by Anne Malcom
Hence why I didn’t spare Thorne a glance. Such an action, no matter how small, would give them an inkling that I thought of him as anything more than a blood bag.
Which was why I didn’t blink at what he was doing to the body.
He was doing it because there was a sick sort of enjoyment, obviously. It wasn’t a candy bar in his pocket—but it was a test. Likely used before to weed out any weaker vampire. Or expose a spy.
I was a lot of things, a lot of wonderful things and depraved things. A weaker anything, I was not.
So I kept his eyes and kept my humanity, however small it was, buried in my own skeleton-filled closet.
Thorne did the same.
Lucky for both of us.
“Sure,” the vampire said finally, his voice curling with a thick Boston accent. “We’ve always got room for a specimen so… delicious.”
I grinned initially because I thought they were talking about me—I was a delicious specimen. But I hid my frown well when I realized they were talking about Thorne.
That pissed me off, though not for the sake of vanity—I didn’t need a corpse-fondling, weird-skull-shaped psychopath to tell me I was delicious. I only needed one man with a human heartbeat who was currently getting eyed up by the aforementioned psychopath to tell me that.
I slid smoothly into the booth anyway, yanking Thorne down first so I sat on his knee.
I made the gesture look derogatory instead of like he was the one in control. I smiled at the vampires. “I like to multipurpose my meals,” I stated. “I’m not a fan of nylon booths. They’re sticky.” I screwed up my nose.
The bald-headed vampire crossed his leg, inspecting me.
“What’s your name, sweetness?”
Again, he wasn’t talking to me.
Thorne stiffened, but thankfully they took the gesture as fear and not the fury it was. Not as perceptive of the human condition as they could’ve been. That and Thorne was exceptional at hiding his emotions.
I patted his cheek with what someone might call a slap, or a punch, but that someone wasn’t a pissed-off female vampire so it was fine. “Oh, he doesn’t speak,” I said airily. “I cut his tongue out. You know, those humans with the big muscles and broody stares, always trying to alpha their way out and into things.” I gave the men around the table a pointed stare. “And I needed to make sure he knew who was boss.”
My words were carefully chosen. The vampires around the table, save for Weird Skull, were all younger and weaker than me. Which was the reason for the particularly brutal actions this girl obviously had to endure before her death. The weakest of us all always tried to hide that by committing atrocities disguised as strength.
They needed to know I was stronger, and that I wasn’t afraid to let them know that.
In the form of ripping some heads off if need be. I decided it would be the sandy-haired vampire across from me wearing a cheap suit and too much aftershave.
There was no excuse for poor tailoring.
The silence was heavy at the table before Weird Skull nodded once.
“Admirable. These humans are prone to too much chatter. And begging. I prefer to crush the windpipe,” he remarked.
I nodded in approval. “Works too. But sometimes they can’t breathe and then they die too quickly. I’m all about delayed gratification.” I grinned, hoping no one wanted to see the tongueless wonder.
No matter how much alpha bullshit Thorne uttered, I’d never cut out his tongue. He was far too good with it when he was using it for evil and not for good.
And I kind of loved him, I guessed.
Weird Skull grinned, abandoning his fondling to sip from the glass of blood in front of him.
“Indeed,” he muttered. He nodded to his friends, dressed in cheaper and more ill-fitting suits. One actually had on a red polyester shirt underneath, which made me even more excited to kill him later. “This is Lukas, Stefan, and Jakob.”
He returned his gaze to me, though not before it flickered hungrily over Thorne once more.
I gripped my now-empty glass tightly.
“And I’m Orpheus,” he said smoothly.
Totally fake name, considering the Greek origin of such a name and his accent. Then again, his accent was likely fake too.
“Weird Skull is so much better,” I murmured.
His brows narrowed. “What?”
I grinned at him. “Isla, cursed to make your acquaintance,” I said instead.
He perused me, eyes going over the red hair that was piled messily at my head.
