Depraved (Tales of a Vampire Hunter #2) (2 page)

By the time the sun came up, Oliver had worked his way
through several emotions and turned his anger into determination. He had a
plan, and an iron resolve to do whatever he could to keep Miranda safe and give
her the life she deserved, one with a family that loved her, even if it was
just him.

“Are you awake?” Miranda asked, nuzzling her nose into the
curve of his shoulder, her voice baby-soft and sleepy sounding.

Oliver kissed the top of her head, inhaling the sweet scent
of her and smoothing her rambunctious red curls from her cheek.

“Yeah, Baby.”

Awake was exactly what he was—he’d never felt more alive,
more alert, and more ready for whatever came next. The hours of turmoil had
given him  clarity he’d never felt, not when he’d been confused about his
family’s vampire hunting legacy, and not when he’d found out that they were all
full of shit. He knew what he was now, and that was a start.

Miranda turned, making a sound that was a cross between a
groan and a sigh before sprinkling his neck and chest with kisses. She propped
herself up on her elbows and looked at him, blinking sleep from her clear blue
eyes.

“So, what now?” she asked.

Oliver heard a new resolve in her voice, a bit of the
Miranda he’d first met only days ago who’d been ready to take on vampires and
vampire hunters and have fun doing it. He grinned, sat up and flipped her over
onto her back. Sliding a knee between her legs, he enjoyed her look of
wide-eyed surprise and the dimples that appeared in her cheeks when she grinned
at him.

“This now?” she said, her voice a luscious purr as she
wiggled beneath him.

Oliver captured her roaming hands and pulled them over her
head, smiling when she responded by arching into him.

“This now,” he said, holding her hands and nipping at her
lush bottom lip until her mouth opened for him and he could take the kiss he’d
wanted all night.

“Ohh,” she sighed, her voice breathy and sexy. “I
like
this.”

“And this?” he asked, shifting his hips slightly so his cock
nudged her warm center.

“I
love
that. I love
you
.” She spread her legs
wide and her fingers gripped his tight as he seated himself deep within her.

He made love to her slowly, only letting her hands go when
the desire for her touch on his body became a need that had to be answered.

They moved against one another as if they had all the time
in the world, neither in a hurry for it to end. This time, though Oliver saw
her aura shimmering around her, he didn’t make love to her using anything but
his body. He simply used what he saw to direct his movements, noticing the way
the colors of her soul changed from soft blue to pink to sunset orange at the
center as her pleasure grew. When she came, the pigment swirled together,
rainbow-like.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered when he found his own
release.

After, they stayed together. She lay on her side, her leg flung
over his hip. Her eyes once again danced with happiness.

“You put a spell on me, Oliver Ripley,” she said in a dreamy
voice.

“Do you see it too when we make love?” he asked, looking
into her eyes and only seeing love reflected back at him, realizing a part of
him was still nervous that he’d scare her with what he could do, how different
he was.

“You
did
put a spell on
me!” She grinned and swatted his arm.

“No, I didn’t do any of that vampire hunter stuff. But I
can’t help seeing into you the same way, seeing your soul. It’s like a light,
colors all around you. Do you see that? You’re half vampire hunter too.”

For the first time, Oliver wondered if Miranda might have
the same ability he did to capture the soul of a vampire and snuff it out. What
if she could and just didn’t know it yet? She hadn’t known before killing his
brother that she could kill like a vampire. What if she could kill like a
vampire hunter too?

“No. I don’t see anything but stars.” She kissed him,
sighing into his mouth, filling him with love that swept his other worries
away.

Oliver’s mood lightened. She didn’t see what he did when
they made love, and she wasn’t concerned about his abilities or her own. But
what would she think if he told her all of it—what he’d done the first time they’d
made love, sipping from her soul, sharing some of his with her? What would she
say if he told her that he was certain he could take her life in those moments
if he’d wanted to, if he lost control somehow?

