silver caught my attention. The vampire swung the chain at his side, the brilliant blade catching the moonlight like a beacon. It had something to do with the scar on his face, I guessed. A battle prize won for the price of a devastating wound?

"Watch out, love!"

I ducked to the floor, grinning ear to ear, because I foolishly believed he meant it when he called me love. It was an endearment, nothing more. I think the heady rush of danger, adrenaline and blood loss was making me a little loopy. If not fatally attracted to the baddest of the bad.

Another window crashed. Glass shards rained over my back. The chain swooshed overhead. And the clink of metal against metal. He'd snagged the halo!

I wanted to jump up and hug him, slobber him with kisses and congratulate him on being the hero—

"Don't move," he commanded.

—or not.

His boots cracked over the glass. His fingers moved over my back, carefully removing the shards and brushing through my hair and over my skin. "Okay, you can stand now."

"You got it." I hugged him, and he allowed it. It wasn't a return hug, I knew that much. He was just letting it happen. He really believed the monster bit. Poor guy. "You got what you wanted."

He sighed, and pushed me from his embrace. "Not quite yet."

We eyed the warehouse through the insistent downpour. The angel stood at the broken window. Zane waved the halo mockingly, which earned us a nasty gesture I didn't think angels were allowed to perform.

Noting my surprise, Zane said, "The Fallen are not like the angels you believe in, love. Nothing fluffy or divine about them. This is yours." He handed me the halo. "Now that he's without a weapon, I can go after him."

He swung up the chain and grabbed the blade. "Got this pretty slicer from a Sinistari demon. The tip is coated in some kind of angel poison. It's the only thing that'll kill a Fallen. Gotta shove it up into his glass heart, though, which means I'll have to get real close. Wish me luck."

"Wait." I leaned in and kissed the scar cutting his cheek. "It's from the blade, right? You went up against a Sinistari?" Granny had told us they are a breed of demons forged specifically to slay the Fallen. "I don't understand. Why do you need this angel dead?"

"Doesn't matter what angel, as long as it's dead." He huffed out a sigh. "Do we need to do this now?"

The rain beat relentlessly. The angel across the street wasn't going anywhere.

"Yes, now."

Why was this bird making it so difficult to like her? She wanted too much. We'd just met. Hell, we were soon to part. I didn't do attachment. It wasn't easy when one needed to snack on their partner every once in a while. Made for mistrust and fear, and that's never good for a relationship.

"You are Anakim," she said. "They're the vampire tribe after the angels right now. They think if they can capture a Nephilim, they can drink its blood and strengthen their bloodline. Make it so they can walk in the day like most other vampires."

"You know your stuff," I said, stalling, shaking the chain loosely in my grip. The blade banged my leg above the combat boots.

I noticed a fine line of crimson at the corner of her eye and my instincts put me up close to her before I had even decided to move. I tongued the cut. She sighed and bent into my embrace. Giving. Wanting. So vulnerable.

Had my persuasion taken away her free will? I hadn't used that much on her earlier, and I certainly hadn’t used any right now.

"I like you, Zane," she said, her fingers finding the vein on my throat and holding over my pulse. "I want to know you."

"It's the persuasion. Nothing but."

She gut-punched me. I doubled at the surprising force of her right hook pummeling below the kidney. Mother of—

"You call that persuasion?" she challenged.

"Apparently not," I croaked.

"I do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want. You're not making me do a thing, vampire. So get over it."

I smirked, loving that if I had to go a few rounds with anyone tonight it was this particular hotheaded chick with the chocolate blood and sinful kisses.

So she wanted me, scars and all? Made a bloke's shoulders straighten and I lifted my chin a notch.

"Fine. I'm Anakim, or was. After the vamp bit me I joined the tribe because I didn't know what else there was to do. Besides, I needed some direction on the whole avoiding-the-sunlight thing."

"The Anakim tribe is weak," she said. "They won't stop until they get a Nephilim."