I could have lied and made up a name. But I’d worked hard at dragging my reputation through the gutter for four hundred years, so I’d totally risk a bloodbath at having him recognize it. A bloodbath was coming either way, anyway.
“Isla,” he repeated, tasting the name on his lips and deciding whether it was going to be instant or delayed gratification.
I leaned forward to snatch the glass from his grip, casually bringing it to my lips and preparing to drink. That was before the waves of Thorne’s revulsion made my stomach turn and rile so violently it was almost as if the reaction was my own.
I didn’t outwardly react, or even pause. I continued to bring the glass upwards and pretended to drink, even though the blood that stained my lips repulsed me. Which was strange, even considering I’d had a healthy snack on Thorne’s blood earlier that night.
A vampire with blood was rather like a Labrador with, well, anything. You couldn’t really get enough or get ‘full.’
But I reasoned the connection I’d mostly enjoyed as a side effect from the blood was the reason. And some of that pesky humanity escaping from my skeleton-filled closet. I guessed it wasn’t hard; the thing was a walk-in and it was still overflowing.
The vampires luckily didn’t notice me faking it—men never did—as I demurely wiped the blood off my lips with the back of my thumb, idly smearing it on Thorne’s chest.
I hated myself a little at that moment, using every ounce of my mental strength to block Thorne’s reaction.
“Happy to have you at our table, Isla and alpha,” Orpheus said finally.
I smiled back, showing fang. “Oh, we’re happy to be here.”
Delayed gratification it was.
The blood would come.
It always did.
The evening passed completely and utterly unpleasantly for the next hour. I had to play evil and go with the conversation, all the while demeaning Thorne enough to play my part and yet making sure no one drew his blood.
That’s where Sophie’s little spell would fail. The vampires would smell the truth in the blood immediately.
Wasn’t that always the case?
It was likely in the blood that we’d find the truth tonight, but I first had to find the right one to keep and torture before I killed the rest.
That was Scott’s and Duncan’s jobs too, to idly and subtly ask questions about the revolution without sounding like spies.
“Anyone got any fuckin’ idea where I can join this rebellion that’s brewing? I always like to be on the bloodiest side of the fight, and that king sounds like a right tosser,” Duncan’s voice boomed over the crowd, though it wasn’t hard since he was yelling. “And lording it over these measly ants is preferable too,” he continued, squeezing his human so she elicited a painful squeak.
Duncan’s version of subtle was brazen crassness, which worked exactly as it should—who would believe a spy would be dense and bold enough to walk into a bar full of enemies and shout so?
A single moment of silence followed Duncan’s question, and then the steady hum of conversations from supernaturals and whimpers of pain by their human counterparts returned. I watched a couple demons size Duncan up before sauntering up to him.
Success.
Scott had disappeared at some point. I really hoped the little idiot hadn’t gone and got himself killed, or in need of saving.
Damsels didn’t get saved here. They got drained.
Orpheus’s
eyes had been on Duncan. “Idiotic,” he muttered.
I followed his eyes. “Oh yes, the way he’s draining her, hardly effective,” I commented on the human tucked roughly into Duncan’s arm, deliberately misconstruing his meaning.
I knew Duncan had less problems than me with killing innocents—he was a hitman for hire, after all—but I also knew that he would most likely try to get the human out unscathed if he could.
He’d likely drain her himself if he couldn’t, but the thought was there.
“No,” Orpheus scoffed, glancing back to the table. “Declaring so publically his allegiance. Even here, there are those who sympathize with the monarchy, who would wish to remain in the shadows.”
“Well, the lighting is much more favorable on unfortunate skulls in the shadows,” I returned, grinning.
He gave me a quizzical look at the insult, but I continued before he could figure it out. “Yes, I do agree. For such a revolution to be successful it must remain where we’ve been undutifully banished—the shadows. Until the last moment, at least, and then emerging as a force that will overwhelm the enemy so no chance can be given to the traitors.”
