My shoulders hunch. Even though it is nighttime and I’m nearly at the shitty hotel tonight’s hookup has chosen. It is a crap part of town, but I’m sticking to my decision to never go to a victim’s home. Hotels enable me to think of them as faceless, nameless food sources. It is less personal. It feels safer. And any little thing that lessens my guilt is something to hang onto.
“Hello, Ned.”
I nearly levitate out of my skin. My feet grind to a halt, and I glare at the vampire who has appeared right in front of me.
Tall. Blond. Thin. Blue eyes. Fancy suit.
Crap. It is Baltazar. Leader of the local flight.
“Hi,” I say warily. What does this fucker want? It can’t be anything good.
“I wanted to check on how you were doing,” he smiles insidiously. “A little youngling, all alone.”
I shudder and try to hide it from his all too knowing eyes. Fucking vampires. Apart from the whole needing to drink blood, and sunlight being a pain in the ass, I feel like an old human. A very old human. Yet to vampires, I am nothing more than a baby. I hate it.
“I’m fine,” I say with gritted teeth.
There is absolutely no point in telling him I’m not alone. I live with what feels like a thousand other people. Paranormal kin. My brothers in all but blood. And their assorted mates. Okay, none of them are vampires, but I’m not short of company.
And then there is Morgan and the kids. A whole other family.
I am not alone. Far from it. But a vampire is not going to see it that way and I’m not going to waste my breath arguing the point.
“Vampires belong in flights.”
His blue eyes are cold. His tone almost emotionless. He is acting as if he doesn’t care. But I can sense the threat. He doesn’t like that I am not under his rule.
I lick my lips. “The Grandmaster said I didn’t need to join a flight.”
“Silas feels sorry for you. Understandably.”
This motherfucker. I really hope that insult was aimed at me and wasn’t a sly dig at the Grandmaster. Though, calling him by his first name is giving me doubts. Oh for fuck’s sake, the last thing the paranormal world needs is another civil war.
I don’t like Silas. He is a necromancer, after all. But he seems to be a decent enough leader. And he helped Lello, so he gets my respect for that.
Add in the fact that he is holding a position of power while everyone knows about his traumatic past, well that is quite something. All in all, Baltazar is being a complete fucking asshat by insinuating that the Grandmaster is giving me leeway as a fellow victim.
But I can’t punch the twat in the face. He is like a billion years old or something. Far stronger than me, anyhow. Hitting him will only irritate him.
So I bite back my temper and wait to see what he says next.
He smirks at me. “Though, you are a special case. Killing your maker when so young, is quite something.”
My heart thumps. Then it thumps again. It starts to beat as if I am alive. I can hear my blood moving through thesmall veins in my ears. It is a surreal and very unnerving sound.
I stare helplessly up at Baltazar. A deer in the headlights. Too numb and dazzled to escape my impending doom.
Cold fingers trace under my chin. “It can be our little secret.” His head cocks to the side. “You are very pretty. I can see why he chose you.”
My vision blacks out. I can’t see a thing. I’m rooted to the spot. A statue carved of fear. Dread and terror are clawing at me. I’m helpless, so very helpless, and there is no hope.
“Ned!”
There are strong fingers wrapped around my wrist.
“Ned? Calm down. I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”
I blink, and suddenly I can see again. Baltazar’s blue eyes are full of concern and a smattering of shame. I wince and close my eyes again.
