Chapter 10
Danton
At night the wet air wasn't as intense. It was nothing like the desert of his home planet, but Danton breathed easier at night.
Patrols were punched up, everyone doing double duty, working in the enclaves or tank farms, breeding as often as they could be forced into the programs. He'd been with several human women lately, the trysts anything but consensual. The women were terrified, often drugged, often bound.
His heart pounded the whole time. Ever since the massacre at the amphitheater, ever since the rousing assembly when they renewed their pride and devotion to their homeland, their race, he'd felt a pride in every Vampyren action taken.
He and Lan trained together, ate together, toured together when they could, but there weren't enough Vampyren now so many were either dead, dying or in hospital. The massacre had dwindled their tanks further.
That meant more food for everyone – those women who were caught didn't talk. Several took poison before they could even be used as food.
The moods were ugly. But Danton felt renewed. His loyalty had been waning, his fealty in question. He had been uncomfortable with their mission on Earth.
No longer.
He straddled the bike, feeling the engine purr between his massive legs.
Compared to human men, the Vampyren were like a human male facing down a charging rhinoceros or a grizzly bear.
They were massive, densely muscled, dark skinned, long hair that tended to be black.
They grew beards easily and their gold eyes missed little.
Still the human males, those left, attacked. By now most races would be down to the beta males, the ones like the local governments that did what they had to in order to survive and considered that public service.
This planet was strange. The men continued to attack. The women took arms and were violent even when not being mated.
He had started to admire their spirit before the massacre reminded him of who and what he was. Vampyren. Conqueror.
"I saw something down that way," Lan said, nodding. He was in a Jeep, barely fitting, but sometimes a vehicle was better for giving chase than a motorcycle. With two hearts, it was harder for Vampyren to be killed by a human weapon but not impossible, as the massacre had shown.
"I'll be right here."
Their post was in an area called Hollywood, a tribute to lavish excesses of the planet. In truth he liked movies, undiscerning between those that featured the Earth version of his own kind as demons and those that featured them as playfully wicked and silly. It was like a kind of porn for them.
He liked comedies, too, though he'd never even tell Lan that.
He wasn't expecting anything. Three a.m., the moon rode the skies and the city was silent. Humans largely weren't stupid enough to go outside at night unless desperation drove them.
He waved Lan off, watched the taillights head down and turn onto another street and vanish through the maze of broken buildings.
He turned back just in time to see the motorcycle come tearing out of the wastes of Rodeo Drive where there should be nothing but the human stores that paid homage to their clothes and beauty.
The rider wore a white tank top as if she wanted no part of blending into the night. Her helmet eclipsed her face, but a long, dark auburn braid whipped behind her in the wind of her passing.
The instant the bike was past him in the glow of a functioning streetlight he saw it: A star tattoo decorating her right shoulder.
Danton grinned savagely, remembering her up thrust middle finger and unapologetic stare.
He twisted the grips hard, revving the motor. She had to have known there were checkpoints everywhere now, had to have known she'd be seen and if not seen, at least heard.
It crossed his mind it might be a trap, but his firepower was better than theirs. He was bigger, stronger.
Angrier.
And the thrill of the chase was on him, making him laugh, driving back some of the anger in the astonishment that a human would act like this.
The night air washed over him. His blood ran hot. His pulse hammered. His hearts pounded. He caught sight of her turning onto Fairfax, too near the high school, and then taking a right and then another right and they couldn't actually be headed anywhere, was she insane?
Was he? Because his teeth were bared in what should have been a snarl but felt like an overjoyed grin.
He wanted her.
No, that wasn't right. He was Vampyren.
He wanted to catch her, to punish her, he wanted to see her in the ring facing the females of his kind, maybe blooded to bring up their blood lust and maybe freshly mated but denied the ritual biological carnivorous destruction of their mate.
He wanted –
He wanted to fuck her, and that fit both worlds, no matter how conflicted he might be.
He slammed the bike harder and hurtled into the darkness in her wake, closing the distance between them.