"Exactly. They—we—got our hands on an angel and his muse recently. It wasn't pretty. They are trying to breed helpless mortal muses to vicious Fallen. Much as I want to walk in the sun, I won't do it at a woman's expense. I'll stick to the shadows, thank you very much."

"Noble."

I shrugged. Monsters didn't do noble, either.

"So what are you going to do with the dead angel?" she asked.

"One less Fallen is one less horror for all the muses, wouldn't you say?"

She narrowed her eyes, seeing into a part of me I barely knew. "But you want something more."

This bird was not stupid.

"Yeah? Well, that's the part you don't get to know about. So you take the bloody halo and bring it to your sister. Give her a kiss for me, and I wish you all the luck avoiding her Fallen. Best advice I can give you is to run if you ever see another. Meanwhile, I'm going to trip on over to the angel across the way. He's only got iron wings and steel muscles to fight me now. Wish me luck."

"I'm coming with you."

"This is no longer a partnership, Coco. I let you toddle along—"

"Toddle along! You wouldn't have found the angel if I hadn't led you to the muse's place."

"A dead muse. Luck happened us upon the angel."

She did not pout, nor try to cajole my tender slice of heart with big sad eyes. But she did thrust back her shoulders and stare me down. Ninja vampires were supposed to be impervious.

I wasn't ninja. I possessed some wicked martial skills, learned during my military service. But who'd a thought I'd need emotional skills to fend off my most challenging opponent yet? Unfortunately, I hadn't received that particular training.

"Fine." I had a feeling I was going to regret this, but it was the better option than simply walking away and never seeing this lovely bird again. "You can stick around, because arguing with you will only piss me off. But you are not going in that building. You stay outside and keep watch, okay?"

She touched me before I even saw it coming. Her palm flattened over my heart. A heart that beat and wasn't as black as I thought it should be, and a heart that remembered what it was like to be mortal. Mortality had been tough—I'd served the British army a decade in combat and secret black ops missions that had brought me to the brink—but I'd never lost the capacity to need, to want, to pine for love.

Monsters don't get to love.

Right. Almost forgot.

"Let's go."

Six

The evening had taken an odd turn. I'd thought to find the halo, stick it in a brown padded mailer and send if off to my sister, Cassandra. Task complete. Back to the grind. The grind being nine-to-five detail behind the desk at a travel agency.

Adventure being my thing—albeit, on the glossy pages of a travel brochure—I preferred this altered version of the evening. Land in the arms of a scary-looking man, who happens to be a vampire, who happens to bite me—twice. Chase an angel. Dodge angel's deadly weapon. Win back the halo. The day is saved and the girl gets the guy!

Except whatever was going on in the warehouse across the street right now didn't sound, or look, like day-saving.

Zane was in there, and that made me antsy. I didn't want him to get hurt. I doubted the angel would leave him scarred this time around. No, the Fallen was out for blood after we'd stolen his halo.

Halos were supposed to hold the Fallen's earthbound soul. The angel could take that soul and become mortal. But Granny told us most Fallen didn't want to go with a pitiful human existence and eventually die a mortal death. They preferred to remain something more than mortal—and to go after their muses as their twisted libidos demanded.

Things crashed, maybe boards, windows and interior walls. Every so often a brilliant flash of blue would mimic the glow of the halo I held. A man cried out in pain—Zane. I'd developed a twitch, wanting to rush in every time I heard his miserable shouts.

Like that would do any good. Go, super travel-agent lady! Not to be. Actually, my middle name is Marie, not Adventure.

Squatting against the wall, I huddled, protecting the halo between my legs and chest, and kept one eye on the second-floor window. Had something just been thrown across the room? Something man-sized?

I ducked my head against my knees.

"Don't look, Coco. He'll be fine. He said he had a good chance now the angel had been disarmed."

Clicky footsteps set up the hairs on my arms. I recognized the pitter-pat of high heels. One person. Coming up around the corner from where I sat.

I swung up and almost did a chest bump with the woman who was preoccupied with scratching her wrist. A wrist that glowed blue.

