“Don’t—”
Kerplunk. Her foot plopped into cool water up to her shin. She quickly regained her balance and moved her foot back onto dry land. Unfortunately, some water had seeped into her ankle-high hiking boot. Damn, she hated wet socks.
“Told you not to move,” he muttered.
She glared at him. “You could have warned me about the lake.”
“It’s not a lake. And I don’t explain myself.” He gave her an annoyed look that made her blink at the intensity of it.
He was angry with her? More than angry. His brown eyes seethed with controlled rage. Great. She’d been kidnapped by a pissed-off vampire.
He moved away from the light, and soon, he’d lit two more lamps.
She pivoted to look around, her sodden leather boot squishing as she moved. They were definitely underground. The walls were solid rock, and part of the ceiling high overhead was stone. The rest of the ceiling was a tangled mass of earth and tree roots. In places, long strands of green ivy dangled down into the cave.
As far as she could tell, they were just below the surface. Tiny cracks here and there let in damp, fresh air, and brilliant green moss clung to the tree roots and rock ceiling.
She was standing on the sandy shore of an underground stream. On the far side of the stream, she spotted a narrow strand of sand, then a smooth wall of rock. No exit there. The cave was narrow and long, following the path of the stream. It was a beautiful place, what with the green moss and tendrils of ivy overhead, and the soothing sound of moving water.
To the right, where the cave’s ceiling was solid rock, she spotted a dark alcove. Inside were some wooden crates, set side by side to form a rectangle. Stacked on top were several open sleeping bags and a blanket. His bed.
This was his home. She glanced back at him. He was levitating up to a tree root with gnarly stems that protruded like fingers. There, he hooked the leather slings of his crossbow and quiver of arrows. He dropped neatly to the ground, then walked a few steps to a foldout camp table.
He emptied the deep pockets of his coat, placing four knives, a phone, two handguns, and extra ammunition on the table. Then he unbuckled a sword belt and set his sheathed sword on the table. Apparently he wasn’t worried about her attacking, for he was completely disarming himself.
She pivoted once more to examine his home. He had quite a collection of camping gear: oil lanterns, two ice chests, two foldout tables. He’d built a makeshift bookcase with cinder blocks and planks of wood. Neatly folded clothing was stacked on the bottom two shelves. The top shelf held an assortment of books and electronic gadgets. How did he power them? A thick wire snaked up the rock wall and disappeared among some tree roots. Interesting. His cave might not be as primitive as she’d first thought.
Far to the right, past his bedroom, the underground stream disappeared into a rock tunnel. He’d situated an old-fashioned tin bathtub on the sandy shore with a spigot that extended over the water. Hanging from a hook rammed into the rock ceiling was a large bucket with a long chain. His version of a shower, she assumed. Close by there was a foldout wooden rack where he’d stretched out his laundry to dry. For a guy who lived in a cave, he appeared to be rather neat and tidy.
“Who are you?” His deep voice rumbled behind her, tingling the skin at the back of her neck.
She turned and her jaw dropped. He’d taken off his bulky coat and tossed it on the table. That one move had transformed him from an anonymous hobo into a gorgeous superhero. His dark green T-shirt stretched over incredibly wide shoulders. The worn, faded material clung to every contour of his muscled chest and abdomen before tapering to his narrow hips. He folded his arms over his chest, and she thought his sleeves might rip from failing to accommodate the size of his biceps.
The tingle on her neck skittered down her spine. It wasn’t just his muscles that were affecting her. It was something more. His presence. It seemed to fill the cave and, worse, fill her senses, leaving her with no doubt that this man was powerful, intelligent, and perhaps even dangerous.
She swallowed hard. “Who are you?”
“You know what I am.”
“A vampire, yes. But I haven’t figured out yet if you’re one of the good ones.”
“Neither have I.” His mouth twisted with a wry look. “I take it you’ve met the good ones?”
She nodded. “Jin Long, Dou Gal, Angus, and some others. Do you know them?”
“Yes. How do you know them?”
She ignored his question. “Then you’re on their side?”
“Only when it suits me.” He pulled a bottle of blood from an ice chest and opened it. “I won’t feed from you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He took a long drink.
That was good news. She sheathed her knife.
He set the bottle down and frowned at her. “You pissed me off.”
Her hand shot back to the handle of her knife.
He snorted. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not after going to the trouble of saving your pretty ass.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I have excellent aim, so I suggest you rephrase that.”
He finished his bottle, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re right. ‘Pretty’ was an insult. I’d say your ass is damned beautiful—” When she pulled her knife from its sheath, he scoffed. “I rescued you, and you’re going to kill me? You should be thanking me.”
She pointed the weapon at him. “You brought me here against my will.”