“Thank you, master,” Zack said in a whisper.
A chilling, bone-deep cold brushed against Zack’s back and then enveloped him. A voice smooth as silk said, “Come now, you can do better than that, little one.”
Zack spun toward the source of the cold and the voice. His fists clenched; he couldn’t stop the instinct to protect himself.
The vampire was roughly six feet tall, and his eyes were bloodred. Drifting down to his shoulders, his pale blond hair seemed almost colorless against his porcelain white skin. He had the sort of beauty that was hard to hold in one’s mind, a startling level of perfection that hurt to behold. Maybe that was because of the predator’s edge in his smile or the unnatural grace with which he moved. He wore a billowing white shirt, the lace that would have held it shut across his chest was practically undone,and tight, black leather pants with matching heeled boots that came up to his knee.
As the vampire stepped forward, Zack took a step back and slammed up against the bar. That brought a chuckle out of the predator. He shouldn’t have been meeting the vampire’s gaze, but now that he had, he didn’t dare look away.
“Foolish, little one,” the vampire seemed to say. Zack wasn’t entirely sure the bastard’s lips had moved. “To stare into the eyes of one’s better.”
But then the vampire seemed to laugh like that was a fucking joke.
Seamus had made Zack’s skin crawl.
Anton made his heart freeze.
No wonder Roger has been terrified for centuries.
With slender fingers, Anton hooked two under Zack’s chin and tilted his head upward. Gently, he twisted Zack’s head this way and that, and though Zack didn’t take his eyes away from Anton, Anton examined him. “My, my. I am beginning to see what the fuss is about. A pleasure to meet you at last, Zackery.”
Zack kept his mouth shut. His hand threatened to tremble, so he clasped one wrist with the other hand.
At his side, Vincent had performed the kind of bow that Zack should’ve done upon spotting Anton. Nearly bent in half, he had one arm behind his back with his other wrist out as an offering. His head was tilted to the side, exposing his neck.
Anton ignored Vincent and took a step back to rake his gaze over Zack anew. He brought a hand to his own lips and trailed his index finger along his lower lip. “If I only had the time … and the right, I suppose. Nathaniel, you did well. That little pissant shouldn’t have been marring Roger’s treasured pet.”
“Thank you, master,” Nathaniel said with a grumble.
“This will leave us without a bartender for the evening.” Anton finally looked away from Zack. He sighed dramatically, then brightened. “Wait. You’ll do it.”
“The bastard’s already starting to stir, master,” Nathaniel said.
“He won’t be completing his duties this evening.” Anton snapped his fingers.
Two black-clad bouncers zipped around the bar and grabbed the bartender. They hauled him out from behind the bar and started to drag him off toward a distant door deeper in the club.
“Oh, I have a better idea!” Anton declared with glee. The bouncers stopped in their tracks and pivoted to face Anton. Putting his hand on Zack’s shoulder, Anton continued/ “Youmustshow us how it’s done.”
“How what’s done, master?” Zack asked carefully.
“You are a Wright, aren’t you? And a Gladwell? I surely don’t have to explain your purpose to you.” Anton grinned manically. “What am I thinking, you don’t have a weapon! One moment.”
Anton grabbed the nearest barstool and cracked it against the floor. Pieces broke off from it, but he took one of the legs and snapped it across his knee. Then he handed the fragment of wood to Zack. “Go on, then. Show us.”
Zack took the piece of wood. It technically had a sharp end, but it was far from a stake. The pit of his stomach hardened. Antonwantedhim to kill a vampire. This was clearly some sick game for him, but this was a chance to put down one of the undead. And could he even say no to Anton?
You can do this, the Cal voice in his mind said. And this time, it was repeating a memory. Every great once in a while, he’d shown he could be a big brother. They’d been training out in the yard. Zack had been twelve, Cal seventeen. After watching him, Cal had shaken his head and guided Zack through the best forms for staking a vamp.Power doesn’t come from the arm. Comesfrom the core. Silver gets the job done easy for you, but wood’ll work. Harder, though. You got to feel the movement coming up from your soul. And once you see the blow, do it. Strike. Never hesitate, little bro.
Anton wanted a dead vampire? Fine. As he stalked toward the vampire, Zack twirled the piece of wood in his hand until he found the better balance. The vampire hadn’t recovered, but that only made Zack’s job easier. He put one hand on the vamp’s shoulder and shoved the piece of wood in. Though he’d certainly pierced the heart, he regripped the makeshift stake farther down and shoved it another three inches into the vamp. Then he stepped away.
Everyone was watching, particularly Anton.
Zack made a sweeping bow, but not like a pet would. He stretched both arms out wide, one foot behind for support, and bowed at the waist with a dramatic flair.
“Marvelous!” Anton clapped enthusiastically, though he stopped nearly as soon as he started. “What a wonderful opening act. Oh, I should be on my way. First things first.”
With a sudden burst of speed, Anton grasped Vincent by the hair and pulled him up. There was nothing gentle in the way Anton bit into Vincent’s neck just below his collar. Vincent cried out, then bit his bottom lip.