I leaned back, circling Thorne’s neck and licking down the side of his jaw, brushing it with my fangs but being careful not to puncture the skin. I glanced back up to the rapt and hungry eyes on me. “But that’s just my two cents. It’s not like I’m sitting at the naughty table to give war advice. Just wishful thinking.”
He gave me a long probing look. “You have interest in overthrowing the monarchy?”
I shrugged. “Crowns are made as accessories, not weapons to sit on the heads of weak vampires governing our race. And humans don’t deserve to even think they rule the world, even though we know they do not. That’s not good enough. They need to know they don’t.” I smiled. “They need to know their place, which is beneath us.”
I gave Thorne a pointed look. “Before we drain them, of course.”
Orpheus continued to gaze at me.
The look told me I had the right man.
I just had to play it right.
“And it’s between fashion weeks, so I’ve got some free time,” I added. I stood, dragging Thorne with me. “I’m going to hit the little girls’ room, and hit him hard.” I trailed my fingernail along Thorne’s taut bicep. “I’m into sharing my meals, but not into sharing my orgasms.” I winked. “But you’re welcome to play after he’s done and drained. We can talk about this more when I’m less… pent-up.”
A fresh wave of Thorne’s fury washed through me at the sickening gazes I got from the less well-dressed vampires at the table. Interestingly, the fury at my talking of orgasms and the leers I got with that was on par with watching the brutality of the human race before us.
So he didn’t like that. I’d store that for later.
Orpheus nodded once. “Oh yes, I’ll take you up on both of your offers once you return.” His eyes hungrily roved over Thorne in a way that I did not like.
At all.
My own fury found its head. Only I could look at Thorne like that. Yet another reason to make his death slow.
I winked at him. “Sounds like a plan.”
Then I dragged Thorne along with me, not even glancing at the death and despair being dealt around me.
I registered it, though. The total number of humans in the place: seven alive and able to leave that way, three too far gone. And six already dead.
Six demons. Ten werewolves. Fourteen vampires. Eight witches.
And a partridge in a pear tree.
Not really a challenge, especially with me feeling more than on top of my game and with Thorne, plus Duncan. Scott would likely trip over a corpse and stab out his other eye.
Hopefully he’d kill a demon or two while he did so.
The bathrooms were separated individually for purposes exactly like I’d explained, moans of pleasure and screams of pain coming from behind the closed doors.
I didn’t slow my gait. Nor risk even a glance at Thorne.
One door at the end of the dimly lit and red carpeted hall was open.
I closed it firmly behind us, locking it and registering the room. It had a cubicle for the facilities, a small rickshaw bed with bloodied handcuffs attached and a very cheerful piece of artwork on the wall depicting the Devil rising from the underworld and feasting on children.
I took out the small crystal Sophie had given me before she left and crushed it in my hands. The blood that came from the shards mixed with the magic she’d encased inside to enshroud the room in a slight fog that would work like magical soundproofing for the next ten minutes or so.
“Okay, we’re good,” I said to Thorne, deciding not to meet his eyes and see myself, three hundred years before, reflected in them. Not wanting to see his reaction to my truest self in his eyes.
We had a job to do.
Killing came first.
The rest could come later.
Or leave later.
“We’ve got the right guy in Weird Skull. Though I think there’re a few lowlifes to pick from if we feel the urge. I think it’s best to get someone who’s the highest up we can find. They’ll know more and I won’t have to get the blood of insignificant lackeys under my nails. It’s so hard to get—”
I was cut off by Thorne advancing, then pouncing on me. It was the first time he’d well and truly caught me by surprise, mainly because I’d been studiously intent on the children-killing painting. His mouth met mine and hands tore into my hair with ferocity that I hadn’t even imagined.
And I was pretty good at imagining ferocity.
The kiss sent all the emotions, his and mine, that I’d been shielding myself from rushing back in. Like a waterfall, they showered over me.