Shoving those thoughts from his mind, he sat up. “I saw
stars too and rainbows, and there may have been a unicorn at one point, but I
was coming so hard my eyes crossed so I can’t be sure.” He swatted her behind
and grinned when she yelped.

Laughing, she sat up. Totally unselfconscious, she pushed
the sheets that had tangled around them off the bed. Standing, she stretched.

“As long as you’re not seeing vampires . . .” she said,
trailing off as her joking mood ended as quickly as it had come.

“No vampires. Not today, Darlin’.” He rose from the bed and wrapped
his arms around her, hugging her close. “I’ve got other plans.”

She laughed softly, looping her arms around his neck and
arching one brow. “Do tell.”

“First, I need you to tell me how this hair-dye crap we
bought works. Shower first and then dye?”

“No, you do it on dry hair and you don’t wash after or it
strips the color.”

“How about the tanner?”

“That we should put on after we shower. You’ve got to scrub
first so you don’t end up all splotchy.”

She left the circle of his arms and rummaged through the
plastic bags containing their supplies, coming up with the box of brown dye and
the tanning cream.

“What about you?” she asked.

“You’re going to cut all this floppy hair off me and slather
me with the tanning jizz. All over.” He grinned.

“I took a beauty class once in high school so I think I can
do a spiky sort of haircut on you. You’ll look like a criminal when I’m done
with you! In a good way.”

“Let’s get this show on the
road. You’re going to be a stunning brunette.” Taking one last kiss, wishing he
could spend the whole day in bed with her instead, he led her into the
bathroom.

*****

“Wow, you look totally different. Really tan. Do you think
we used too much?” Miranda regarded their images in the mirror.

She’d shorn his long hair, leaving enough on the top to
spike it into unruly peaks that stuck out in different directions. His skin was
now a swarthy brown shade, making his violet eyes seem paler. Oliver frowned,
not liking the way they stood out against his new tan. He wondered if he could
get brown contacts and doubted it.

“It’s fine, Baby. I don’t look like me, and that’s good.”

He pushed the worry away that none of this mattered anyway.
The people who tracked them weren’t people at all and, in Paris, had zeroed in
on them as if they’d been wearing tracking devices. But disguises might give
them a little more time and, right now, Oliver was only thinking about making
it through each minute.

Miranda attempted to fluff the new asymmetrical cut she’d
blown dry to get rid of her natural curls. Short on one side and long on the
other, the tips barely grazed her chin.

“You look like you should be in a rock band,” Oliver said.
“Sexy.”

Miranda turned her head from side to side and leaned closer
to the mirror, wrinkling her nose at him as she looked past her own reflection.
“It’s cute, but I’ve never had hair this short before. I’m going to miss the
red.”

They’d been a little less carried away with her tanner. She
now had a lovely, golden glow. She’d made up her face, lining her eyes with
black and applying dark red lipstick. She really did look like she should be
fronting a band, though the outfit she had on screamed
girl-from-a-small-town—khaki shorts that came to her knees, a baggy tank top
and Keds with socks he’d insisted she wear, thinking of the running they might
have to do.

“I’d wear something much cuter if I was in a band. You look
like a hot nerd. Not quite the bad-boy I had in mind.” She laughed and slipped
her arms around his waist, tweaking the big, black reading glasses he’d bought
to complete his disguise.

“Maybe I should try some of that eye stuff too,” he said,
grinning when he reached for it and she slapped his hand away.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Miranda asked, shoving
their makeover supplies into their backpack.

“Oaxaca. It’s about six hours south.” Oliver handed her the
map.

“Can’t we just go back to bed?” She slid her arms around
him.

“You reading my mind again?” he said, hands full of her lush
rear-end.

“Is that what’s on your mind?” She grinned and kissed him
until he almost gave in.

“That’s always on my mind.” He nibbled the sweet spot where
her neck curved into her ear.

He wished they could just slow down and enjoy one another
like normal people. He’d never been in love before. Why’d it have to happen at
the same time everything else went to hell? A spark of anger flared as other
concerns pressed down on him, turning passion into nervous energy.

