Alpha Vaughan

Chapter 35

Opening the door to the room, I was met with a pissed Vaughan.

He drew drew closer to me, then bent so his eyes were the same level with mine. "Where were you?" he asked lowly.

"Out looking for clues on where the vampire might be," I answered.

His eyes flashed yellow, his nostrils flaring. "Damn it, Hilda! We're not safe. If the vampires are planning to war with our kind, they're sure as hell going to keep the main figures in sight. Which includes you, Hilda. You're not a shewolf of the Stillmoon pack anymore, you belong to Beastclaw now. And under the recent circumstances, this makes you a prime target."

Holding his gaze, we stared each other down at length, until I said. "Hiding away won't solve anything."

"Being careless won't, either."

"I wasn't being careless! If anything I was helping!"

He folded his arms over his broad chest. "How so?"

Inhaling, I started to tell him about the news this morning and the meeting with the women at the restaurant, ending with, "There."

He went over to perch on a large table, raking long fingers through his dark hair. "There seems to be some sort of pattern."

"Yeah," I said. "I mean, it's pretty telling. The murders were all committed at high profile events. Seems as if this vampire's partial to millionaires," I finished sourly. It was like that demographic of mortals made up some sort of special menu for the vampire, and judging from the fact they drank blood, it probably was.

"There's a popular belief among the vampires that feeding off a powerful person will strengthen you immensely," he told me.

"And I don't think the Link's done preying on these powerful people." I held his gaze now. "We're going to beat them at their own game, Vaughan." Turning away to go have a shower, I said over my shoulder, "Prepare, for we are going shopping!"

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Like every other average male on planet earth when it came to shopping, Vaughan wore an expression of absolute grief--or at least oozed absolute grief, one could hardly tell from the expression, or lack of, on his face.

Nevertheless, it washed off him in waves--which made me enjoy the shopping experience even more. Giggling in high spirits, I grabbed a cowboy hat off a stack and placed it on his head, drawing back to examine him with a grin. "There. Now you look even hotter." When I realized what I said, I flushed. "Not that--"

A slow smirk stretched his lips. Raising a brow, he took off the cowboy hat and positioned it on my own head, a wicked glint in his eyes. "There," he said, "Now you look ready to ride." At my beet red face he added, "A stallion of course."

A woman approached me and started to lead towards another section. Then she started to speak rapidly, her throaty French accent evident, "Come have a look at this dress, Madame. It'll bring out the magnificent colour of your eyes. Or this, look at this dress, Miss. It'll mold your spectacular curves to perfection. And these masquerade masks I have..."

Her voice trailed to the back of my mind as I followed her around, sampling and checking out clothes. By the time she was done talking, my hands were full with numerous clothes, masks and shoes.

Then the woman motioned to Vaughan, "Now, if the monsieur would just follow me..."

Pulling open yellow velvet drapes, she led us into an almost empty section. Sunlight poured in through full-length windows lining the walls. At a corner in the space was a long brown sofa, and a distance before it was a long runway.