Demon Huntress

She giggled at her own wit, suddenly glad she'd decided to catch her own snack tonight instead of raiding the hospital's blood bank. Doc Ming didn't mind if staffers tapped a bag every once in a while, but she'd already s.u.c.k.e.d down two units of A-neg this week because she'd been too lazy to hunt.

"Are you waiting for a cab?" she asked, and her snack-to-be turned, startled. "I called for one an hour ago, and it never showed up. I have a very important party to get to."

He watched her through narrowed eyes. Maybe he wasn't as stupid as she'd thought. He was goodlooking, though . . . chin-length brown hair, full lips, five-o'clock shadow. Maybe she'd do him while she fed from him. Chen wasn't always available for a rendezvous in the hospital's supply closet, and Yuan acted as if she had a disease.

Now, Doc Ming. . . she'd pay to wrap her legs around that brother. Too bad he was a freak of nature, probably the only balberith demon in history who didn't bang everything he touched. As far as she knew, he took his p.l.e.a.s.u.r.es outside the hospital, because no one on staff admitted to screwing him or catching him screwing anyone else.

The man raked his gaze over her body, and she sensed him relax, though a low-pitched, unclean energy buzzed in the air around him. This one might be a Dark Soul, a killer of his own kind. A serial murderer, maybe a sociopath. His dark energy wasn't strong; he hadn't killed another human yet, but someday he would.

Perhaps she would dispatch the man, after all. Do humanity a favor.

"You can share my ride if you let me buy you a drink." He stepped closer, touched her elbow.

"I'd like that."

Glancing over his shoulder behind him, she took note of the passing vehicles, the people down the street. None paid any attention. Mouth watering, she shoved him into the alley, slammed him against the building wall. He grunted and tried to wrench his hand free of his coat pocket.

Her fangs ached, throbbed in time with the pulse in his jugular. She went up on her toes, sank her canines deep into his neck, and waited for him to stop struggling against her superior power.

The sharp sting of a needle in the back of her neck came as a total surprise. So did the knee to the groin.

The dark-souled one yanked her head away from his throat and hurled her to the pavement. Weakness turned her limbs to noodles, leaving her at the mercy of the man who crouched next to her, rage burning in his eyes.

"Filthy bloodsucker." He reached up, put pressure to the bite wounds in his throat, and if her heart hadn't already been shriveled, the sight of his ring, turned so she could see the berus shield etched into the band, would have done the job. "Do you know what people will pay for vampire parts? Bitch, it's time to reap what you have sown."

He smiled, and for the first time since becoming a vampire, Nancy knew terror.

***********

On the surface, Ming jie wasn't opposed to torture. Most demons weren't. Besides, his former career had demanded a certain amount of pain-giving, though it had been his duty to make sure the individual on the receiving end actually deserved the pain.

And really, he could respect torture as an art form—a skilled master could keep his subject alive indefinitely. Someone trained in medical sciences knew how to inflict the maximum amount of pain with the maximum amount of effectiveness.

So yeah, on a superficial level, he could appreciate his colleagues' discussion. Deep down, though, the part of him that had built UG from concept to the third-wing lava bath would rather see a body heal than be slowly taken apart.

"I have the perfect place to torture the Berus sc.u.m," cang jie said, kicking up his feet onto the break room couch. "My bas.e.m.e.nt is extremely uncomfortable."

Ming jie couldn't agree more. He'd seen the bas.e.m.e.nt in cang jie's three-story Suffern home, and while he hadn't been shocked to learn of the shapeshifting hyena's fondness for BDSM, he had been surprised at the size and contents of the dungeon.

"You wouldn't want to get blood all over that shiny rubber floor."

"It hoses off."

Blaspheme, a False Angel who truly enjoyed her ability to fool humans into thinking she was the real thing, shoved cang jie's feet aside so she could sit, and then took a sip of the iced tea in her hand. "So, cang jie, how often do you have to wash your floors?"

"Two or three times a week. It's not always blood. Petroleum jelly, honey, urine . . ."

Ming jie folded his arms over his c.h.e.s.t and braced a hip on the snack counter. "Nice."

Cang jie shrugged. "The females are almost always willing."

"The Hunter won't be."

"That's the point. I can make her talk. A few hours of hanging from my razor cuffs while I flog her will have her spilling her guts." He grinned, revealing slightly elongated canines. "Which will also hose off the floor."

A low growl brought Ming jie's gaze around to the doorway, where Yuan stood, his eyes burning gold.

"No one told me about the staff meeting."

cang jie didn't spare Yuan a glance. "Because you aren't staff, phlegmwad."

"This isn't a formal meeting, Yuan," Ming jie told him, before his brother could go off on their chief of surgery.