Hunter's Hope
by Alyssa Day
Series: Vampire Motorcycle Club, #2
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Entangled: Amara
Release Date: November 30, 2021
Hunter Evans risked his life again and again as a firefighter until the night he died saving a child…only to be reborn as a vampire. Now the man who lived his life as the quintessential “nice guy” must find a way to conquer the deadly urges that threaten to turn him feral. When his own actions put a beautiful woman in danger, he vows to protect her…even from himself.
Alice Darlington has a secret of her own: she sees ghosts. She thought she’d done a good job of keeping it under wraps—until now. A terrible threat from her past is hunting her down in order to use her power for dark purposes. Now she’s on the run and doesn’t know who to trust or where to go.
When Hunter and Alice team up to battle the dangers coming at them from all sides, they’re forced to rely on each other. But Hunter doesn’t know how long he can keep the beast inside him away from the woman it craves…
As Hunter started to step out of the elevator, an odd-looking dog raced in front of him and darted inside.
“Marigold!” a woman’s voice called. “Marigold! Stop!”
Hunter looked up to see a flurry of color as a woman rushed down the hallway toward him. Or, presumably, toward the dog.
“She’s inside. She’s not going anywhere,” he said, moving to block the entry to keep the animal in, surprised to find himself amused for the second time in ten minutes. For only the third or fourth time in the weeks since he’d died.
“She might push the button for a floor, and then where would I be? Chasing her all over the hotel all night?” The woman, a colorful whirlwind of purple silk, wild red curls, and flashing green eyes, ducked past him and bent down. “You naughty thing! Hotels are dangerous! What if somebody tried to eat you?”
“This may not be a five-star hotel, but I doubt they’ve resorted to eating dogs,” Hunter drawled.
She lifted the animal into her arms and stood, turning to face him but still looking at the animal in her arms. “Marigold is a raccoon, as you can see. And this is the South. They eat raccoons in the South, or haven’t you read Nathaniel Porter’s Field Guide to Local Fauna?”
“I…can’t say that I have,” he said slowly, because his brain cells seemed to be melting.
It was a raccoon.
In a hotel.
And the raccoon rescuer was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
She was nearly as tall as he was, so maybe five-ten. She had cheekbones that could cut glass, and her smile, directed at the raccoon, was wide and lit up her face. Her eyes were the brilliant green of a spring apple, and her mass of red curls reached nearly to her waist. The purple dress she wore was a complicated thing made of scarves or loose flutters of fabric, and the entire picture gave him the impression of a forest nymph or fortune-teller.
“A raccoon,” he finally said, simply because the situation seemed to call for him to speak, but he had no idea what the hell to say.
“Yes. As I said. If you’d move out of the way?” She finally glanced up at him. Her eyes narrowed, and her glossy red lips tightened. “Oh. I should have known it would be that kind of night.”
He knew she was talking, but he couldn’t quite make out the words or the meaning, because every single molecule of his body was suddenly, painfully focused on one thing and one thing only.
The pulse beating in her throat.
“Marigold!” a woman’s voice called. “Marigold! Stop!”
Hunter looked up to see a flurry of color as a woman rushed down the hallway toward him. Or, presumably, toward the dog.
“She’s inside. She’s not going anywhere,” he said, moving to block the entry to keep the animal in, surprised to find himself amused for the second time in ten minutes. For only the third or fourth time in the weeks since he’d died.
“She might push the button for a floor, and then where would I be? Chasing her all over the hotel all night?” The woman, a colorful whirlwind of purple silk, wild red curls, and flashing green eyes, ducked past him and bent down. “You naughty thing! Hotels are dangerous! What if somebody tried to eat you?”
“This may not be a five-star hotel, but I doubt they’ve resorted to eating dogs,” Hunter drawled.
She lifted the animal into her arms and stood, turning to face him but still looking at the animal in her arms. “Marigold is a raccoon, as you can see. And this is the South. They eat raccoons in the South, or haven’t you read Nathaniel Porter’s Field Guide to Local Fauna?”
“I…can’t say that I have,” he said slowly, because his brain cells seemed to be melting.
It was a raccoon.
In a hotel.
And the raccoon rescuer was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
She was nearly as tall as he was, so maybe five-ten. She had cheekbones that could cut glass, and her smile, directed at the raccoon, was wide and lit up her face. Her eyes were the brilliant green of a spring apple, and her mass of red curls reached nearly to her waist. The purple dress she wore was a complicated thing made of scarves or loose flutters of fabric, and the entire picture gave him the impression of a forest nymph or fortune-teller.
“A raccoon,” he finally said, simply because the situation seemed to call for him to speak, but he had no idea what the hell to say.
“Yes. As I said. If you’d move out of the way?” She finally glanced up at him. Her eyes narrowed, and her glossy red lips tightened. “Oh. I should have known it would be that kind of night.”
He knew she was talking, but he couldn’t quite make out the words or the meaning, because every single molecule of his body was suddenly, painfully focused on one thing and one thing only.
The pulse beating in her throat.
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