Deep Kiss of Winter Read Free

at immortal, but what he was exactly eluded her. Considering his size, he was probably a demon, or even a Lykae—those animals had begun prowling the Valkyries’ turf as bold as they pleased.
    Or could he be . . . a vampire?
    She trained her gaze on his chest, watching for the rise and fall of breaths. Seconds passed. Historically, the vampires had shunned Louisiana. Yet on this night her Valkyrie coven had heard that members of both warring vampire armies, the Horde and the Forbearers, could be out in the Quarter.
    What they didn’t know was why.
    His chest is still . Bingo. Vamp.
    Since his eyes were a normal gray and clear—not crazed and red with bloodlust—that meant he was a Forbearer, one of an army who didn’t drink blood straight from the flesh.
    Vampires who didn’t kill. At least, that was their mission statement.
    The Lore was still waiting to see how that worked out for them.
    Though Danii knew she needed to report back on this sighting, she couldn ’t take her gaze off him. What was it about this vampire? She was aware of only two Valkyrie who’d ever been with his kind. One still lived. Danii knew the danger; so why this attraction?
    Yes, he was breathtakingly cocky, with his leading-man face and broad shoulders, but she’d never been so absorbed by a male.
    Not a real one, anyway.
    Broken-doll Daniela . . . wanted . Him. A vampire.
    When he was almost directly below her, she noticed that he seemed burdened, preoccupied even. Hardly the expression of someone who’d been stalking her.
    But if he hadn’t been, then who—
    The unmistakable twang of bowstrings sounded behind her.
    She dove for cover, and a swarm of arrows sliced the air where she’d been standing. A second volley skittered against the brick where her head had just been, ricocheting off the low ledge wall.
    She recognized the creosote-like scent of the arrowheads. Poison on the tips, fire poison. Which could only kill ice creatures like her. Oh, gods.
    Without looking back, she vaulted over the side of the roof. When she landed in the alley below, she tore off at a sprint.
    The bows, the poisoned arrow-heads—this wasn’t a Lykae threat. Not a vampire attacking.
    Icere assassins were hunting her. My mother’s people. How had they found her?
    No choice but to flee, knew she couldn’t remain to fight. These assassins traveled in bands, and the number of arrows indicated at least half a dozen men.
    Even as she raced directly toward the mortal gauntlet, her mind rebelled. She hadn ’t seen another of her kind in centuries. I thought I’d be safe from them here.
    Her only hope was to outrun them, yet she knew how fast they would be. Like her, they were born of the fey—
    She dashed right in front of the vampire, nearly knocking him over.
    TWO
    MURDOCH HAD JUST RUBBED THE BACK OF HIS NECK, then peered upward, convinced he was being watched.
    He’d spied nothing, started on his way again . . . and almost ran over a small blonde in a skimpy backless dress.
    With lightning speed, she darted in front of him, sparing him the briefest glance. He caught a glimpse of high cheekbones and alarmed silvery eyes before she sped across the main thoroughfare toward another alley. A pointed ear had peeked out through the wild spill of her long fair hair.
    Pointed ears, silver irises, running too fast to be a human.

    An immortal—possibly one of them .
    That glimpse of her was all it took, and the chase was on. He hurriedly followed her into the alley, then traced, vanishing and materializing ever closer to her.
    Though small, she was swift as she navigated through a maze of shadowy blocks, heading toward the river. He was barely gaining on her.
    What kind of being could run as fast as a vampire could trace?
    As he neared, he made out finer details of her appearance. Her legs were taut and shapely under her short dress. Her bared back and arms were slim. She wore silver bands above her elbows, and elaborate braids threaded her long hair.
    She seemed