Hunters come back and we are forced to flee, your exile will cause the wasting disease, just like Kos and me. And if we flee, we will not have Blood Vine to counteract it.”
“ Mierda. ”
“Tell me, son. What are you afraid of?”
“That I’ll lose control. That I’ll fuck him. Or kill him. Or both.”
“ Davo,” Andre said.
Pedro winced. Andre always saved that curse for his worst moods. Apparently, it was some ancient half-Slavic, half-Latin accusation against the devil that two-thousand-year-old Andre, alone among living creatures, still said. With the harsh word, Andre had reassured Pedro he understood how royally screwed the new vampire was. Pedro would willingly accept that small comfort.
“Exactly.”
“Well, as your sire, I tell you it is unwise to kill your blood supply. Especially if he is the only one you can feed from.”
Pedro opened his mouth to point out the absurdity of advice so obvious, but caught the glint in Andre’s eye and swallowed the retort. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. In his cold, empty belly, Pedro felt a flare of heat—fatherly affection he’d known rarely from his human father. If he had to be a vampire, at least Andre was his father.
Andre clapped him on the shoulder and the moment was gone.
“News from Bel?” Pedro asked.
“He arrived in Los Angeles and will begin the research today. I hope for your sake he finds results fast. If he learns the secrets of Hunter blood, maybe he can cure your addiction to Lucas Bennett.”
“You think so?”
“I do not know. But if anyone can, it is Bel.”
Chapter 7
W ITH T IME T O K ILL and a laptop, Leo did what every other twenty-year-old guy would do—chats, email, porn, more of the same. Not just his email, but Kosjenic Marasović’s, which proved far more interesting than the half-ass flirtations he had going with girls at school.
Some vampire had responded to the ad for the cook—a bloodsucker named Mason Kearney wanted to hire her. And Leo wasn’t sure what to do about it. Even if he could find this Kearney’s address, he could hardly show up on a vampire’s doorstep solo.
He knocked on the truck trailer. “Okay in there?”
“Please let me go. My wife and my—”
“Chill out, man. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He wasn’t. He just hadn’t figured out how to get rid of the guy without having him come back with the cops. Next time he carjacked somebody, he’d think that part through better.
The abandoned garage was hot, but he couldn’t risk opening a door. There was a toilet which didn’t flush, making for a hell of a ripe stink. His mind bounced from idea to idea at the same speed he opened and closed windows on his computer, unable to focus on a game, an email, or a video for long. Unable to think straight at all, really, like he’d had a bunch of those super caffeinated sodas. Only, he hadn’t had one of those things.
A doubt whispered in his ear that he might be in over his head.
He forwarded the email to Ethan Bennett with a note explaining he’d hacked Marasović’s email. His finger hovered over the send button, and then he recalled Bennett’s words to the Hunters when Stephen Bennett had been killed. Ethan had been all fake-sad about his dad dying, and he promised to find all the deep, dark Hunter secrets before he took down Marasović himself.
Dude thought he was Jesus H. Christ for Hunters. Hey, maybe that’s what the “H” stood for. He’d always wondered. Leo opened another window to Google it, and his email to Bennett got buried on the screen.
Ethan leaned his hip against the doorframe, interested in observing Gwen’s reaction to the basement of his family home.
She scanned the room, rubbing her elfin chin. “Who are you?”
He had expected the question. Years ago, his father had the lower level equipped to preserve Hunter artifacts in museum-like conditions with temperature and humidity controls, as well as airtight cases for the objects that required
“ Mierda. ”
“Tell me, son. What are you afraid of?”
“That I’ll lose control. That I’ll fuck him. Or kill him. Or both.”
“ Davo,” Andre said.
Pedro winced. Andre always saved that curse for his worst moods. Apparently, it was some ancient half-Slavic, half-Latin accusation against the devil that two-thousand-year-old Andre, alone among living creatures, still said. With the harsh word, Andre had reassured Pedro he understood how royally screwed the new vampire was. Pedro would willingly accept that small comfort.
“Exactly.”
“Well, as your sire, I tell you it is unwise to kill your blood supply. Especially if he is the only one you can feed from.”
Pedro opened his mouth to point out the absurdity of advice so obvious, but caught the glint in Andre’s eye and swallowed the retort. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. In his cold, empty belly, Pedro felt a flare of heat—fatherly affection he’d known rarely from his human father. If he had to be a vampire, at least Andre was his father.
Andre clapped him on the shoulder and the moment was gone.
“News from Bel?” Pedro asked.
“He arrived in Los Angeles and will begin the research today. I hope for your sake he finds results fast. If he learns the secrets of Hunter blood, maybe he can cure your addiction to Lucas Bennett.”
“You think so?”
“I do not know. But if anyone can, it is Bel.”
Chapter 7
W ITH T IME T O K ILL and a laptop, Leo did what every other twenty-year-old guy would do—chats, email, porn, more of the same. Not just his email, but Kosjenic Marasović’s, which proved far more interesting than the half-ass flirtations he had going with girls at school.
Some vampire had responded to the ad for the cook—a bloodsucker named Mason Kearney wanted to hire her. And Leo wasn’t sure what to do about it. Even if he could find this Kearney’s address, he could hardly show up on a vampire’s doorstep solo.
He knocked on the truck trailer. “Okay in there?”
“Please let me go. My wife and my—”
“Chill out, man. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He wasn’t. He just hadn’t figured out how to get rid of the guy without having him come back with the cops. Next time he carjacked somebody, he’d think that part through better.
The abandoned garage was hot, but he couldn’t risk opening a door. There was a toilet which didn’t flush, making for a hell of a ripe stink. His mind bounced from idea to idea at the same speed he opened and closed windows on his computer, unable to focus on a game, an email, or a video for long. Unable to think straight at all, really, like he’d had a bunch of those super caffeinated sodas. Only, he hadn’t had one of those things.
A doubt whispered in his ear that he might be in over his head.
He forwarded the email to Ethan Bennett with a note explaining he’d hacked Marasović’s email. His finger hovered over the send button, and then he recalled Bennett’s words to the Hunters when Stephen Bennett had been killed. Ethan had been all fake-sad about his dad dying, and he promised to find all the deep, dark Hunter secrets before he took down Marasović himself.
Dude thought he was Jesus H. Christ for Hunters. Hey, maybe that’s what the “H” stood for. He’d always wondered. Leo opened another window to Google it, and his email to Bennett got buried on the screen.
Ethan leaned his hip against the doorframe, interested in observing Gwen’s reaction to the basement of his family home.
She scanned the room, rubbing her elfin chin. “Who are you?”
He had expected the question. Years ago, his father had the lower level equipped to preserve Hunter artifacts in museum-like conditions with temperature and humidity controls, as well as airtight cases for the objects that required
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