"I don't know what it is," she muttered, boggled, and obviously more worried about the glowing sigil than a complete stranger who bowed over her wrist to inspect.

"It's always been there, but it just started to glow. It's like some kind of alien implant. Oh, my bloody hell!"

"Don't worry." I cringed. Not the truth, Coco. But I needed to calm her, and make sure no one nearby—like the Fallen—saw her.

I walked her back around the corner and hugged her. She allowed it. I sensed she was in shock for she shivered minutely. "It's an angel sigil," I said. "You were born with it, right?"

She nodded. Wisps of blond hair that had dried about her hairline teased the air. The rain had stopped, but it was dark, murky and more humid than a steam room.

"It's very pretty." I traced the square shape that had a triangle in the middle. I hadn't seen the Fallen's sigil, but I knew that this muse matched the angel Zane was fighting. That's the only reason it would glow. "And it itches?"

She nodded again. Her skin was red and I worried she'd tear it with those press-on nails. "Stop." Itching turned the sigil into a beacon the angel could follow right to the muse. I clasped both hands about her wrist. "I'll explain things. You won't like what I have to say, but you need the information."

"Sure, whatever, lady. Wait."

We both studied her inflamed skin, the sigil now a soft brown against the redness where she'd scratched. It had stopped glowing. I cast a glance over my shoulder. Darkness in the second-floor window.

Had Zane accomplished the task?

Or would the muse and I be dodging a furious angel intent on claiming the halo and his muse?

I strung the halo on a forearm, and sheltered the woman from whatever might come our way.

The air glimmered before me. I staggered, bloody blade held back and out with one hand. The cuts on my body hurt like hell, and the blood drooling out soaked me in crimson. Those damned iron wings had been sharp.

Had been. Heh.

The angel's body burst into a brilliant nimbus and shattered. A glamorous wall of sparkly bits hung suspended before me momentarily. The wings dropped in flakes of black iron, the crystallized body fell in a man-length pile of ash before my feet.

This is what I'd been stalking the streets for tonight. What I'd been striving for over the months since witnessing the Anakim tribe's macabre machinations.

And yet, I looked over my shoulder, out the window, but could not see street level. Did she wait for me? Didn't the hero deserve a kiss? Or had Coco wisely fled?

For a moment of utter wimpy wistfulness, I thought I saw her bright green eyes flash at me. And then I blinked, and the sexy princess turned cat burglar was running toward me. Her eyes weren't as happy to see me as I'd hoped, rather wide and unbelieving, actually.

She deftly avoided the angel ash and slammed into me, setting me off balance, so I clung to her. Every cut on my skin screamed. My right leg, which I'm sure was broken, buckled. I went down, and she fell with me, until we kneeled before each other, embracing.

I buried my face in her hair. Rain-fresh summers and the sensual heat of her skin chased back the pain. Chocolate heartbeats pulsed against my chest.

She clasped my head and whispered something that sounded like, "I'm so glad you're alive."

No one had ever been glad that my heart beat. People usually ran when they saw me coming. Coat me in a quart of my own blood, and I'd really send them running.

Yet Coco clung as if she had found something long ago lost. And I felt a piece being fit into some greater scene. Her life. My life. We fit together oddly enough.

Damn, I wanted to make this work. Could the pieces stay together?

"I'm getting blood all over you, love. Purple, even. Guess the angel blood mixed with my own."

"I don't care." She wouldn't let go.

Fine with me. Her warmth worked a balm to my wounds, and I could feel the skin knit closed, healing rapidly as vampires are wont. It sizzled a bit. Might have gotten traces of angel blood in my system, but I didn't feel the big kaboom looming.

"I talked to the angel's muse outside."

"What? His muse? Was here?"

"Yes, walking by. Must be why the angel was in the area—he followed the lure of her sigil. She was itching it like a crazy lady. I told her everything, and gave her my sister's phone number. I explained she's still not safe even though this Fallen is dead. He is dead, right?"

