paranormal-urban-fantasy

He lifted her hand to his mouth. The touch of his lips was soft on her scraped palm, the tiny licks of his tongue so light she could barely feel them. Wait. He was licking her?"You can't lick me," she said sternly. "i don't know your name."He looked up and a quick grin slashed across his face. "Luca," he said...."Luca," she repeated. "Is that an America name?""No." He lifted her hand to his mouth again, and his tongue once more began a slow, gentle movement over the scrape. She was okay with it now, because she knew his name.

Once outside, the man stopped, lifted his head, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, as if the air smelled wonderful to him. Then he turned to Jimmy, his expression hard and serious. "We will need an army.""Uh, I don't exactly have one of those handy.

I'm calling the police," she said, showing him the phone in her hand.He smiled, and for a moment she forgot about the phone. "You don't need the police."No, of course she didn't How silly.

A small village lay just over the farthest hill. When he had to feed, he went there. And when he left after feeding, the people he'd met, even those he'd fed upon, immediately forgot he'd been there at all. Every time he entered the village, the residents greeted him as a new visitor. That was his power, his curse, his salvation; no one remembered him.

Luca had many strengths and powers; as a rare blood born, conceived and born to a vampire mother and father, he was much stronger than those who'd been turned to the life.

An accident of birth had signed her death warrant.He could mark her name off his to-do list.

Hurry," Hector urged, and his voice changed as his power surged, his tone and cadence sliding into the rhythm that said he was seeing the future. "Battle is in the air. I smell it. I can almost touch it. Death is coming Death is coming for us." With a click, the call disconnected.

Women, music, beer, and pie. Rurik, you're just an all-American guy.