The monsters were out in full force.
Amber Fortune—she’d recently picked the last name just because she liked the sound of it—took a moment to gaze around the packed bar. She counted five—no, six—vampires perched close to their would-be prey. The vamps were sporting fangs and even a bit of blood on their chins. They must have thought the blood was a sexy touch.
A werewolf was to her right, and his fur pushed out of his shirt. He wasn’t sitting. Instead, the werewolf stood at his full height and every few moments, he let out a little howl.
Interesting.
There were some witches out there, oh-so-sexy witches with tight little skirts, high heels, and brooms at the ready. Their light laughter drifted in the air and invited others to join in with them.
“Another drink.”
Amber’s gaze swung to the mummy who’d appeared in front of her. His bandages were looking a little worn as he gave her a wide smile.
“Beer,” he said, and his dark gaze slid over her. “Why aren’t you dressed up? I mean…it’s a Halloween party, right? Everyone is supposed to be dressed up?”
It was actually a pre-Halloween party since October 31st wouldn’t be hitting for a few more days. But in New Orleans, the parties always started early.
She pushed a beer toward him. “I am wearing a costume.” She glanced to the left, then to the right, and Amber leaned a bit over the bar, lowering her voice conspiratorially as she whispered, “The human skin? That’s my costume. Underneath it, I’m the most terrifying monster you can imagine.”
The mummy—probably a college guy from the looks of him—blinked a bit, as if he were trying to decide if she was joking.
She wasn’t, but Amber gave him a wide smile.
Then he laughed. “Good one!” He saluted her with his beer bottle before he turned around and headed for the witches.
Good one. He had no idea.
Her short nails drummed on the bar top. Ten to one odds said the next person who walked into the bar would be wearing a vamp costume. Vamps were big this year. Ten to one—
The man who stalked through the doorway wasn’t wearing a costume.
He had on jeans, a dark t-shirt and a dark hoodie. The hoodie was pulled up over his head, but she could see the hard angles of his face. The square jaw, the long, strong blade of his nose.
He was built with powerful shoulders and a tall, muscled frame. As she stared at him, Amber felt little alarm bells start to go off in her body.
Something is wrong. Something is—
He looked up at her, and Amber was immediately pinned by the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Those eyes seemed to see right through her.
Breathe. Breathe. Be normal. But it was hard to be normal when fear was snaking through her insides. The stranger began walking toward her, and the crowd seemed to magically move right out of his path. He didn’t touch anyone, not so much as a little brush of his shoulder against another person. He moved with a dark grace, and she should look away from him.
She didn’t.
She also thought she should probably run.
She didn’t.
She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and let the music fade into the background as she faced the man who was coming right to her.
When he was about three feet from the bar, all of the vamps—and even the werewolf—suddenly got up and walked away. Coincidence? She didn’t think so.
Who is he?
Her hand inched beneath the bar, searching for the weapon she liked to keep at the ready.
And then he was there, standing right in front of her. That too bright blue gaze of his swept over her face, seeming to absorb every detail of her expression. Then slowly, that gaze drifted down her body…or at least, it drifted over as much of her body as was visible before the bar hid her from his view.
“What do you want?” Amber wasn’t just talking about drinks. This guy wasn’t like the others in the bar. Goosebumps had risen on her arms. That tended to happen—when she was in the presence of another paranormal. It was part of her body’s alarm system. She got cold when danger was near.
This guy—he was definitely dangerous.
The hood still covered his head, but she could see a hint of his dark hair. His skin was golden, his lips firm but oddly sensual, and up close, the guy seemed even bigger than he’d first appeared.
His hands lifted. He wore gloves—gloves that were black but didn’t look to be made of leather. She wasn’t sure what that material was. His right hand flattened on the bar, but his left hand was fisted.
“I have something of yours.”
Oh, wow. His voice. His voice! She’d never heard a voice so deep and dark. Even Vin Diesel couldn’t compete with this guy. It wasn’t just a voice that was heard. She swore she could feel that deep rumble in her body.