Night Pleasures (Dark-Hunter 1)

Tate smiled in easygoing friendship. "Every now and again."

Amanda frowned as Tate adjusted the bag so that her hand was on the outside and Hunter's inside it. It seemed strange to her that Tate was so willing to help a vampire.

"How did you two meet?" she asked Tate.

"I was feeding off a body when he found me," Hunter said from inside the bag.

Tate laughed as he straightened. "One night while I was on call, I went to pick up a body that wasn't dead. If not for Hunter, I'd be the one in the body bag."

"Shut up, Tate," Hunter snapped, "and drive."

"I'm going," Tate said as if completely unoffended by the high-handed way Hunter treated him.

"You know," Amanda said to Hunter as Tate got up front and started the ambulance. "You could try being nicer to people. Especially when they're helping you."

She heard his aggravated sigh even through the plastic. "Shouldn't that advice apply to you, as well?"

Amanda opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. He was right. She had been rather testy with him since all this started. "I guess you're right. Maybe we should both try and make the best of this."

If he responded, she didn't hear it since the siren blared again. Tate drove them to the hospital in record time, but the ride was far from smooth.

By the time they arrived, she felt as if she had been tossed around like sweatsocks in a dryer.

Tate pulled up to the rear of the hospital, under an awning that kept the sunlight from touching them. With a warning to her to remain quiet, he carefully pulled the stretcher out of the back so that he wouldn't hurt her arm as they descended out of the ambulance.

Once inside the hospital doors, Amanda held her jacket closed to hide the bloodstains on her sweater.

Hunter remained completely still and silent as Tate pushed the stretcher through the bustling areas. Amanda walked along beside them, and wanted to cringe and die given how obvious the handcuffs were.

Did they have to gleam so brightly under the fluorescent lights? Couldn't Desiderius have found nice, small police-sized cuffs?

Oh no, these had to be five inches thick with some kind of weird Greek design all over them. And a chain that ran a good four inches in length. Anyone who saw them would definitely think they came from one of Tabitha's weird sex catalogues.

The horror of it! Amanda had never even been inside a Frederick's of Hollywood. For that matter, she'd blushed profusely the handful of times she'd been in Victoria's Secret.

And everyone they passed turned to gawk at them.

"I haven't seen that in at least six months," an orderly said as they passed the admissions desk.

"I heard that," another orderly responded. "Wonder how old the poor guy was?"

"I dunno, but by the looks of her, I'd say sign me up."

Their laughter made her entire face burn. By the interested looks the men were raking over her body, she could surmise Hunter's words about her having dates might not have been too far off the mark.

"Hey, Tate?" a young doctor asked as they drew near the elevators. "Should I ask?"

Tate shook his head. "You know all the weird shit comes through my office."

The doctor laughed while Amanda covered her face with her hand.

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, Amanda whispered under her breath, "Hunter, I swear, I'm going to kill you for this."

"Dearie," an elderly hospital volunteer said from beside her. "It looks to me like you already did." She patted Amanda lightly on the arm. "The same thing happened to me and my Harvey. Poor thing. I sure do miss him, too."

Tate choked on his laughter.

Amanda groaned and prayed for this ordeal to end.

Once they reached the morgue, Tate took them into a dim, metallic lab and locked the door. Hunter unzipped the bag from the inside.

"Thanks," he said to Tate as he sat up and removed the bag from his body. He folded it and placed it on a table.

Tate opened a drawer in the small cabinet next to the door. "No problem. Now, take your coat and shirt off and let me see what happened to you."

"It will heal."

Tate set his jaw stubbornly. "What of infection?"

Kyrian laughed. "Immortals don't die from infections. I am completely incapable of carrying any disease."

"You may not die from it, but it doesn't mean it won't hurt and it'll heal faster if treated." He gave Kyrian a look that said he would not be swayed. "I'm not going to take no for an answer. Let me treat that wound."

Kyrian opened his mouth to argue more, but if he knew anything about Tate, it was that the man was stubborn. Deciding not to waste his time, Kyrian obeyed before he remembered the coat and shirt wouldn't come completely off, thanks to the handcuffs.