I couldn’t even distinguish Thorne’s from mine, nor properly catalogue them. There was only one that mattered, anyway.
Need.
He lifted me easily and my legs wrapped around his waist without hesitation, never breaking the kiss. He didn’t go for the bed, slamming me brutally against the wall instead, so hard the plaster cracked and the painting beside me went crumbling to the ground.
I barely noticed.
My attention was on Thorne’s hand supporting my ass while the other ripped my panties off.
I let him take all the control, the control I’d snatched from him all night. Or pretended to, at least.
My nails scratched at his back, catching myself at the last moment from drawing blood. Though that was all I ached to do.
That was all every single one of my instincts screamed at me to do.
But they were silenced when Thorne slammed into me so hard my head smacked against the plastering, cracking it further.
The plaster or my head, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care.
Thorne filled me with his warmth and his love, combined with his disgust and anger, all accumulating to the most angry, violent and delicious sex I’d had in… ever.
That was a mean feat considering I’d had a lot of good angry, violent sex over the centuries.
The great stuff was only in the past few months, and exclusively with Thorne.
But this topped them all. I screamed my climax into his kiss as his body tightened around me before he gave me all of his release.
His forehead rested against mine while he was still inside me, eyes on me. And it was another one of those moments, ones I shared exclusively with Thorne, where the world fell away, as did time itself, and we slipped into one of those crevices reserved for secret lovers.
And then we climbed out.
Or more like clawed our way out.
Thorne’s mouth pressed to mine for a closed-mouth kiss before he slipped out of me and set me on unsteady feet.
I blinked rapidly as he fixed himself and then me, pulling my skirt down with incredible tenderness, which had been absent before.
“Not that that wasn’t….”
Thorne’s eyes darkened, telling me it was exactly the same for him. Thankfully, so I di
dn’t have to find the words.
“We were meant to use this time, and that spell, for planning on what we were going to do next. Not that I ever like doing what I’m meant to do. I despise it, actually. And plans. And kitten heels,” I added as an afterthought. “But we might need one. A plan, not a kitten heel. No situation calls for that. A plan, maybe, in this one.”
Thorne clenched his fist, fingering the blade at his waist that was hidden by a glamour that would likely fade in the next hour or so.
His eyes glowed with something, an emptiness that impressed me. “Oh I’ve got a plan. We kill them all.”
It was such a reverent promise that I was silent for a moment.
Then I grinned. “Sounds like the perfect date to me.”
Chapter 6
We returned to the table, me sans panties but thoroughly satisfied. The scent of sex had cut through the blood and destruction in the room, so we had caught more than a few eyes on the return walk.
Not that sex hadn’t already permeated the air, but even I recognized now that whatever we had was more. It was a lot more.
And it was noticed.
Luckily not for what it was.
But for something.
“Not-so-gentlemen,” I greeted the vampires at the table.
That time I slid into the seat, leaving Thorne standing.
I grinned at Orpheus. “I don’t think he can physically sit after what I just did. But we don’t need him for that at the moment anyway. He’ll just stand there like a good little pet until we need him. Promises, after all. And I always keep them,” I lied. “And he’s all yours once we discuss… other matters,” I purred.
His hungry eyes flickered over Thorne with a warm malice that sparked a fire of rage within me.
I knew Thorne could, and would, defend himself, but I felt a visceral need to do that too. Protect him. Us. Anything that threatened to bring back that silence that wasn’t the thundering of his heartbeat.
“Oh I think that arrangement is more than satisfactory,” Orpheus said, focusing on me.
I leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. “Of course, that only stands if I’m talking to someone who is more than a lapdog.” My eyes flickered over the cheap suits. “I’ve already got one of those, plus a pet werewolf chained up at home. My taste in associates is like my taste in shoes—expensive. Meaning I want someone who is going to give me more bang for my buck. You know, get me in with the right people so I can kill some things that actually matter. I’m a classy girl, no mediocre blood bar bombing for me.”