Page 25 of Bloodhunter

Somehow I doubted that would chase away the cold inside me.

I strode for the bedroom, intent upon seeing what Amias hadleft on the bed. A weapon, he’d said. A blade.

Silverlight.

My cell rang, and I dug it from my pocket, impatient. I putit on speaker, then tossed it to the bed beside the rather small,leather-wrapped bundle that lay there.

Amias’s gift.

“Miriam,” I snapped. “I’m fine. You don’t need to callevery—”

“I’m not checking on you,” she said, her voice as impatientas mine.

I took a deep breath, not taking my stare from the package.“What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been in contact with someone who can help you. He’s ahunter, too, and one with a lot more experience. He’s coming to town and I wantyou to meet him.”

I groaned. “I don’t want—”

“He’s a sweetheart,” she interrupted. “But he hassome…um…issues. It’s time he became a little more social. He’s also my ex-husband’sbrother. You’ll hate each other, but that isn’t important. I’ll send Clayton.”

“Miriam—”

She hung up.

I needed nothing less in the world than another person addedto the growing gang of people who wanted, it seemed, to control me. I didn’tneed saved, I didn’t need taught, and I didn’t need handled. I just needed themto leave me alone so I could figure out my life…and kill vampires.

I had no idea what was coming or how I’d handle it when itdid, but I was not about to let my supernatural friends turn me into a needylittle bitch.

They had doubts about my ability to deal with life, and if Iwasn’t careful, I’d let their lack of confidence affect me.

I already had, though, hadn’t I?

“No more,” I whispered, and untied the leather cord wrappedaround the package.

I held my breath, then pulled back the edges of the leather.

Silverlight was a sword.

It lay gleaming on its leather bed, beautiful and deadly andsomehow dark, despite its clean, sparkling brightness. The blade wasdouble-edged and looked sharp enough to cut my eyes if I looked too long at it.I held a finger over the blade, tempted to touch it, but something made mehesitate.

The black hilt was surprisingly plain, laced with silverfilament, which appeared slightly worn and soft, and though I didn’t touch it,I knew it would feel like butter.

There was a sheath beneath the hilt, a beautiful red sheath—sodark it was nearly black—and decorated with inlays of blood red stones andcarved lines and squiggles that stood out in the darkness in which they wereembedded. Words, I was nearly certain, but I couldn’t read them. More of the soft-lookingsilver filaments wound around the case, climbing it like strange ivy. The endsof the filaments trailed, lying around the leather like untied shoestrings. Icouldn’t imagine what they were for, but then, I didn’t know a lot about swordsand their sheaths, either. Next to the sword, it was the most beautiful thingI’d ever seen.

But that sheath, though stunning, was so small it wouldnever have held the sword.

I stared down at the gift, a gift from the vampire with whomI would be forever linked, the vampire I despised more than anything or anyone else.

And my mouth watered.

I wanted that blade.

Just as I wanted to hunt and kill vampires, I wanted thatblade.

But I wasn’t sure if the blade would want me.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my shirt and finally, I graspedthe handle of the sword. Tentatively, gently, I lifted it.