Chapter 9 Kyle #2
Brock must have phoned ahead with his instructions to make it a party because the house was already hopping by the time we parked outside. A deep bass beat thumped through the air, and the laughter and drunken chatter spilled through the open windows.
I swallowed my revulsion. There was no control here.
The Blackbloods didn’t seem to understand the meaning of the word.
Except Brock… There was something more to him.
His hit on Sebastian had been minimal tonight, but I’d seen the room at Esmé’s house.
He was definitely masterminding something bigger, and if being here at this party was my way into that then this was where I needed to be.
I slammed the car door shut.
“Dude,” the fledgling blurted as I caught the door before it fell off, then wedged it back into position and gave it a pat to secure it.
“Good as new,” I said as I glanced at the house again.
I walked up the steps, my hands fists at my sides, and I approached the open door.
Inside, humans lay like discarded candy wrappers on various couches.
All of them wore the same blissed-out expression.
Still more humans were being actively fed from in corners and up against walls.
Forget an orgy. It was like an all-we-could-eat buffet, but how many of these humans were already thralls?
“What do you think?” Brock entered behind me and brought a meaty hand down on my shoulder. He directed the guys behind him to carry a crate of Sebastian’s alcohol, clearly badged for Nightfall, to the corner of the room.
When they opened it, they revealed bottle after bottle of Sebastian’s signature champagne, which was unexpected.
“We’re drinking on the Duponts tonight,” Brock hollered, and his war cry was met with a chorus of calls and whistles.
“Can’t stand around shooting the shit just now, but you should mingle,” he instructed me, and his eyes took on a hard edge as he looked at me before turning sharply to approach two ancient-looking, pale-haired vampires.
Everything about them was pale, and there was a distinct soft odor of decay, like rotting leaves when nature had finally given up.
Interesting… Higher-ups? Suddenly, my forced presence here didn’t seem like such a waste of my time. I’d have something to tell Nic and Sebastian if I played my cards right, anyway.
I walked through the rooms downstairs, building a mental map of the place.
Or that was what I told myself. I was also keeping a watch for Esmé…
and Sam. But not actually Sam. Not like I was really concerned or anything.
Just that someone had to watch out for her on an evening like this.
She was completely addicted to vampire venom.
This environment would be very bad for her indeed.
I shoved aside the sadness at not seeing her. That was a completely inappropriate emotion. I was happy she wasn’t here. Happy she was spared this because it would only hasten her death, and I didn’t think she was ready for that eventuality just yet.
“Kyle!” Brock yelled my name.
Fuck. I hadn’t intended to wander right into his line of sight. I was only scoping the place out… And checking for Sam. I banished the unwelcome whisper from my mind again.
Brock chuckled and shoved a woman into my arms. I caught her on instinct and pulled her to my chest rather than let her momentum unbalance me. I glanced down at red hair and my throat dried.
“Sam?” I only mouthed the word, but she turned and looked at me.
Not Sam.
Of course, not Sam. The hair was too bright, not classy enough, and she reeked of cheap perfume.
“What are you waiting for?” Brock took a step closer, the challenge in his posture obvious. “Indulge.” He gestured impatiently. “Dig in! Enjoy! Bon appétit!”
I shook my head and started to set the unknown woman back onto her feet.
“Take. A. Drink. Kyle.” Brock bit every word out.
When I made no move to the woman’s neck, a growl reverberated through his chest.
“What’s wrong?”
I met his gaze and shrugged. “Nothing. Just might need a clear head rather than get drunk tonight.”
“When you’re offered blood, you take blood.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he indicated the woman I still hadn’t let go of.
She giggled sleepily, releasing warm, alcohol-laced breath over my face. I grimaced and turned away.
“Where are your instincts, man? We’re vampires. Take the blood. Your instincts are to take blood.” He grabbed the woman’s arm and yanked her toward him. “Those should be your instincts.” He lowered his face over her neck, trailing his tongue up the path of her jugular.
I glanced away then back at him.
Slowly, he turned his head until he was looking directly at me.
“I’ve heard the Baton Rouge King takes his blood from a bag.
We know that only Duponts do that. Blackbloods, my people, take from the vein.
” His words were a direct challenge, and his eyes narrowed to show he knew that.
“Only Duponts don’t obey their instincts,” he said again, his voice dangerously quiet.
He wanted me to prove myself to him. Right here. Right now.
Well, shit. I was dancing dangerously close to blowing my cover, and I couldn’t let that happen.
“Fucking new pussy king,” I growled as I drew the woman toward me again.
She laughed and flung her arms around my neck. “Well, hello,” she purred as she threw her head back, exposing a long column of neck.
So much fucking neck.
Endless neck…
Tempting. Torture.
I bent down, just smelling her skin. Her pulse beat wildly, and I could hear the blood rushing through her veins.
My gums ached, and I shook my head slightly to clear it.
I could maintain control here. I had to maintain control.
But my fangs burst through my gums unbidden, and I inhaled at the unexpectedness of it.
Then as I rested my fangs against her skin, I looked Brock direct in the eyes. His pupils dilated but he grinned and nodded approvingly.
I nearly heaved at his obvious pleasure at what I was about to do, but I swallowed against it and tried to force myself to focus.
If I could just concentrate on something else.
Or pretend. If I could make Brock think I’d taken blood, I’d be just fine.
Yes, that was a plan. I’d fake it. Then everything would be okay.
But instead I bit down, and I watched that grinning bastard the whole time.
Blood flooded my mouth, and I groaned while adjusting my grip on the woman to get a better angle.
“Yes,” she murmured, and my cock twitched.
No bagged blood tasted like this. It was the perfect temperature, the perfect sweetness, the perfect consistency sliding down my throat. I gulped and gulped again. It was just the most amazing thing…
Camille.
Her face flashed into my mind.
So pale. So still.
Because I’d killed her.
I wrenched my mouth from the redhead’s neck and thrust her to the floor. I couldn’t be here. I couldn’t do this.
I ran from the house and even the closed gate didn’t prevent me from leaving.
I scaled it and I ran. I just fucking ran. Could still taste the sweetness, still smell the copper scent of the blood.
I craved.
Holy hell, I wanted.
I stopped and doubled over, gasping for air. Heaving in every breath like it might be my last. Or like it might save me.
Then I glanced up.
Oh, fuck no.
My hands tightened into fists.
I was in trouble and outside the very last place I should ever be.