King of Darkness (4 page)

“No. Wait.” The Master drew up to his full height, nearly vibrating with anger. “Fath—Master. Are you really so sure that there are no other supernatural beings on the planet besides us and the vampires? Much of our intelligence about Tyra Morgan is unverified rumor.”

He stepped forward, holding his head high despite the fact that he was naked and blood ran down his body. He gave a pointed look at Petros, who had put them on Tyra’s trail to begin with.

“Master, you have lived a long life. You are well traveled. Surely you have encountered other species of powerful beings. We have—”
Oh, Jesus.
“We have performed the ritual on half-breeds before. Most of them are weaker than their full-blooded counterparts. They don’t have even one power. How can we discount the idea of the king’s daughter being something more? Something different?”

There was loud whispering and rumbling at the far end of the room. Anton lifted his chin as high as he was able. He tried to be as imposing as he could under the circumstances and to make his father work to meet his stare. The Master clucked his tongue and circled Anton… very… slowly. His skull throbbed. When the Master faced him again, there was the briefest flash of—not fear exactly, but something. Doubt?

Yes. Anton had him. This time, hope fueled the heavy thump in his chest. He pressed the point home. “In the interest of your safety, Lord, I would suggest that you be very sure that Tyra Morgan truly
is
only half human before trying to capture her.”

His father was silent. Thoughtful. His cruel lips pressed together in a thin line. “Tell me, if I offered you an opportunity to redeem yourself, do you think you would stand a better chance of acquiring the late king’s daughter?”

“I would welcome the chance to prove myself, Master.”

The Master began to circle again. A cold hand landed on Anton’s shoulder. A whisper fluttered in his ear. “You will understand if I doubt your sincerity.”

The blistering heat of his father’s other hand was astonishing, and an impossibly small shove sent Anton up and back, landing him against the stone wall with a dull smack. Pain exploded through his skull and radiated everywhere as his body dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Dampness and warmth spread out beneath his skull.

Heavy footsteps headed away from Anton. “Petros. Take him to the woods and dispose of him.”

Peace filled Anton from the inside out. It wasn’t much, but he had the small hope that he’d planted a seed of uncertainty in his father’s mind. Maybe that would buy Tyra a little time, enough to realize that she was being hunted. To get herself to safety. A new set of boot steps came closer… and then blackness settled over him.

***

WTF?? Where R U?!?!!?

Isabel was painfully aware of the cold, wet bathroom counter against her skin. She hated the chilly marble under her ass. She was fond of self-flagellation though, so the discomfort was welcome. She drew her knees to her chest, dropped her head into her hands, and listened for a few beats to the aural torture that was an incessant
drip, drip, drip
from the sink’s leaky faucet. What in the hell was wrong with her?

The phone beeped again.
You didn’t seriously think they were going to just leave, did you?

“Shit.” Her hands shook with each button press as she tapped out:
R U OK?

Isabel stared at the phone. Why wasn’t Lexi responding? Oh, God, she was going to kill herself if they hurt Lexi. She couldn’t
believe
she had been so stupid. At first it had sounded like some weird joke that Lexi was playing. Isabel’s eyesight hadn’t been good since the accident, and it was hard to see in the club with all the flashing lights.

By the time she had gotten a good look at the two huge males, she just… well, she didn’t really remember exactly, but next thing she knew, she had been huddled in the corner of the bathroom counter like some kind of refugee. Why the hell hadn’t she stayed to help Lexi? God, she didn’t even know where they might have taken her friend and—The phone beeped.
M fine but these guys R on me like cougars on Adam Lambert. U need 2 talk 2 them!! Come out or I will send them in after you.

Isabel didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she went for both. Then she sent a mental command to lock the dead bolt on the bathroom door.

The slick bottoms of Isabel’s stiletto boots lost traction and her feet clattered into the sink. Her head rested on the yellow ceramic-tiled wall and she let it loll to the side, catching sight of herself in the large mirror over the counter. Staring back at her from behind the lipstick smears and numbers to call for a good time was a disappointing, sad loser. A failure. A total fricking mess.

Someone who dressed like a cheap stripper and whose body was weary from decades of partying and drinking nothing but human blood. Someone whose makeup was starting to sweat off, revealing the ugly spider web of angry scars over her neck and jaw. Someone who had amassed enough street smarts to survive for forty-three years on her own, but when push came to shove, she ran off in a blind panic like she was a young girl again.

And she had left Lexi holding the bag.
I’m sorry, Lex.

Screw sorry. Just get ur ass out here.

She licked an errant tear from the corner of her mouth.
OK if I change?

Lexi’s response came more quickly this time:
Fine. Starving. Taking em 2 el churro. Be fast!

Isabel’s exhale was shaky. The rest of her wasn’t too steady, either.

Another beep:
Bring my hoodie. S colder than a witchs tit outside.

Total relief flooded through Isabel, leaving her limp. Lexi was pissed, but she didn’t feel threatened. They hadn’t hurt her. Thank God.

Okay. Lexi was okay. That was the important part. Isabel breathed deeply. The adrenaline from before had left her weak in the knees. Another deep breath. Okay. Good. She made a sour face at the disheveled party-girl in the mirror. “This is why we had a rule about not getting attached. You survived for decades just fine, and as soon as you drop your guard and make friends, you bring trouble for them.” For good measure, she wagged an accusatory finger.

Both Isabel and her reflection, ungrateful for the sage I-told-you-so, hissed and gave each other the finger. She sighed and jumped down from the counter. A bank of metal lockers lined the back wall of the VIP bathroom. They were a little dented and dingy. For high-class, the place had seen better days. She passed the bathroom entrance as she headed toward them, glanced at the door, and then yanked the padlocks off each of the two rightmost lockers.

