Chapter 1 #2
Kayla’s perfume lingered in the hallway even here.
It scented the air all over the fucking house, actually, and that was another reason I was glad to be taking some time out.
I was over all of this mate shit. First Nic, then Sebastian.
If it was contagious, I didn’t want to be anywhere near a source of infection.
We’d functioned as a family, a powerful family, for hundreds of years, and then two humans had wandered a little too close to the king and the prince and suddenly everything had changed. I shook my head. That kind of shit wasn’t about to happen to me.
Not again.
I was a soldier. I fought. I didn’t love.
Machines never loved.
I traveled quickly to my new place on the other side of town, sticking to the shadows, moving silently along streets where I only saw the odd drunk or the flicker of a curtain as it twitched back into place as I passed.
The odor of rotting garbage and stale piss filled the alleys I walked down as I searched for the address I’d memorized.
I climbed rickety metal exterior steps to a narrow metal platform that seemed barely pinned to the wall by large, rusty metal bolts that moved easily in holes that had become too big over the years.
Just as I pushed the wooden front door open, my burner cell rang in my back pocket.
It could only be Temple—only he had this number until Nic spoke to Jason.
I dumped my bag on the box that seemed to double as a coffee table in the room that smelled of damp and mold spores and spilled beer, and shoved the door back into place, wedging the swollen wood closed more than truly shutting it.
“Yeah?” I wasn’t up for a cozy chat just now. I had too much to think about.
“It’s me,” Temple said unnecessarily, and I glanced at the glowing screen for a moment, looking at the number displayed. It seemed safer not to assign a name. “I just wanted to run through the stuff one last time.”
Also, unnecessary. I’d done nothing but run through everything in my head as soon as this mission had been confirmed. If I’d forgotten a piece of information, it hadn’t been worth knowing in the first place.
“I know my job,” I bit out, the words short and cold.
“Humor me.” Temple’s tone held anything but humor, and I gritted my teeth against another curt reply. His neck was also on the line, and maybe he preferred to be over-prepared. “Backstory.” His word was a direction. A command for me to tell him who I was.
“Kyle Durg.” I forced out the last name.
What the fuck kind of name was that? What the hell was a durg, anyway?
Just sounded mindless. Maybe that was for the best. Anyway…
“From the Midwest. Nothing special in my family history. No vampire nest attachment. Turned by a rogue — not my decision. Hate all vamps. Happier to see them destroyed. Loner by choice. Happy to join the Blackbloods as long as their objectives match mine.” I could almost hear Temple nodding when I finished talking. He’d probably been mouthing along.
I’d memorized his fucking script almost word for word.
“It’ll be a story they’ve heard a couple of hundred times before.” Now he sounded distracted like his attention was already focused elsewhere.
I rolled my eyes. “It’ll do. It keeps me vague enough that no one will do any more searching.”
“Agreed. And you have all the details for your meeting tonight?” He was back to business.
“Esmé, second-in-command to the boss.”
Sebastian knew comparatively little about what I was doing to secure his place, but that was because ignorance was his best defense if anything went wrong. I could just be a rogue member of his family. It kept him distant and gave him plausible deniability if my cover was blown.
“Okay.” Even Temple’s breathing was quiet. “Don’t forget to be at the bar at the right time tonight. You won’t see me.”
But I had no doubt he’d be there, skulking in the darkest corners like he usually did, keeping a watchful eye on everything.
I had no idea why no one had taken Temple out yet.
He knew way too much about everyone’s business, but maybe he just didn’t look threatening enough. Nothing about him screamed danger.
Oh, but it really should have. Information was always power and that much power made Temple a very dangerous man indeed.
He hung up without saying goodbye, and I slipped my phone away.
Standing in this room hadn’t improved the atmosphere in here, and I shivered as the chill in the air worked through me.
That would probably be the last I heard from Temple if Nic was switching my contact to Jason.
Temple would probably still be pulling strings in the background, though.
He’d never step away entirely from a project he’d created and where he had stakes in the outcome.
There was a dive bar I could still meet him in an emergency, though. If anyone saw us there on an odd occasion, they wouldn’t care. They were too busy living under the radar themselves to pay attention to who else met up and traded information.
I was early for the meeting. Esmé. Her name ran round and round my head.
But what the hell was someone with such a delicate, feminine name doing so high up in the hierarchy of the Blackbloods?
I shook my head. Stereotypes aside, I didn’t give a fuck about how her name made her sound.
She was obviously ruthless enough to have made it into a position of power.
And according to Temple, she was my in.
I just wanted to scope this place out first, get the lay of the land. I never walked into a situation without knowing exactly what I was walking into—that was how I’d fucking died the first time, and even back then, I’d thought I was a careful guy.
