Aurora Sky: Vampire Hunter (35 page)

Once inside Fane’s bedroom, I stripped down to my underwear
and slid under his covers. Despite his taunt about sunrise, I did sleep—I slept
wrapped in the scent of him. It was a pale second to Fane’s actual arms, but it
was all I had.

Sometime very early in the morning, I awoke with a sore
throat. I eased out of bed and began opening Fane’s dresser drawers until I
found a T-shirt. Once I’d slipped it over my head, I tiptoed down the hallway.

Fane was asleep on the couch. His chest rose and fell steadily
beneath a blanket. My eyes rested on his mismatched lips. No more kisses. Not
between a vampire and a hunter.

I needed a drink of water. But upon entering the kitchen, I
went to the fridge, not the sink. The blood bags glowed beneath a single light
bulb. I stood there, staring. The cold air seeped over my legs in a cool
caress.

“Looking for something?”

Fane’s voice startled me out of my trance. I hated the way
my gasp made me sound as though I’d been caught red handed.

“I thought there might be some juice in the fridge.”

I stared at the floor until I noticed Fane was barefoot. My
eyes traveled up his black cotton sleep bottoms to his naked torso.

Forget about the blood. He looked delicious in the dark.

The Cheshire teeth came out once more as Fane smiled and
looked me in the eye. “I’ve seen that look before.”

And suddenly I felt like we were finishing a decade’s old conversation.
The first time Fane said it I desperately wanted him to complete his thoughts,
but then Valerie dragged him away. The second time he’d brushed it off.

Now I willed him not to continue, but I could tell from the
smile on his face that nothing would give him greater pleasure than to pull the
rug out from under me.

“You died in that car accident didn’t you?”

I squeezed my lips shut. Fane pushed the fridge door closed
with one hand. He took a step closer. Much too close. His lips were inches from
mine when he lifted my chin with his fingers.

“I’ve seen that look on the dead.” Fane stared into my eyes.
“That vacant, hollow look when life ends yet continues forever.”

What if the antidote had failed? What if I’d lost too much
blood and somehow the virus had kicked in?

I pulled away. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not a
vampire.”

Fane’s smile widened.

I’m not.

Nikki Jefford is a third generation Alaskan with a
degree in journalism from the University of Alaska Anchorage. She loves
fantasy, magic, fictional bad boys, and heroines who kick butt.

Nikki married Sébastien, the love of her life, while
working as a teaching assistant at a high school in France during the 1999/2000
school year. They now reside in the not-so-tropical San Juan Islands, 70 miles
northeast of Forks, Washington in a town without a single traffic light.

Visit Nikki’s website at:
www.nikkijefford.com

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