She didn’t know the combination for either one, but even without her parents around to teach her, Isabel had managed to learn a few vampire parlor tricks over the years. The smell of Lexi’s hoodie when she pulled it from the locker suggested that her friend’s latest efforts to quit smoking were not going so well.

Isabel swapped her plaid skirt and cropped button-down for jeans and a fuzzy brown turtleneck. She shimmied into her favorite pair of Luckys while she dug at the deepest recesses of her mind. Why on earth would a vampire show up claiming to be king and ask to talk to her? Had her parents done something back in the day? But if that were it, they wouldn’t have just tracked her down now.

Was she going to get in trouble for drinking human blood? Even if that was against the law, who the hell would have reported her for it? And would they really send the king himself? Nothing could be that bad. Could the two large males have been lying about their identities? And if so, who were they really?

Oh
God.
Unless… could they have somehow found out about that human she—

“Fuck it,” she said to no one in particular. They hadn’t hurt Lexi. They hadn’t come after her and dragged her back out of the bathroom. They probably weren’t evil. And if they were? Once she figured out how to get Lexi away from them, there wouldn’t be a thing they could do to scare her. She’d seen plenty in her lifetime that would make even a couple of large males like them squirm.

“You can do this… You can do this…”

Isabel slid her phone open again for one last text:
On my way.

Her feet were still bare, and her gaze ping-ponged back and forth between the stripper boots and the pink Ryka running shoes that she usually wore for the walk back to Lexi’s place. After a few beats, she grabbed the boots and tugged them back on. They always made her walk taller.

Two crunchy beef tacos later, Thad sat in the early-morning chill on the patio of a place called El Churro. It was an interesting little garden-esque oasis, fenced in and planted with palm trees, as if that would block the harsh neon glare of the surrounding shops selling tourist T-shirts, lewd shot glasses, and salt water taffy. The restaurant itself was little more than a tiny clapboard shack, with barely enough room to stand and order. Obviously, Orlando was not used to cold the way Thad would have defined it.

A few humans lingered, but the majority of the customers had already spilled out of the clubs and then taken their orders to go. The whole affair had been amazing to watch, like a swarm of locusts descending to devour the fatty meat and cheese that was necessary for their survival.

Throughout the whole “Let’s have a polite meal” thing, Isabel had been avoiding eye contact with Thad like it was her job. He cleared his throat to get her attention. The second her eyes met his, the grease-laden mass in his stomach began to churn, cement-mixer style. He needed a force of will almost greater than himself to keep his legs from bouncing off an abundance of nervous energy. It wouldn’t do to appear unsure of himself with this female.

Every muscle was strung tight, and he could barely breathe through the tight ball clogging his throat. This would be his first significant task as king, and he’d had the conversation with a faceless female in his head dozens of times, if not hundreds. Now that she was there in the flesh, he wasn’t quite sure how to begin.

Thad drew himself up and sucked a bunch of winter air into his lungs. It smelled of spicy sauces and cooking grease. He was gonna have to get used to the problem-of-mammoth-proportions-that-I-don’t-have-clue-how-to-handle-and-I’m-scared-shitless BS, because this was only the beginning. His father would have weighed the options thoughtfully and then acted with ninja-like speed and precision. Thad felt less like a ninja and more like the proverbial bull in a china shop.

“Can we talk privately?” They might as well get this over with; it couldn’t get much worse. He glanced at Alexia. The little human was a very uncomfortable question mark.

Isabel waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t hide anything from her.” Awesome. Just awesome.

Behind him, Lee shifted and grumbled his reservations but was wise enough not to butt in. Thad often chose to defer to his friend’s advanced years and experience, but this particular minefield was one he needed to navigate on his own. Even if his ass got blown up in the process. And the outlook for that was currently quite good.

“Fair enough,” Thad said finally. He leaned back in his seat, opened his leather jacket, and slowly began to unbutton his shirt. The chilly December air skated over his skin and his nipples hardened instantly, apparently in cahoots with his still semi-erect cock. Cuz after all, in the face of crushing life-or-death responsibility and a hot female who might have no interest in him whatsoever, it was important to have priorities.

“Just so there are no questions, I want to offer you proof that I am who I say I am.” His fingers were unexpectedly steady as they slipped over each button. He stopped just above his navel and slid his gaze around carefully before pulling the shirt aside. The glint of gold in the moonlight elicited a gasp from both Isabel and Alexia.

The medallion was impressive—Thad had been in awe himself when he’d seen it on his father as a boy. Embedded in his sternum was a thick, gold disk that was roughly the size of a half-dollar and bore the royal emblem and the old family name: “Yavn.”

“Let me see.” Isabel leaned closer and pushed his shirt farther out of the way. Her fingers were warm and firm against his skin.

“Holy crap,” the human gasped as she, too, leaned forward. “Is that like…
in
your skin?”

Thad nodded soberly but kept his stare trained on Isabel, who leaned in and touched her finger gently to the piece of gold, tapping it with only the slightest pressure. Her full lips parted a little and a nervous laugh escaped. Well, she hadn’t yet left a trail of dust as she ran away again. That was a start.

“That’s the king’s medallion?” Isabel’s eyes widened further, giving her an almost childlike countenance. Decorative Christmas lights festooned the perimeter of the outdoor eating space, adding a pleasant shimmer to her emerald-green eyes. Something was odd about the left one. It was darker, and… a little cloudy, maybe? It added a sexy sort of otherworldliness to her stare.

“It is.” Acid and salsa swirled in his gut as if on a personal mission to make him hurl. How could he be turned on and nauseated at the same time?