I toed the crystal dust. "That's about as dead as dead gets. Two muses in close proximity? London is overflowing with them."

"Let's get out of here."

"Works for me. But first—" I tugged out the folded plastic zip bag I kept tucked in a back pocket and handed it to Coco "—hold this. I'm not leaving without what I've come for."

I scooped up the heavy, glittering angel remnants into the bag. It looked like diamonds, and had the weight of precious gemstones, but held no value for any person unless they were tracking a Nephilim.

"That stuff is gorgeous," she said. "What is it?"

"Angel ash. The only means to kill a Nephilim."

"You plan on killing Nephilim? I thought you wanted to prevent Nephilim from being conceived?"

"I do, but I can't be in all places at once. And I'm no professional angel slayer. Tonight was a fluke. I only won because I had this." I patted the blade at my hip. It had been my first angel-slaying mission. "And the Anakim tribe is huge. I can’t stop them from trying to create a Nephilim. This stuff is like an insurance policy. It can be doled out to all who may need it."

"Like my sister?"

"It'll prove a might more effective than the halo, I'll wager."

I shoved the last bit of ash in the bag and followed Coco's fingers as we sealed the zip bag. I admired her enthusiasm, yet knew her real feelings were darker than the positive front she wore. Her sister would ever be in danger. There were dozens of Fallen, and the Anakim were summoning more to earth daily. The only thing that could kill them was a demon blade like I owned, or a real Sinistari demon, of which there were only about a dozen.

The future looked bleak. But I wanted to be a part of the solution. I couldn't do it myself. But I didn't want to endanger this precious woman.

"What's this?" She collected the black feather that had been uncovered beneath the ash. A splay of her fingers moved the delicate vanes. "It's made of iron? And yet it's soft as down."

"When an angel dies one single feather remains. The Sinistari collect them as war prizes. You take it, love. Stick it in your hair."

She did, and the thing almost looked glamorous, if the fact wasn't that it had come from a murderous angel who’d fallen to earth intent on screwing mortal women.

"You should go," I said, standing and shaking out my broken leg. "Sun's soon up."

"You need to avoid it more than I do. Will you walk me home?" she inquired innocently. But her tone offered a promise of something much more than urgent kisses and groping.

I chuckled. "Are you making a pass at me, love?"

"Well, you did imply that we would finish what we had started after we took care of the big bad." She splayed a hand over the glittering remains of the angel. "Big bad defeated."

I'd never seen the lash-fluttering move utilized so skillfully. I could taste her sweetness on my tongue. And I wanted to feel the air she moved with her lashes against my lips.

"Can you walk?"

"In a few minutes. Just need to give it a bit to heal."

"Maybe this will help."

Truly, her kisses could be bottled and sold as medical aid. Coco's mouth against mine chased off the pain, and the horror of standing before the Fallen and ramming the blade up into its chest. The agony I'd witnessed cross its kaleidoscope eyes had momentarily made me question my goal. Who was I—a true bloodsucking monster—to judge yet another monster? All of it was now obliterated by Coco's kiss.

Encircled in her arms, I began to drown, sinking deeper into a bright and wondrous abyss. Not a monster.

And I began to believe it.

I stepped onto my right foot and tested the leg. Healed. "You're good for me, love. Those kisses of yours are wicked powerful."

"Come on." She grabbed my arm, and I followed her dash through the warehouse.

"We have to beat the sun. My flat is a good jog away."

I didn't protest. In fact, I clasped her hand in mine and tugged her into the shadows, hugging the building walls, yet keeping up the race against the sun.

Seven

Clothing fell about our feet. I turned and wiggled my shoulders while Zane tugged at the corset strings crisscrossing down my back. The sun brightened the world outside, but I'd hastily pulled the curtains and Zane helped me throw a blanket over the pale bedroom sheers to darken the room.

The stiff corset loosened and fell. Zane's hands eased along my spine, massaging.

"How'd you know I needed that?" I asked, but the question ended in a satisfied moan.

