At the very end of the clip, Vincent flopped onto a couch and put his head into someone’s lap. He tilted his head back. His shirt was a gossamer, barely there layer, and the someone slid their nail down the cloth. The fabric parted, and a thin red line of blood beaded on Vincent’s chest. Vincent craned upward, whimpering into the touch. When his gaze refocused on the camera, his eyes had dilated and had a glaze.
Seamus had put him under his charm, increasing Vincent’s lust with his vampiric power.
“Gotta go,” Vincent murmured, a moan in his voice. He winked. “Master’s calling.”
The video had been posted the night before, closer to midnight. Something about it bothered Zack, but a third and a fourth viewing didn’t enlighten him. Was it the whimper? His trained biases creeping in and demanding that no one should look that happy as a sadistic vampire’s property?
Zack sipped his coffee and flipped over to Night Deets. It was a microblogging site closer in spirit to places like Reddit and Tumblr, where longer posts were possible but not preferred. People spilled valuable details all over the place. Profiles had an actual slot for “sire/curse-giver,” and people filled them out.If I’d had access to this while on the HIN, I could’ve answered so many questions. Zack had made an extensive “family” tree for Seamus’s coven primarily using details he’d found fromNight Deets. Of course, he was assuming that the information provided on the site was genuine. He hadn’t been able to verify every name he’d stumbled upon, but he had a pretty good picture of the coven’s bloodlines.
Including Quinn Turner’s bloodline. So far, Zack had traced a dozen vampires back to Quinn, which technically led back to Roger since he had sired Quinn. But would those vampires obey Roger as the hierarchy demanded? Or would they be like Quinn, angry that Zack had been raised a hunter? Would he have to face another ambush?
Zack pushed away the memory of the night he’d finally killed a vampire and focused on the present. He skimmed Vincent’s profile, but he wasn’t as forthcoming on Night Deets as he seemed to be on the Fang app. Zack was still betting a bulk of that was performance. What was genuine about the guy?
“Can I sit here?” someone asked.
Zack looked up from his phone. A dark-haired man with a chiseled jaw was standing beside the chair across his table. Blake had nicknamed this particular guy as EWE—Extremely Well-Endowed. Over the last few weeks, Zack had learned his name was Carver. Even in the cooler weather, he was wearing a tank top, light sweatshirt, and tight biker shorts, which were formfitting over his impressively sized dick. He had a few fading vampire bite marks, including an older one on his thigh.
“I guess,” Zack said.
Carver grinned at him while putting one hand on the chair back. He cocked his head to the side. “Only guess?”
Something about the way Carver was looking at him made Zack feel way too warm. Having a conversation with someone normal would be nice, so he took his laptop off the table and motioned to the chair. “Sorry, I’m in my own head. Go ahead.”
“Freaking out about the big move?” Carver asked.
Zack froze as he was putting his laptop into his bag, but he pushed past the mental barrier. Of course Carver knew that Roger was leaving town. Taliville only had seven thousand people; news spread fast.I’ve been posting about it, too.Zack managed a smile by the time he brought his attention back to the table. “Only a little.”
“Has to be exciting though. Chicago sounds amazing,” Carver said. “The parties are legendary.”
Dancing around the point was a fine art that Roger had told Zack he should appreciate, but he didn’t have the patience for it. Instead, he did his best impression of Josefina, a bored affect with a tone bordering on nonchalance. “Is there something I can do for you, Carver?”
“You know my name,” Carver said, his grin broadening. He put his coffee on the table and relaxed in his seat. His foot brushed against Zack’s and rested there with their ankles touching.
This was an openflirt. Carver had done something like this before, verbal instead of physical, and Zack had had a minor brain freeze over it.
But this was something he needed to get used to. Everything in vampire society was charged with sexual energy. However, his ingrained panic threatened to overwhelm him. He was supposed to be the watcher, not the watched. Anyone observing him could tell his cheeks were flushing. They’d be able tojudgeand he would be found ugly or repulsive.
The fear was ridiculous, but it was there and Zack couldn’t wish it away.
Luckily, Carver continued talking. “I’ve been wondering if I’ve been making an impression.”
“Impression?” Zack asked.
Carver’s smile dimmed, but remained. “With Roger.”
Quickly, Zack scanned the visible bite marks on Carver. His examination must have been overt because Carver laid his arm across the table and rolled his hand over to reveal a bite mark on his wrist around five nights old.
Zack didn’t have to look at his own, but he reflexively touched it. The marks would match.Don’t get jealous. Don’t.“He fed from you?”
“Four times, so far,” Carver said. “How’d you earn it?”
“Earn what?”
Carver gestured to Zack’s neck.
On instinct, Zack touched his neck and his hand smacked into the collar and crest tag. He wanted to wrench it off his skin once he remembered its existence, but he smothered that desire. The first time they’d spoken, Carver had suggested he could help Zack earn his pet collar by fucking him in front of Roger.
Zack put his hands around his coffee cup.Have they slept together?Did he want to ask the question? Did he need the answer? Zack had thought he’d kept a pretty good track of who Roger was feeding from, but there were times Roger didn’t drag him along to the donor house. Had he been hiding sexual partners from him?Don’t get jealous. Don’t get jealous.