Now I was careful times two. Sebastian and Jason laughed at me sometimes, but it was different when you’d expected to be turned. Out of all the elements of my backstory, being turned by a rogue while I was all but dying in what had passed for a hospital back then was the one true thing.
Nic had saved me when he’d found me. Or when I’d found him. I’d already done a lot of damage… Too fucking much damage. Things I’d never forget or forgive myself for, but Nic had set me straight and kept me moving in the right direction. That was why he had my loyalty.
The place where I had to meet Esmé was hopping.
Loud honky-tonk music blasted from outside speakers and motorcycles took up most of the space outside.
It was like the looking glass version of Leia’s bar.
Where Ben had created a wholesome, welcoming atmosphere there, this place was seedy and shadowed, and the obvious copper tang of blood made the air heavy.
But although the bar was crowded, the clientele looked mostly human — human with a heavy side of biker.
It didn’t seem the most obvious place for two vampires to meet, but I didn’t detect any immediate threat, so I entered and made my way to one of the empty booths at the back.
The vinyl was sticky as I sat down and slid farther in, and the tabletop in front of me was stained, chipped, and greasy.
A frayed paper menu, splattered with ketchup and fuck knew what else was the only thing on the surface, and I studied it for a moment before pushing it away.
I rarely ate, even for appearance’s sake, and I didn’t need to know the tired dishes this bar’s kitchen cranked out.
I could smell the burned oil anyway— and the stale meat fat that turned even my stomach.
I tapped my fingertips briefly on the table as I waited and resisted the urge to check my watch. It was casual here. I needed to be casual, anyway. Carefree. Anything not to draw attention to myself. I accepted a beer and marked the passage of time by the changing tunes on the outdated jukebox.
The waitress stopped by again, her hand on the notepad just barely sticking out of her apron pocket.
I shook my head. I wasn’t making an order.
“You been stood up, hon?” Her smile was big and forced as she snapped her gum. “That girl don’t know what she’s missing.” Her gaze skimmed me assessingly, but I wasn’t worried.
She wouldn’t remember me after she’d clocked off her shift. Making myself unmemorable was almost my superpower.
After she wandered away from the table, probably in search of a customer where she could actually earn a decent tip, I did check the time, and I had been stood up. Esmé hadn’t shown for our meeting.
But I didn’t move. I could have gotten up and headed back to the grungy apartment where I lived now, but then what? Instead, instinct kept me nailed to the spot. There was something in this bar… Something I needed to know. I just wasn’t sure what it was yet.
I narrowed my eyes, studying the shifting bodies in front of me, the barflies propping up the bar, the bikers hooting and hollering back and forth, and the women tottering on mile-high heels to the bar before returning, full of giggles and cheap, colored alcohol, back to their tables.
Gradually, the crowd started to thin, and the door banged open and closed with increasing frequency as people left alone or in groups. The night was drawing late. I didn’t check my watch again.
I didn’t need to.
“Last call.” A voice rang from the bar, an instruction to anyone who hadn’t finished drinking or who wasn’t drunk enough yet.
A few people made their way to talk to the bartender, and as they did, a woman slid into my booth, sitting opposite me and resting her shaking hands on the table between us.
After a moment of seeming disinterested where I kept my attention apparently focused on the rest of the room, I turned my gaze to her.
She had dark eyes, a brown so deep it was almost black in the low light of the bar, and cherry red, wild hair that reflected a riot of color when one of the constantly moving spotlights shone on it.
But she wasn’t Esmé. Gut feeling told me that much before I’d even studied her properly. My nose twitched. No… She smelled human. Except not. Her scent was tainted. She was something other. Human but not.
As she smiled at me, the movement stiff and almost blank, her eyes a little dull and glazed, I almost snapped my fingers as I realized exactly what had joined me at my table.
Fuck. She was human but she was also a thrall. She was addicted to vampire venom, and she’d be completely lost if someone didn’t turn her soon. I shifted away. I didn’t want anything to do with a fucking thrall. They were trouble with a capital T.
She glanced at my drink and licked her lips, drawing my focus to a lip gloss the same color as her hair. I pushed the beer toward her, the foam head sloshing over the side as I did. If that was all she wanted, she was welcome to it.
She looked at me expectantly, like I might start talking, but she was probably just hoping to be my next meal — or one of the courses, anyway. It certainly didn’t seem like a coincidence that a thrall had chosen to sit with the only vampire in this place.
I couldn’t help the bitter taste of pity as I looked at her, though. Her life was very much currently on the line, and there was very little she could do about it.
Nothing I cared to do about it, either.