Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10) by D.B. Reynolds Page A

stop thinking about Christian. Where were her brothers when she needed them?
    THE SCENT OF Natalie’s fragrance followed Christian as he strolled into Anthony’s office. Subtle, feminine, but with just a touch of spice. Just like Natalie herself. She was a lovely temptation with her auburn hair falling loose over her shoulders, her silk blouse and figure-hugging skirt showing off her long, smooth legs. She’d been flustered by him, and he had a feeling Natalie didn’t fluster easily. He wasn’t in Houston to hook up with anyone, but that didn’t meant he couldn’t. He wouldn’t mind a taste of Natalie. And he was a man who usually got what he wanted.
    What he wanted most, however, was to rule the South. And tonight, he intended to start down that path. Unfortunately, the vampire lord now giving him a very unfriendly look from across the room was the necessary first step.
    Anthony was old. Very, very old. Maybe even older than Raphael, which only proved that age wasn’t everything when it came to a vampire’s power. The years could build on a vampire’s strength by enhancing his skills and teaching him new tricks. But his essential power, the thing that determined much of who he would be for the rest of his existence, was set in stone on the night he woke as a vampire for the very first time. And there was nothing he, or she, could do to change that.
    So while Anthony was certainly powerful, he wasn’t as powerful as Christian. And they both knew it. That probably accounted for some of the hostility the vampire lord was aiming his way, even though Christian was being very careful to contain his power, to avoid a direct challenge. He had no desire to fight Anthony; the Southern lord had already abdicated the territory and presented no threat.
    But that didn’t mean Christian was going to roll over for him either.
    “Lord Anthony,” he said politely. “Thank you for seeing me.”
    Anthony’s expression never changed. He tugged on the vest of his three-piece suit, in what was probably a habitual gesture, then walked over behind his desk, as if trying to put a barrier between them. And a huge barrier it was, too. The desk was big enough to seat six, much less one average-sized vampire lord. But then, the entire office was as overdone as the reception area had been. The desk and visitors’ chairs filled half of the room, with the other half containing a conversation grouping of a sofa and two chairs, all done in elegant fabrics and wooden curves, with colorful Tiffany-style lamps on delicate end tables. The walls were covered with the same kind of self-congratulatory photos of Anthony shaking hands with important people, and where there wasn’t a photo, there was a certificate or award, all bearing Anthony’s name.
    “Have a seat,” Anthony said in his unnaturally raspy voice. Christian knew this was the result of an injury from the vampire lord’s human life, before he was turned. An injury that the vampire symbiote didn’t see as important enough to fix, apparently.
    Christian swung his gaze back to Anthony, then moved to stand in front of one of the visitors’ chairs, where he waited politely for Anthony to sit first. The vampire lord scowled. He was as handsome as any other vampire—the symbiote had smoothed away any physical flaws long ago—but it couldn’t make him taller. Age and ancestry combined to make the Southern lord around five feet, seven or eight inches, which was considerably shorter than Christian. The height difference wouldn’t have mattered if Anthony had been the more powerful vampire of the two of them. But since he definitively was not, the height disparity only seemed to increase his dislike.
    Anthony narrowed his eyes at Christian. There was nothing friendly in that look. “Raphael called about you. It’s the only reason I agreed to see you,” he said. His accent was not unlike Natalie’s, but Anthony wasn’t Cajun. Or at least, he hadn’t started out that way. He was far