“What?” He chuckled. “That’s not enough gossip for one day for you?”
“Have you heard where Sarah is right now?”
The humor left his features. “No, I overheard it from a few gossiping vampires. If I hear any more though, I will let you know.” He paused. “You’re not really trying kill her, are you?”
Karson waved out a hand. “I’d just like to have a little chat with her.”
Gerald’s eyes widened as he heard the truth beneath the words. “You can’t.” He leaned forward and muttered, “All the vampires she’s turned will war against yours.”
“I’m well aware of any issues it would cause, Gerald. You have no need to worry.”
Gerald scowled, slapped the towel on the bench, and folded his meaty arms. “Then why the fuck do I feel like I have every need to worry.”
Karson stepped outsideinto the cool night air. Streetlights pinched through the pitch darkness, spooling across the road. A few cars ambled by, but at this time of the night, in the seedy end of the city, the streets were relatively quiet.
Karson tucked his hands in his pockets and strode to his car. Ready to be done with the night. Ready to go home to her. He imagined curling in beside her warm body, breathing in her sweet scent, listening to the rhythmical thud of her heart, forty-three beats per minute, to be exact.
Karson heard a tap on the building rooftop as he caught a flicker of a shadow out of the corner of his eye. Vampires stalking him. He didn’t let on he’d seen them. He kept his stride casual, his shoulders relaxed. He rounded a corner and headed down an alleyway, out of sight from any passing motorists. After a short, dark stretch, there was a dead end.
Fine by him.
He halted as four figures leapt down in front of him, landing with the grace of felines. Byron and two other men, one dark-skinned and a shorter, broader-set lad with a mop of curls on his head. And a dark-haired woman, of maybe eighteen when she was turned. Three more landed in almost perfect unison behind him.
Karson didn’t look at them, but he could see two shapes out of the corner of his eye. The other was shielded directly behindhis back. Not ideal. It was more challenging to fight what you couldn’t see.
He raised his chin and smiled. “Gentlemen, and lady,” he said casually. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not here for a light-hearted visit?”
Byron took a step forward. The leader of the group. It was a self-assigned role. Anyone with a brain cell, a true leader, wouldn’t try to trap Karson.
Byron ran his eyes over Karson from head to toe and back again, feigning indifference to the power he must know Karson had. Maybe they thought seven would be enough to take down one. Maybe they thought lowborns could defeat the king.
Surely fucking not.
He was their king—even if he hadn’t turned them, this was his area, his kingdom. He didn’t want to kill these vampires; they couldn’t have been turned long ago or there was no way they’d risk confronting him. They’d be fast, but they’d lack the fighting skills older vampires possessed.
“We know what you tried to do to Sarah, and we’re here to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
A lazy smile curled the corners of Karson’s lips. “Oh, how very interesting. Tell me, how exactly do young lowborns intend to do that?”
If there was one thing these new-age vampires hated, it was being called a lowborn. Apparently, it wasn’t a politically correct term and it deeply offended. It would be a cold day in hell before he gave a damn about their feelings.
Byron’s lip curled in barely contained disgust. “I’m going to give you a warning, a chance—stay the fuck away from Sarah. If we hear of you looking for her, if we hear of you even glancing in her direction again, we will kill you.”
A war between vampires was the last thing Karson wanted. It was exactly what Sarah wanted. She was quick as whipped cats’tails and twice as clever. One on one, she was no match for him and she knew it. With an army of vampires she’d sired going against him, young and old alike, there’d be many deaths on both sides.
“Tell me, did she send you to do her dirty work for her, or did you take it upon yourselves in a misguided and ill-fated attempt to protect her?”
Byron’s eyes narrowed. The way he was looking at Karson with such contempt and wicked humor, it was as though he had no idea whom he faced. And that just wouldn’t do.
“You can talk about sending people in to do your dirty work! Word has it you’re working with a filthy witch.”
Karson felt his blood simmer deep in the pit of his stomach. “I’m going to give you a chance to walk away now, or you will no longer be drawing air,” he glanced at his watch, “past midnight.”
Byron snorted and jerked his chin up. The dark-skinned vampire swallowed and darted his eyes to the female. A few others looked nervous, but they all stood their ground.
“I think you’ve lost the ability to count. There are seven of us and only one of you,” the mop-haired prick said, his French accent heavy. Interesting.
Karson wanted to call their bluff, make them back down. “I can count perfectly fine, and I can also tell you, unless you leave, there will be seven coffins required in …” he glanced at his watch again, “about sixty seconds.”
