Chapter 3
Kyle
My gums ached from my fucking fangs pressing against them as I watched that ice-queen bitch drink from the thrall. She’d pushed her hunger to the edge and was on the verge of losing her control. But she pulled back just as her thrall went limp — right before she went too far.
I almost admired her self-control.
Almost.
But I’d never truly admire anything that bitch did. She was a Blackblood. There was nothing to admire in any of them.
I’d never had a thrall. Never wanted someone who wasn’t in control of themselves, but the taste of human blood straight from the vein… Fuck. My balls tightened just at the thought, of the memory of that beautiful coppery warmth filling my mouth and coating my throat.
It had been years since I’d allowed myself to drink in such an uncontrolled way. I always controlled myself now, in everything.
The thrall fell to the floor and Esmé threw herself into a nearby chair, her chest heaving and blood still sliding down her chin and dripping onto whatever delicate thing she was only half wearing. It shone in the light like satin.
But I couldn’t leave the human there like that.
I’d left too many humans scattered in my wake like worthless pieces of garbage.
Between being turned and meeting Nic, I’d only known bloodlust. An intense raw need to take…
to take so much… and sate my hunger. Aside from when I’d known love… But that had ended in carnage, too.
For a moment, Esmé had looked like she might succumb, like she might ravage her thrall, but she’d pulled herself back and left her alive, a glazed, smeary expression of bliss spread over her human’s face, the blood still glistening on her neck almost a perfect match for her ridiculous shade of red hair.
But I couldn’t leave the thrall —Sam —like that. Too many images assaulted me. Camille. I’d loved her. But I hadn’t been able to stop.
My fangs retracted at the memory, the ache in my gums becoming the thrum of guilt instead, and I bent to gather the thrall to me.
She needed to rest. Her bliss would be short-lived.
She was too far gone to feel the effects of the venom for any length of time that mattered.
Her body was emaciated, little more than a pile of bones held together by the skin stretched over them, in my arms.
“She’ll sleep now.” Esmé surprised me when she spoke, and her eyes were calculating as she watched me draw away from her pet. “Come with me, and I’ll show you around.”
I glanced at the inside of the hovel where we were, and Esmé laughed.
“Oh, this is only Sam’s quarters. I live downstairs.” She stood and held out her hand, a sexy twist of a smile on her lips, and I clasped my hands behind my back.
I didn’t want to even touch her. There was something evil about her. Something insidious that seemed like it might infect me the moment I made contact.
“What’s wrong?” Her lips formed a small pout now.
No doubt, she usually had guys falling over themselves to correct that small expression of unhappiness.
“Nothing.” I offered her a small shrug as I grunted the word.
She arched an eyebrow. “All right. Well, maybe nerves are to be expected. It’s healthy to be anxious.
Keeps you on your toes.” Her throaty chuckle was like fingernails on a chalkboard, and pain shot through my fangs at the sound.
“If Brock doesn’t like you, he’ll kill you.
Regardless of what I say, right?” She frowned.
“So, he’d better the hell like you. My neck’s on the line, too. ”
Maybe I couldn’t do this job after all. I wasn’t sure I could cozy up to Esmé and make it look real.
Everything about her repulsed me. There was nothing sexy or admirable at all about sucking a human dry for years and never turning them.
Oh, some vampires collected thralls like jocks collected notches on their bedposts, but I had no time or taste for it.
It was cruel and left us at risk of discovery. That was another reason Nic had my support. He protected us and made sure we blended with humans in a way that kept everyone safe. The Blackbloods threatened not only Nic’s rule but also our continued survival as a species.
And that was why I was here. It made no difference whether I wanted to touch Esmé or not. It had no bearing on the wider picture. Sooner or later, I’d bring them down.
She walked across the room and into a small kitchen that smelled like rotten meat.
“Excuse the aroma,” she murmured. “Sam appears to have been off her food.”
I nodded. She clearly thought she was funny, but I couldn’t agree.
The apartment was small and basic until we reached a door that looked like it led into a garage. Esmé slipped a key from her pocket, unlocked the door, and then pulled it open to reveal a steep flight of stairs.
“The house is appropriately warded and spelled for a basement,” she said. “My quarters are down here.”
