Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
The vampire finishes the demonstration and unties the girl, directing her to put away the rope and sending her off with a smack on her ass. A growl lodges in my throat. Fuck, I’ve been standing here staring for far too long.
“Like what you see, shifter?” a vampire lisps at my side. “Maybe you should try it.”
I wait until the redhead disappears into a private alcove before murmuring to my unwanted conversation partner, “Sure, Benny. How ‘bout on your dead body?”
The vampire Benny draws his teeth back, showing fangs. “The name’s Benedict.”
“I know.” I tilt my head to the side, already bored. Benedict is one of the younger vampires, turned only a century ago, pale and thin like he’s dying of fucking consumption. Maybe he was when he was turned. “I gave you a nickname. If I was unfortunate enough to be named Benedict, I’d fucking embrace an alternative.”
Benny’s eyebrows shoot up. I’m careful not to look in his eyes, but I can tell he’s upset by the way his chest rises and falls like bellows.
“Careful, bear. You may have the king’s favor, but you’re no match for a vampire.”
“That’s what you think,” I mutter, and shake my head when he snarls. “Get outta here, fangs.”
“Why you—” he huffs.
I curl my lip and give him my back for a solid second before walking away. The worst insult to a vampire: turning your back like he’s not a threat. Most shifters would never do it.
I’m not most shifters. The vampires have no idea. They talk down and taunt me, completely clueless. They don’t know what I am, what I’m capable of. And when the time comes for me to hunt them, they won’t understand what’s happening. Not until too late.
I head back towards the bar.
“The king wants you,” the bartender tells me and nods to the throne in the middle of the room. So Frangelico has decided to grace us with his presence. I pivot and trudge back to see the boss.
The throne is on a raised platform. It’s an actual medieval throne, imported from Italy or some shit. Frangelico’s old stomping ground. You can take the vampire outta the Middle Ages but you can’t take the Middle Ages outta the vampire.
A slender young waiter in black tuxedo pants, red cumberbund, a black velvet choker and nothing else, beats me to the throne. He bows at the waist to offer up his tray of beverages. Frangelico extends his hand beyond the throne and browses among the glasses, selecting one and motioning the waiter to move on. The waiter backs away, still bowing.
Oh for fuck’s sake. I roll my eyes. So much pomp and circumstance. I guess if you’re practically immortal you have time to indulge in all the ceremony you like.
The waiter turns and leaps out of his skin at the sight of me. His face pales, his Adam’s apple bobbing under his collar. The black velvet chokers are part of the uniform here, but I’d kill any vampire who made me wear one. I’m a bouncer for contract, not a fucking slave. Maybe it’s time to remind the king of that.
I saunter around the giant wooden chair and meet Frangelico’s amused glance. No sneaking up on the king.
“Grizz. So nice of you to join us.” He waves a hand and two men in chokers arrive with another ornate chair for me—smaller than the throne, of course. Sitting in it would put my head a full two feet lower than the vampire king. So I don’t sit. Instead, I prop my boot on the seat. Frangelico sighs.
“Must you put your feet on the furniture? I’m sure we can find you a footstool if you like.” Frangelico snaps his fingers and motions to one of the servants. I catch the man’s shoulder before he kneels down on all fours in front of my chair.
“No,” I growl. “Stop it. You know I’m not into this shit.”
“Of course.” A flick of the king’s fingers and the men disappear. Frangelico leans forward. “I forgot how much you dislike our little power games. But what is sex about if not power?”
I shake my head. I don’t have time for this. “You wanted to see me?”
Frangelico sits back and studies me. Even with him seated and me standing, he’s still slightly taller. The vampire is bigger than you’d expect, and for all his fancy talk, he’s not stupid. Power isn’t a little game to him. It’s the only game, and he plays to win.
“I did, my friend.”
I flinch at that. Fuck, are we friends? I contracted with him to watch his club at night and keep an eye on a few of his operations. In exchange, he gives me what I need to do what I gotta do.
“You take offense at me calling you friend?” the king asks. Can’t hide a thing from a fucking vampire.