He shoved the door open to the bar. The place was pulsing with music and drunk revelers. The room reeked of booze, perfume, sweat, and hormones. A couple kissed passionately in the corner. Karson tore his eyes away, something that felt like longing panging in his chest. Stirring in his groin.
Walking out of Amelia’s room was not the hardest thing he’d ever done. That particular honor she’d already bestowed upon him when he’d stared at her with a cruel indifference as she’d begged him not to leave her. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to walk out then. He’d done it to keep her safe. Well, at least he’d hoped it would. He’d been wrong.Wrongwas not a word he normally assigned to himself; it tasted bitter in his mouth. It was not a mistake he would make again.
The look of need in Amelia’s eyes tonight had almost brought him undone. He’d heard her silent pleading and nearly given in. She always asked for so little, as if she felt she didn’t deserve to be treasured. He wanted to give her everything she craved, everything her heart desired, so she’d know just how worthy she was.
But with Sarah still on the loose, and the need to find the grimoire, his emotions, Amelia, and everything he wanted to do to her, with her, were a distraction he couldn’t afford.
The crowd parted like a wave as he stalked through. The humans didn’t know who or what he was, but most had an innate ability to sense a predator in their midst. Still, they were entirely oblivious that some of them were about to become a vampire’s late-night snack. This was a well-known haunt for vampires. He didn’t recognize some of the faces, but he wasn’t surprised. Portland was a popular tourist destination for his kind. And he’d spent so much time in Church Heights lately instead of Portland because he couldn’t stand being away from Amelia. The call to be with her was hard to explain. But when he wasn’t near her, he felt as if some crucial part of him was missing. Only when they were together, did he feel whole again.
A group of vampires in the corner watched him warily. Byron, a vampire he’d seen partying at various bars and clubs in the district, looked straight at him, his steel-gray eyes glittering with barely contained disgust. His blond hair was slicked behind his ears. There was a time not too long ago when no vampire would have dared look at Karson like that. But now, with cameras in every corner, he couldn’t exactly stride over and stab Byron’s eyeballs into his head. None of the group were any Karson had turned. Not that it mattered. As long as they abided by the rules, vampires were free to roam wherever they chose. He lifted his chin, straightened his shoulders, and met their gazes; they all looked away quickly.
A vampire nodded to him as he passed in a show of old-school manners that were a dying art. Gerald worked the bar. He looked aged compared to most vampires. When he was turned, he was almost fifty. Why any vampire would choose to work in a bar, Karson did not understand. But Gerald had done it in his human years, and he loved it. Six months after Karson hadturned him, he opened up his own business. Gerald needed to change cities every decade or so, otherwise people started asking questions about why he wasn’t aging. He’d been doing that for over two hundred years. He’d come back to Portland and opened this bar at the very far end of town a year or so ago.
There was no better place to hear gossip than a bar. Karson had covered just about all of them in the nights since Sarah had attacked Amelia.
Gerald looked up as Karson approached, reached into a cupboard, poured a shot of his finest whiskey, and slid it across the bar.
A vertically challenged blonde-haired girl sidled closer. She peered up at Karson under curled lashes so fake they looked like pubic hairs.
Not all humans had an inbuilt sense of danger. Even if they did, it was a sense that was easily overcome if Karson showed a slight edge of charm. With a look, a smile, all thoughts of him being a predator vanished, and they were drawn to him like bees to nectar.
Gerald’s gaze flicked over the blonde and he smirked, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he picked up a white cloth and wiped a glass.
“Hi, are you out alone?” the blonde crooned.
Karson didn’t bother to look at her as he answered dryly, “Yes, and I prefer it that way.”
She leaned her head to the side and smiled, flashing bright-white teeth. “You must be a criminal, then. Given it’s a crime for a guy as hot as you to be on your own.” She giggled.
Then she touched his arm. Touched his fucking arm …
He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to tear the girl’s hands from her limbs. “You should join us in the booth in the corner. I promise you it’ll be fun,” she purred suggestively, andinclined her head to another female watching them with a stupid grin on her lips.
He looked down, slowly, lazily. She peered up at him, and her gaze blanked, hypnotized by the dark, rotating ring in his eyes. “Why don’t you take your drinks and go to that guy in the corner, the one chewing his nails with sandy hair and glasses, invite him over to the booth and show him a good time.”
“Yes, I will show him a good time,” she repeated in a trance-like state. He didn’t bother to watch as she moved to the boy. He knew the boy, who moments ago was feeling uncomfortable and wanting to go home to his computer games and cat. He was about to have the best night of his life.
“It’s good to see you, it’s been a while,” Gerald said, grinning.
Karson took a sip of whiskey and almost sighed with relief as it glided down his throat. It had been a long night stalking the streets, checking the bars, known vampire haunts and empty buildings, searching for Sarah. Whiskey was not as good as blood, but it was as close as he’d ever found to dull the incessant thirst that chewed at his lungs, clawed through his veins, spread like wildfire through his body.
Earlier, he’d stumbled upon a young brunette walking home alone from work, and he’d fed on her, then left her with a warning about the dangers of walking alone in the dark. In another era, she never would have made it home.
Karson drained the glass. “I take it you know why I’m here?”
The grin fell from Gerald’s face. He shrugged a shoulder as he poured him another. “I’ve heard rumors. But you can’t believe everything you hear.”
Karson glanced around the room. The music and chatter were so loud, they made it hard for anyone to hear their conversation. Still, considering vampire hearing, he waited until he was sure no one was paying attention before asking quietly, “What exactly have you heard?”
Gerald leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I heard a witch tried to kill Sarah, almost got her too, and uh …”
Of course, Sarah would paint herself as the victim and try to cause a war between the factions, probably hoping he’d be too busy dealing with that to hunt for her. Karson didn’t think she’d be stupid enough to tell anyone about the grimoire she stole from her parents. If she did, everyone would be after her. Human, witch, and vampire alike. The instructions to spell the waters in Church Heights were in that book, a spell that could turn any human who drank it faster, more powerful, and immortal. It would make witches immortal, their magic stronger to the point where even vampires would struggle to contain them.
Karson clenched his jaw. “Spit it out, Gerald.”
“That you’re protecting the witch, and Sarah is scared of you because you’re the reason the witch tried to kill her.” Gerald straightened and scoffed, “I told them it wasn’t true. There’s no way you’d use a witch to do your dirty work, let alone harbor one.”
Karson kept his expression carefully neutral. He drowned the rest of his drink, savoring the burn in his throat. Better than the slow-burning fire building in his stomach. “Is that it?”
