the equation.
Julian trudged on. Dim streetlights, with broken and missing bulbs, barely illuminated the area. Dismal houses with cracked windows, swaybacked roofs, and weed-choked lawns screamed abject poverty and hopelessness.
He couldn’t believe anyone would voluntarily bring his family there. Not even the two-year monthly stipend the government used as an incentive to relocate would have been enough for him.
He shoved his hair back and tried to get his bearings. Was he near White Center? Wherever he’d been dumped, it was awful. How far was he from downtown Seattle?
A fat drop of rain hit his face. Then another and another.
Wonderful . Was there no end to this night in hell?
The rain picked up, pelting him with stinging fury. Within minutes, he was soaked and shivering. But the rain’s chill didn’t match the ice inside him.
Not one thing made the neighborhood livable. The homes appeared unfit for animals, yet most had occupants.
Children played on falling-apart covered porches. A few romped in the streets, despite the rain. Vampires weren’t permitted to own cars, so there wasn’t any traffic to pose a danger to the little ones.
His chest burned with indignant rage. No one should be forced to live under such conditions or subjected to degradation and cruelty for being born to a different race.
His rage morphed and combined with guilt. Worse than the painful burns, worse than hunger, worse than loneliness, was admitting he’d been an arrogant, selfish, spoiled bastard who hadn’t given a damn about the plight of anyone beyond himself.
He deserved everything that had happened to him. He’d always thought himself a good person. But he hadn’t been one at all. Far from it.
Maybe he could find a way to set some of it right, make up for the way he’d been. Determination stiffened his spine. With his head held high in the cold, driving rain, he walked toward the Restricted Zone.
Chapter Five
JULIAN SLIPPED around the side of a hard rock club and concealed himself in a recessed doorway. A rush of excitement and anticipation combined with anxious, desperate lust fired his blood.
He leaned against the door. Music pounded as a band performed with more gusto than talent. Something he would never do on a stage again. Fresh pain ripped through him with staggering force.
Closing his eyes, he fought to center himself. He had bigger problems than losing his career. Survival, uncertain from moment to moment, was all that mattered now.
Chills crawled along his skin and he shivered, though, soon enough, fever would bake him until nausea churned his stomach.
He clenched his fists, but quickly relaxed his hands. The brands still hurt almost as bad as the night they had been burned into his flesh. When had that been? Three days ago? Four? He wasn’t sure.
He focused on the front parking lot, waiting for suitable quarry—someone so high on drugs or alcohol they wouldn’t remember him.
He would prefer going after one of the government goons patrolling the streets, but appeasing his desire for payback might backfire. He was too sick to even think straight much less take on the drug-toting Nazi-wannabes.
Movement caught his attention. A female.
Long, honey-colored hair swished in rhythm with her hips as she tottered across the gravel parking lot on stiletto heels. She was going to do harm to herself in those ridiculous shoes if she wasn’t careful.
The female passed Julian without so much as a glance in his direction. Not that he cared. He watched her mince unsteadily along until she reached the sidewalk and crossed the street.
A moment later, she cut into an alley and the fine hair on his arms rose off his skin. Alleys were now things to avoid if possible.
Validating his apprehension, a large male separated from the shadows and snaked behind the little blond.
Julian sprang from the doorway and headed for the street at a fast clip. Dodging traffic, he sprinted after them. He followed them
Julian trudged on. Dim streetlights, with broken and missing bulbs, barely illuminated the area. Dismal houses with cracked windows, swaybacked roofs, and weed-choked lawns screamed abject poverty and hopelessness.
He couldn’t believe anyone would voluntarily bring his family there. Not even the two-year monthly stipend the government used as an incentive to relocate would have been enough for him.
He shoved his hair back and tried to get his bearings. Was he near White Center? Wherever he’d been dumped, it was awful. How far was he from downtown Seattle?
A fat drop of rain hit his face. Then another and another.
Wonderful . Was there no end to this night in hell?
The rain picked up, pelting him with stinging fury. Within minutes, he was soaked and shivering. But the rain’s chill didn’t match the ice inside him.
Not one thing made the neighborhood livable. The homes appeared unfit for animals, yet most had occupants.
Children played on falling-apart covered porches. A few romped in the streets, despite the rain. Vampires weren’t permitted to own cars, so there wasn’t any traffic to pose a danger to the little ones.
His chest burned with indignant rage. No one should be forced to live under such conditions or subjected to degradation and cruelty for being born to a different race.
His rage morphed and combined with guilt. Worse than the painful burns, worse than hunger, worse than loneliness, was admitting he’d been an arrogant, selfish, spoiled bastard who hadn’t given a damn about the plight of anyone beyond himself.
He deserved everything that had happened to him. He’d always thought himself a good person. But he hadn’t been one at all. Far from it.
Maybe he could find a way to set some of it right, make up for the way he’d been. Determination stiffened his spine. With his head held high in the cold, driving rain, he walked toward the Restricted Zone.
Chapter Five
JULIAN SLIPPED around the side of a hard rock club and concealed himself in a recessed doorway. A rush of excitement and anticipation combined with anxious, desperate lust fired his blood.
He leaned against the door. Music pounded as a band performed with more gusto than talent. Something he would never do on a stage again. Fresh pain ripped through him with staggering force.
Closing his eyes, he fought to center himself. He had bigger problems than losing his career. Survival, uncertain from moment to moment, was all that mattered now.
Chills crawled along his skin and he shivered, though, soon enough, fever would bake him until nausea churned his stomach.
He clenched his fists, but quickly relaxed his hands. The brands still hurt almost as bad as the night they had been burned into his flesh. When had that been? Three days ago? Four? He wasn’t sure.
He focused on the front parking lot, waiting for suitable quarry—someone so high on drugs or alcohol they wouldn’t remember him.
He would prefer going after one of the government goons patrolling the streets, but appeasing his desire for payback might backfire. He was too sick to even think straight much less take on the drug-toting Nazi-wannabes.
Movement caught his attention. A female.
Long, honey-colored hair swished in rhythm with her hips as she tottered across the gravel parking lot on stiletto heels. She was going to do harm to herself in those ridiculous shoes if she wasn’t careful.
The female passed Julian without so much as a glance in his direction. Not that he cared. He watched her mince unsteadily along until she reached the sidewalk and crossed the street.
A moment later, she cut into an alley and the fine hair on his arms rose off his skin. Alleys were now things to avoid if possible.
Validating his apprehension, a large male separated from the shadows and snaked behind the little blond.
Julian sprang from the doorway and headed for the street at a fast clip. Dodging traffic, he sprinted after them. He followed them
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