“But, we’ve got to go. I know.” She hugged him tight and
then, as if steeling herself for what they both feared might be next, squared
her shoulders and stepped away from him.

He pulled her back for one last hug. “When this is all over,
I’m planning on spending days in bed with you.”

“Days?” She grinned and peppered his face with kisses.

“Weeks.” He captured her mouth for one last kiss before
grabbing their bag.

They held hands as they checked out and walked to their
beat-up looking little car. Oliver was glad to see her smiling again. As tough
as she was, he’d discovered Miranda was a worrier. The way to keep her sharp
and carefree was to distract her and keep her mind on what was happening right
now, not on what might happen next.

He gassed up just outside of town, trying on a southern
accent, which wasn’t difficult. People in Southern Indiana had a drawl he’d
never quite adopted, though he found it easy to mimic now.

They headed out of town on a southbound highway and, for a
while, it was almost like they were on vacation. Traffic was light, and no one
seemed to be tailing them. Pollution gave the air around them a gray color
until they left the valley that cradled the sprawling city. Then, it was wide
blue skies and sunshine.

After a couple hours driving, Oliver relaxed his guard
enough to enjoy Miranda’s company, the ride, and the scenery that reminded him
of the American Southwest with its mix of mountains, cactus, and scrubby
looking trees dotting a brown landscape.

Miranda cranked up the only radio station that came in
without static and they bounced along to the sounds of mariachi bands and
Mexican pop stars.

“Says here t
his is the land
of the Aztecs. They took it from the Toltecs and adopted some of their gods
like this Quet-zal-coatl guy who became a head-god dude with
Huit-zil-opoc-htli—I have no idea how to pronounce this stuff. We should have
bought one of those learn-to-speak-Spanish tapes,” Miranda said.

She had her feet propped up
on the dash and, when she wasn’t making up funny English lyrics to the Spanish
music coming from the radio, she read to Oliver from the map’s guide.

“He sounds like a bad-ass, no
matter how you pronounce it, which I guess is important if you’re a god,” he
said.

She’d told him she wanted to
be a writer someday. Reading about the people and mythology of this area was a
perfect distraction for her and gave him something to think about too as he
drove along, swerving occasionally to avoid potholes and armadillos.

“He was the god of war. The
Aztecs thought he’d given them their power and thought he demanded human
sacrifices to keep them on top. Man, these people were brutal! Says here it’s
always been this way around here. Those Toltec dudes the Aztecs kicked out were
“a marauding tribe of Chich-imeca . . . ‘Sons of Dogs’.” Her eyes grew large as
she read.

“I’m sure they’re much more
civilized now, Darlin’,” he reassured her, taking the exit that would get them through
the first mountain pass.

“Let’s hope so. We’ve got
enough on our plates without dog warriors to worry about,” she said, shivering
despite the heat that had only lessened slightly as the sun had started to go
down.

They’d been on the road for
hours, only stopping twice for restroom breaks, buying more gas and two orange
sodas in old-fashioned glass bottles like you hardly saw anymore in America.
Oliver had managed to keep Miranda’s mind off their troubles,
and they hadn’t sensed any danger so far.

All that changed as they
started down the last steep hill that would take them across the wide valley
and into the town of Oaxaca.

With
a jolt, the road under them seemed to buckle. The steering wheel jerked free of
Oliver’s hands. The car veered to the right, off the pavement, and scrabbled
over gravel before he could react and yank the wheel the other direction to put
them back on the road. He’d never been in an earthquake, but that was the first
thing he thought of as the car continued to bump along, rolling down a hill
even after he’d taken his foot off the gas.

“What the hell?” Miranda
said, taking her feet off the dash, her gaze flying to his.

The car bucked like a wild
horse. The scent of burning rubber hit Oliver’s nose as bits of tire flew over
the car’s hood and hit the windshield. Though there were no other cars on the
road, he carefully pumped the brakes to avoid suddenly veering into the other
lane or off the road again.