"You've marks on your pretty flesh, love. Let me kiss them away."

His hot mouth touched me there, where the corset had imprisoned me, and there, soft and tender, a dash of his tongue easing away the aches. A tickle and then the sizzle as our body heat combined in a wicked dance.

I gasped as his hands glided down my hips and his kisses moved to the top of my derriere. There he licked a zigzagging line over my skin, burning his mark into me.

I reached back, slipping my fingers into his spiky hair, unable to ask for what I wanted, and surrendering to the devastating touches.

"Turn about, love."

He knelt before me, shirt off, and exposed abs and delts that required merciless licking and maybe even a few love nips. I was naked, and had never stood so boldly before a man on his knees before. I wanted to clasp my arms across my breasts.

And then I wanted to be worshipped by the twinkle in his deep blue eye.

Tossing back my head, I closed my eyes to the first touch of his tongue to my mons. He glided along the V of my thigh and down to tease at my humming center. One hot stroke sent my body to a delicious shiver.

I raked my fingers through his hair and he rose to lift me and lay me on the bed, stretching my arms above my head and across the sheets as my hips rose to his ministrations. Oh, sweet mercy, he could have me in mind, body and soul.

And yes, even blood.

Coco's skin was like silk and had the fine color of milk chocolate warmed by the sun. The closest I'd ever get to the sun, surely. I could worship her endlessly, gliding my skin against hers and reacting to her subtle movements and pleading moans.

She wanted it all. And I wasn't about to deny her.

Finding my place, a finger against her nub, and trailing my tongue up her stomach, I suckled at each hard nipple, tendering the velvety flesh slowly, prolonging the raging climax I could sense building in her sleek body.

Her muscled tightened and flexed beneath my roaming hands. Her hips nudged mine, the contact rubbing her powder-silken skin against my harder-than-marble erection.

If ever a monster could be worthy of love, then I wanted that chance. In this woman's arms. In her heart. Hell, I wanted to enter her very soul.

"Please," she begged. "Come inside me now, Zane. Give yourself to me."

Sweet mercy, the power of her persuasion mastered me.

I hilted myself inside her and we both came at the same time, crying out, clutching one another and clinging out of desperation and, at the same time, joy. Skin crushed to skin, sighs harmonizing, we became one another. We spoke a silent promise.

Muscles tensing and releasing with climax I bowed my head to her breast, grazing my fangs, which always came down during sex, along her moist skin.

"Yes," she gasped, curling her fingers about my skull. "Bite me again, lover."

This time I pricked her shallowly, fully aware I still pricked her deeply with my cock, and the intense orgasm reignited as her chocolate blood melted on my tongue. It deepened her pleasure, too, bringing up the giddy she'd flirtatiously asked for before. This was the soul-claiming part. And together we dove into the beginning of what felt like love.

"You're mine, love," I whispered.

"The ninja vampire's girl." Shuddering with traces of orgasm, she sighed and kissed my shoulder. "I like the sound of that."

I chuckled against her breast. "Works for me."

Don't miss the other spooky and sensual NOCTURNE BITES, available at www.ebooks.eharlequin.com and wherever eBooks are sold. Titles include:

Courage of the Wolf by Bonnie Vanak

Her Dark Heart by Vivi Anna

Wolf Magick by Cynthia Cooke

Vampire Lover by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

The Darkness by Nina Croft

At Your Command by Anna Leonard

The Vampire Hunter by Lisa Childs

The Huntress by Lisa Childs

A Vampire's Vindication by Alexis Morgan

Dragon Warrior by Meagan Hatfield

Firebreak by Anna Leonard

Looking for more paranormal romance? The sizzling and spine-chilling books of Harlequin Nocturne are available at www.eHarlequin.com or your local bookstore.

Interested in writing for Nocturne Bites? Send your submission to NocturneBites@Harlequin.ca

ISBN: 978-1-4268-7022-4

The Ninja Vampire’s Girl

Copyright © 2010 by Michele Hauf

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

www.eHarlequin.com