I make my way into the heart of the club.Bodies tussle and shove me as I weave my way around the dance floor, past the bar and into a second dance area.With my back pressed into the wall so no one can come at me, I scan every inch of the room, searching for where they keep the blood bags.But there’s not enough light to differentiate human from hunter from vampire.I keep moving, trying to steady my heart, which feels like it’s going to thump out of my chest.
I need to do better, having my blood pump this fast is only going to attract unwanted attention.
I slip around another vampire and whoever its feeding on and finally spot Roman.
He looks horrendous, no wonder I couldn’t find him.He’s hardly recognisable, save for his enormous stature and mop of wavy dark hair.Though it’s more limp and lacklustre than waves or locks.But it’s his eyes that are the most startling.He used to have these dark infinite pools, so cold and endless.They’d suck you in, as inevitable as death.But now they’re small and beady and the kind of shallow that barely holds a shadow of his former power.
He’s handcuffed to a chair, blood smothers his shirt, several puncture marks litter his arms and neck, he carries purple bags under his eyes and cracks on his lips like he was born with them.
I almost feel sorry for him… almost.
But he tried to take everything from Morrigan, steal the crown and screw my family, and all while using me in the process, so he can go royally fuck himself.
I hang back until the vampire feeding from him unlatches and saunters into the club.
When no one else approaches him, I take my chance.He’s handcuffed so I’m safe enough.His head hangs limp.
“Roman,” I spit, pouring as much venom into my words as I can.
His head snaps up, his gaze unfocused as he tries to put two and two together.Of course I’d be the last person he expected to see.
“Pen?”he breathes, his words scratchy and hoarse.
“Yeah, Roman, it’s me.”
He tries to sit up straighter; his neck oozes blood, and I can’t help the way my lip curls and my nose wrinkles.I might have a sordid fascination with the plague that is vampires, but his neck is frankly gross.
“Some things are worse than death, trust me,” he says and tries to laugh, but his neck oozes with each choked huff.
I swallow down a gag.“Gods, just stop talking for a second and listen.I need your help.”
His dark little eyes widen and then narrow.There’s a flash and I know it’s the moment he starts scheming.
“Don’t even try and manipulate me, Roman, you’re not in a position to ask for anything,” I snarl.
“And yet, it seems you are in need of help, little princess.Tell me, what is it I can do for you?”
I scan his features looking for the lie, the scheme, but I can’t read anything other than curiosity.
I take a breath and explain.“I brokered a deal between three of your contacts, Lord Jeremiah, Mosel and Brinkley.”
“You…?Sorry, what?”he says, his eyebrows bunching.
“Oh, give over, is it really that surprising?I’m not entirely useless,” I snap.
Wait, I’m not, am I?
Gods, is that really what everyone thinks of me?Even Roman, at his fucking lowest, with no hope of escape, no contacts and facing certain death, thinks he’s more resourceful than me?
“I mean…” he starts, and then shakes his head, changing his mind about whatever he was going to say.“If you brokered a deal, why do you need my help?”
My shoulders sag.“I’m at a stalemate.None of them will hand over their property or contracts without getting what they asked for.And I don’t have any dirt on any of them to force their hand.I figured you always had dirt on your clients.”
He sits even straighter in his chair, pushing his shoulders back, that nasty little glint in his eye glimmering back to life.
“And what makes you think I’ll share anything useful?What’s in it for me?”
Is he for real?No pretence, straight for the payoff.I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.“I’m not helping you escape, if that’s what you think.I’m not stupid.”
