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Anya hates vampires (with good reason). Cam is a vampire—who saved her life. What’s a girl to do?
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She tried to hide it, but I saw the sadness on her face, heard it in the words. “What happened?” I asked gently, lest I spook her yet again.
She shrugged. I watched as she toyed with the stem of her wineglass, long, narrow fingers twisting the blown glass. I imagined those fingers touching me instead, and I pushed away the urge to glamour her. She was right; I could use the power of my will to bend her, to convince her to do whatever I wanted, regardless of her opinion in the matter. I could, but I didn’t want to. Where was the challenge in that?
“Tell me,” I urged. “Please.” Christos, when was the last time I’d said please to anyone? I hadn’t needed to, not in many, many decades. Closing in on a century.
As she sipped wine and apparently debated whether to open up to a perfect stranger who was, in fact, one of those vampires she feared, I watched the vein in her neck pulse, imagined sinking my fangs into it, could almost taste her blood mingled with the tannins of the wine. My cock swelled, and I shifted in my seat. This was not the right time nor place, and this was certainly not the right woman.
Admittedly, seeking dinner—and a companion for the night—should have been part of the reason I’d joined the throng of revelers this evening. But that hadn’t been my objective. I hadn’t lied when I told her I disliked crowds, and there were plenty of other places I could have gone to find a meal and hopefully more than mediocre sex.
I had heard whisperings, strange stories of unrest, of rogue vampires who threatened the sometimes uneasy peace my kind had with humans. While we considered ourselves stronger, better, and generally above humans in the food chain, the facts couldn’t be denied: We needed humans to survive. They carried our food in their veins; their blood sustained us. If we did not treat them with at least a modicum of respect, they could take away our direct link to our sustenance.
It wasn’t uncommon, unfortunately, for some sort of battle to flare up between us and the humans every few generations, but I had no wish for it to occur on my turf and under my watch. I owned Chicago—at least the vampire covens who resided in Chicago—and they were required to play by my rules. While many considered humans to be playthings, I insisted they at least be willing playthings.
So I had become obsessed with figuring out the source of these undercurrents, determined to squelch the problem before my calm, controlled city fell into chaos. As a result, I’d put off feeding, ignoring the hunger pangs, too focused on my latest project.
Discovering Anya manhandled by those two pitiful excuses for human beings made me react before thinking. I’d saved the girl instead of accosting the bad guys. I should have been more concerned with capturing the assholes so I could drill them for information. Their presence, the comments about forcing her to become a blood courtesan, meant they were somehow connected to vampires. And more importantly, it meant someone was invading my turf.
I sure as hell wasn’t about to let that happen.