Vampire In Her Mysts. Meagan Hatfield

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parted, revealing the pale flesh of a woman’s leg. An astonishingly long, slender leg. Yuri blinked. Certain he must be hallucinating from the loss of blood. Yet he remained fixed on the spot, waiting for the apparition to show herself once more. A heartbeat later, a bright flash of red fabric swished in the night, followed by the second bare leg until the woman stepped into full view.

      Although the heavy cloak she wore obscured her form, the brief glimpse of red ceremonial robes beneath it identified who she was.

      A Kalu.

      One of the holy women from the Samostan, a women’s temple devoted to the worship of the Goddess.

      Yuri regarded the girl intently, remaining alert even though she posed no real threat to him other than alerting any lurking vanators to his presence.

      With feline grace, the woman walked toward the water. The pads of her feet rolled from ball to heel with the elegance of a dancer. His sight in line with her ankles, he studied their delicate structure, the dip and curve of bone and flesh. Each step slid the cloak higher up her legs, first past her knee and then her thigh. Yuri eagerly explored each inch as it became visible. The curve of her calf, sway of her knee and slender thigh, each inch more enticing than the last. For a woman devoted to prayer and books, her body was more muscular than he would have thought.

      An arm reached back and up. In a deft move, the woman removed the hood, settling the fabric back on her shoulders. His gaze slid to her profile. Skin, so white and pure in the moonlight it could be translucent, glowed with the perfect luster of a pearl. In stark contrast, wave after wave of ebony hair flowed down the enticing curve of her back, resting at the dip of her hip. She looked ethereal. A goddess reminiscent of the one she worshipped.

      The female bent to the water’s edge only a stone’s throw away. With the grace of a soaring hawk, her pale arm arced over the water. Yuri caught sight of her wrists, slender and elegant, before she dipped her hands, plunging them into the lake and scooping up water. A moment later, the cloak fell off, pooling to the ground around her feet.

      Yuri’s heart skipped. Sweet Goddess, if he thought her magnificent before, she rendered him speechless now.

      He’d heard of the alluring, borderline erotic Kalu garment, but had never seen one. Slaves to the Goddess, the Kalu’s attire reflected such. Red arm covers swathed her forearms from wrist to bicep. A narrow piece of fabric crisscrossed over her breasts and curved, wrapping once around her waist, leaving an enticing amount of flesh exposed from her rib cage to her navel. Panels, no more than ten inches wide, hung between her legs to her ankles on the front and back. Deliciously bare, her hips and thighs were concealed by only two ribbons tied in bows at her hipbones. Another slim red ribbon collared her delicate throat.

      A sliver of moonlight peeked down from between the clouds, casting a hint of light upon her skin. Yuri’s eyes widened with each new inch of flesh the moonlight exposed.

      Tattoos.

      This beautiful creature was covered in them. They peppered her flesh, her abdomen, arms, chest and no doubt her back too if he had the opportunity to look. Suddenly, the desire to bare this female to his gaze and study her marked body besieged him.

      Unlike humans, who used tattoos the way a male peacock struts its plumage, in the Mysts, each tattoo told a story about the vampire who bore it, for good or ill. Some were put on the body by right, some by force and none were taken lightly. Every mark had meaningful and thoughtful placement. They spoke volumes about those wearing them. The tattoos identified where they were born, what class or horde they belonged to, what specialties they owned, or where their affiliations lay.

      In the same vein, if someone placed false tattoos on their bodies, claiming to be someone or something they were not, they would bring shame upon their clan, and in most cases find themselves exiled. That is, if a disgraced family member did not find and kill them first.

      Yuri looked down at his inked forearm, studying his own marks. The intricate design rippled as he flexed his grip on one of the weapons of his trade. Yeah, he knew all about those tattoos. But why did she have so many? Kalu were said to be marked as such, but he couldn’t imagine so heavily. Whatever her tattoos spoke about her, Yuri had the clawing urge to read, to learn, to know.

      Curious to see if his keen eyesight could make out any symbols or patterns in the darkness, Yuri glanced toward the woman again. His mouth slackened at the sight of her. The female had undone the ties around her neck and now bathed topless by the water. Even in the dim light, Yuri had no problem making out the perfect shape of her bosom. A small tattoo sat nestled in the valley of her chest. However, the flesh of her breasts remained unmarked. Crimped and tight, her nipples looked succulent, two raspberries ripe for the taking.

      A hammer of lust began pounding in his veins. A dangerous undercurrent of hunger rippled through him in its wake. The need to feed, to heal, overwhelmed him. His canines throbbed, lengthening on their own volition. A haze of red blanketed his vision. Yuri pinched his eyes shut, trying to get himself under control. He swallowed, groaning at the raw slide of his throat.

      A loud female gasp filled his ears.

      Yuri cursed beneath his breath. He’d been discovered. If the girl ran, in the state he was in, he’d never catch her before she reached help. Goddess knew what would happen if she sounded the alarm and let the entire Mysts know he was here.

      Out of options, Yuri grudgingly utilized the last resource he owned and readied to overtake the girl’s mind.

      Zeroing his gaze on the female, he focused on her eyes. Heat bored into his skull and within seconds, his medji self bombarded her mind and took control.

      Being one of the last psychic vampires in existence had its perks. But wounded as he was, he knew he couldn’t hold her still for long. He was already getting a sense of this woman and she did not like his mental invasion at all.

      Bracing his hands, Yuri pushed up to his knees, feeling pain crawl through him anew. Weak and wounded, Yuri forced himself to appear anything but to the female as he approached her. If the vibrations he picked up from her thoughts were even remotely accurate, she was skittish as a feral cat and had claws just as sharp. Yuri held his back ramrod straight as he neared her, even though his shoulder burned in protest and the unbearable need to vomit rolled through his gut.

      After two more steps, he stood in front of her. As his telepathic powers instructed, she remained motionless. Yuri wrapped his fingers around her upper arms, holding her physically as he prepared to release her mentally. But he stared into her face and hesitated.

      Dewdrop-shaped eyes of a color he’d never seen before locked on his, a flicker of willful intelligence sparking in their depths. Her eyes seemed almost iridescent obsidian with flecks of color that shifted with each play of light, very unlike a vampire’s flat black eye color. Her slender arching brows matched her high cheekbones. The sultry curve of her mouth instantly recalled the palace courtesans, lush, curvy and willing.

      However, her mind intrigued him most. He’d entered her psyche easily enough. She had not been expecting his attack and he’d slipped her mental defenses without difficulty. Yet, the moment he’d gained access to her thoughts, he’d felt her mentally pushing him back. Hard. It had taken all of his concentration to keep her immobile until he could reach her.

      Tightening the grip on her he’d let slacken, Yuri pulled out of her thoughts and released her mind.

      Like a deer sensing a lion, she instantly moved away from him, trying to run in the opposite direction. However, Yuri held

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