I followed her down the steps, every sense on high alert.
Anything could be down there, including enough vampires to bring about my final death if they ambushed me.
As we arrived in an almost exclusively white living room, the scent of the house changed to something vanilla-based.
Or marshmallows. Esmé inhaled, her smile appreciative.
“Ah, civilization.” She blew out an exhale. “That’s more like it.”
I glanced back upstairs.
Esmé shook her head. “She’ll sleep for a while now. Won’t be any trouble.” She sank into the soft white sofa and curled her legs underneath her.
The blood on the front of her clothes looked out of place in such a pristine room and on such an elegant female.
“I expect you’re wondering why…” She left her sentence to trail off like I might jump in and finish it for her, and when I didn’t do that, she laughed. “A man of few words.” Then she tapped her chin. “Perhaps that’s wise. But aren’t you the slightest bit curious?”
I decided to play her game. “About what?”
She lifted her chin. “Crack house upstairs, home and garden magazine downstairs?”
I shrugged. “I don’t care about interior design.”
She laughed. “Good answer. But it never serves to keep the humans too comfortable. They need to remain… disposable.”
More revulsion threatened to choke me, but instead, I forced my lips into a tight smile. She could read that any way she wanted.
Abruptly, she moved, not bothering to conceal her vampire speed as she stood. “Come on, I need to show you something else.” She stalked from the room, her renewed strength after feeding on her thrall obvious.
She walked down a hallway toward a closed door at the end before throwing it open with a flourish.
There was a large table in the middle and a couple of desks set up around the edges with computers and various bits of technology.
It wasn’t dissimilar to Sebastian’s meeting room, but it clearly doubled as an office.
My attention wandered to the walls. Pictures of New Orleans and maps of the local area were tacked to every available space.
There were street views and even blueprints of some of the more well-known local buildings.
Some of the maps had threads leading to the pictures of the street facades and buildings or even to people.
Nic was there. And Sebastian. I glanced at the remaining faces, anxiety a tight twist inside me until I ascertained I wasn’t there.
Neither was Jason, but… shit. They had a lot of information.
I gestured to the walls so there was no doubt about what I was referring to. “What’s all this? Takeover plan of some sort?”
She didn’t respond immediately so I just watched her. People usually answered me eventually. Staying quiet was often my best intimidation tactic.
She met my gaze and nodded tightly. “Yep.” Her gaze tracked back to the walls of surveillance and information. “Brock wants to destroy the Baton Rouge King and take everything he has.”
I didn’t react while I digested that information.
It didn’t really mesh with what we knew about the Blackbloods.
They moved from area to area, decimating local vampire populations and turning humans at will to boost their numbers, but this…
I scratched my chin. A normal movement, to set Esmé at ease.
“Sounds kinda like a revenge plot.” I leaned heavily into the drawl I rarely used these days.
She shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. There are things Brock doesn’t tell even me.
” Her mouth twisted then she tossed her hair.
“Not sure if I care, though. After all, he’s only my sire, right?
” Her follow-up laugh was brittle, like something was broken inside her, before she drew herself up to stand tall and her eyes turned cold again. Game eyes.
“What’s your deal, Esmé? How do you know Temple?” Something really didn’t sit right. This woman was ruthless and had no morals at all. Who the hell was she even working for?
“Just following the money, honey.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied the pictures on the walls, stepping closer to pick out a figure in the shadows on one of them.
Holy fuck. Temple, too? Barely recognizable in the photo, but that was his usual position in any room.
“Temple has promised me a shitload of money and a position in his spy crew. A place to settle. A life. I think I’m ready for that.” Her voice turned wistful before hardening again. “Brock might be my maker, but he’s never cared for me, and I’m sick of bending to his will.”
I scoffed and my thoughts wandered to the poor, abused thrall upstairs before snapping back to Esmé.
I couldn’t afford to be distracted around her if she was happy to be so duplicitous.
All about the money, honey. Her words echoed in my head.
I’d need to watch her. Money could pour in from any direction, after all.
She dropped into one of the chairs around the meeting table and patted her palm against the smooth wood surface. “Sit. We need to get a few things straight.”