Dragon Heir (Thea Grove Vampire Hunter Book 1) by Molly Webb

Author:Molly Webb [Webb, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-10T16:00:00+00:00

But what eventually yanks me out of blank, dark sleep isn’t a friendly voice or touch.

It’s the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.

I snap upright. A blanket tumbles down from where it was tucked around my shoulders. The clock on the shelf says it’s past midnight—dammit, I’ve been asleep for hours, and the crossbow is leaning up against the chair beside me. Anika, still sitting at the workbench, twists around to meet my stare, her face full of alarm.

“What was—”

But even as she speaks, the sound comes again, louder, followed by a scrape and crash; the tread of heavy boots; an animal snarl; another crash, closer this time.

“Turn off the lamp,” I hiss, drawing my sword. “Take the dagger and get out.”

“The emergency exit’s out there!” Anika squeaks.

Fuck. “Then hide. Fast.”

While she scurries under the desk, clutching the knife, I twist the lock closed on the workshop door and crouch beside the door in the dark, listening. Waiting. It sounds like someone’s going through the cupboards and drawers behind the cash register, throwing their contents to the floor, smashing dishes on the tiles. Whoever they are, they’re obviously not worried about stealth. It’s only a matter of time before they notice the door to the workshop hidden behind the pretty patterned curtain hanging across the back wall.

The footsteps range back and forth, crunching on broken ceramic. And then, inevitably, they pause. Coming closer. I let out a long, slow breath, waiting for the intruder to try the knob. There’s not much to that lock; I could pick it in about ten seconds flat. Well, whoever gets that door open is getting a faceful of celestial fire for their trouble.

But I hadn’t counted on their first step being to knock the door down.

It explodes inward, off the hinges, taking splinters of the jamb with it, and in the same breath someone’s on top of me, so fast I don’t have time to react, slamming me painfully into the corner of the workbench. Tools and gadgetry go clattering every which way, along with the hilt of my sword. The stink of rotting blood fills my nose.

Vampire.

I drive the heel of my hand into my attacker’s face with a rewarding crunch, but it doesn’t send him staggering back the way it ought to, prompting instead a hacking, gluey laugh. The next thing I know I’m on the floor, fighting through stars of pain to get back on my feet, and Anika’s screaming as he hauls her out from under the desk.

The sound summons a lightning bolt of terrified memory—what was left of Thomas Quinn’s face. It propels me back up, staggering, to hook an arm around the guy’s neck and haul him backward, away from her. But he flips me over his shoulder like a doll, sending me crashing into a set of shelves. It’s easier to scramble to my feet this time, and I throw myself at my enemy, but he dodges out of reach. I catch a fistful of his long coat,

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