After beating the gray lugs into submission, he ducked a punch from Gargoyle One, who’d finally shifted into his stone form. Kraft captured the fist aimed at his face and held it while the gargoyle did his best to push through. A lot of grunting and swearing with his efforts.
“Well, hell. I’m Night Bloode. Happy now?”
Everyone around who’d been watching the fight with glee suddenly fled.
Gargoyle One opened his mouth and paused, probably getting a telepathic command from someone. “Sorry about the hassle. Come on in.”
“Who are you supposed to keep out? The Seattle Bloode?” Kraft released his fist and stepped back, smoothing his sweater and jeans. He would have put a hand through his hair, but then he’d look like he cared what he looked like. He did, but he didn’t want to appear as if his appearance mattered.
“Nah. New boss wants us to keep out some visiting reapers.” The gargoyle frowned. “You guys didn’t get the memo?” The large gray beast blinked and looked around. “You vamps can’t be in the same place together, right? Or you’ll start killing.”
“Yes, lots and lots of killing.” Kraft chuckled. “Talk about a good time.”
The gargoyles hurried away, back to their posts, while a few nearby mages shot Kraft dirty looks as they magically repaired the doors and reinforced the sound-proof spell.
He ignored them, interested in this new boss. Varu, Kraft’s patriarch, would be interested to know about this visiting reaper clan as well. All incoming vampires had to clear visits with both MEC and the sovereign clan in the area. That remained the Seattle Bloode, since Varu had no intention of taking over territory. He had too much to do working for Hecate and playing house with his pretty elf mate.
Kraft snorted. He would have much rather they made the grab for new territory. But Varu wanted peace between the Night Bloode and the Seattle Bloode, so peace it was to be.
That was if they could get that next Bloode Stone from that stupid artifact.
Annoyed all over again, Kraft did some shopping on the way to the Ribald Unicorn, intrigued with the herbal concoction Varu’s mate, Fara, intended to make. It smelled good to him, like earth and blood with a hint of mint and magic. Very fae, as opposed to Riley’s sexy earthiness flavored with lycan.
Fixated now on finding Riley, he’d get the rest of his shopping done after grabbing the female. Except a bunch of drunken sorcerers stopped him with a blood hex while witches and a few harpies bet on him to bleed out and die.
“Put twenty on it that I survive,” he called out as his eyes started to bleed.
“Done,” one them screeched then started cackling.
Ah, old school witches. They tasted much richer than the new covens all into flashy illusion as opposed to real power.
While Kraft dealt with the well-crafted hex and curse that tried to turn his joints around, the scent of Riley stole over his senses and distracted him.
So that when a druid tricked him into latching onto a living wand thrust his way, Kraft wasn’t ready for the magic to try to use his head to break through the concrete floor in search of the earth below.
It took him some time to make it topside again. Unfortunately, the fight had turned less enjoyable since he was now covered in dirt and bloode, looking a lot less impressive for his meeting with Riley, who stood with a few others nearby, watching.
Het met her astonished gaze and smiled. “Nothing keeps me down, you see?”
“Whatever.”
He chuckled. Still so mean. What a delectable female.
A flash of direwolf in her eyes dared him to draw closer. Despite looking like shit, the sense of his victory lingered, and she must have sensed that.
And then a feeling of loathing and animosity struck, freezing him in place. Something he hadn’t felt since falling under Varu’s lead, contained by the power of his patriarch and the Bloode Stones Varu wielded. His need to kill those not kin had been muted for months.
But now he felt all that hatred and thirst for destruction.
A vampire neared, one not kin. One Kraft had to destroy.
Nothing would get in the way of his prey and live.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Riley thoughtabout Talon’s question. How much did she have?
“Not much,” she answered. “The question isn’t what I can afford, but what you can afford to lose. If we don’t get that artifact back, the vampires will start a war with us. And they don’t always make distinctions between lycans and shapeshifters. Plus, your help will be seen as helping the Crimson Claw pack. I’d think you’d want to be in with the most powerful pack in the region.”