He gave an exasperated sigh and left his clothes to hang against his forearm, then got back on the stretcher and leaned back on his elbows to wait for Tate.

As he watched Tate gather supplies, he heard Amanda's heart pounding and her breathing speed up. Felt her keen interest as she raked her gaze over his body. She wanted him, and her hot desire played havoc with him.

Kyrian shifted and wished his jeans were a couple of sizes bigger, since the black denim started biting fiercely into his erection.

Damn, he'd forgotten what a literal and figurative pain his body could be when an attractive woman was around.

And she was attractive. What with that charming, elfish face and those big, blue eyes...

He'd always been a fool for blue eyes.

Even without looking at her, he knew she was licking those plump, full lips, and his throat went dry as he imagined the taste of them. The feel of her breath on his face and her tongue against his as he kissed her.

Dear gods, and he had thought the Romans had tortured him! Their best interrogator had been an amateur compared to the physical and mental agony her nearness caused him now.

Even more disturbing than her looks was the fact that she had been an amazingly good sport about all of this. Most women would have been screaming in terror of him or crying.

Or both.

But she had met the entire ordeal with a courage and strength of heart he'd not seen in a long time.

He actually liked her, and that surprised him most of all.

Amanda jumped when Hunter met her gaze. Those deep, black eyes bored into hers and made her hot and breathless.

He lay on the stretcher with one leg bent up and the other hanging over the edge. The black denim hugged his long, powerful body.

And those muscled arms...

Lean and defined, he was all masculine beauty. His biceps were flexed as he leaned back on his elbows. She wanted to reach out and touch him so badly that she ached from it. No doubt, he would be rock-hard and satiny underneath her hand.

His shoulders were incredibly broad, with sculpted muscles that promised strength, speed, and agility. His pecs and arms were every bit as well-formed and tight.

And his stomach, oh heaven! Those flat abs had been made for nibbling.

Unbidden, her gaze followed the thin trail of coffee-colored hairs that started at his navel and vanished under the tight denim. By the size of the bulge in his jeans, she could tell he was amply endowed, and more than passingly interested in her.

The thought made her even hotter.

The deep, golden tan of his flesh defied what she knew him to be. How could a vampire have skin so tawny and inviting?

But even more tantalizing than the lean muscles that beckoned for caresses were the multitude of scars that crossed his flesh. He looked as if he had been clawed by a huge tiger, or beaten within an inch of his life with a whip.

Or both.

Hunter lay down as Tate approached, and she saw a small double-bow-and-arrow symbol branded into his left shoulder. She cringed at the thought of how much such a thing must have hurt, and she wondered if he had agreed to it, or if someone had put it there against his will.

"I take it from your scars that your vampire friends don't think much of you," she said.

"You think?" he retorted.

"Is he always this sarcastic?" she asked Tate.

"Actually, I thought he was being rather nice to you." Tate cleansed the vicious-looking wound with alcohol. He prepared to give Hunter a local.

Hunter caught his hand before Tate could inject him. "Don't bother."

"Why?" Tate asked with a frown.

"I'm immune to it."

Amanda's jaw dropped.

Tate just reached for the sutures.

"You can't do that," she said, interrupting him. "He'll feel it."

"He needs that wound closed," Tate insisted. "Jeez, you can see his bones through it."

"Go ahead," Hunter said with a calmness that astounded her.

Stunned, she cringed while Tate made the first suture.

Hunter kept his jaw locked and said nothing.

Amanda watched Tate tend Hunter. Her heart wrenched at the thought of how much pain Hunter must be feeling.

"Doesn't that hurt?" she asked him.

"No," Hunter said between clenched teeth.

Amanda could tell by the way the veins stood out on his neck and the way he clenched his fists that he was lying.

"Here," she said, taking his hand in hers. "Just hold tight."

Kyrian started at the softness of her hand in his. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like that. He'd been a Dark-Hunter for so long that he had all but forgotten simple kindness.

Tate acted out of gratitude and a sense of obligation.

But her...

There was no reason for her to hold his hand. He'd barely spoken a civil word to her, and yet she reached out to him when no one else would have. It made him feel strange toward her. Protective. Tender.