The Way You Bite(11)

“Velvet. Over here. I saved you a spot,” a female voice loudly whispered her way.

“It’s Vee, Aunt Carol. Your dress is gorgeous. Is that Versace?” No one could resist a slight infatuation with Carol. She definitely scored a ten on any vamp rating scale and didn’t look to have aged a day beyond thirty, even though she was at least three centuries old. Her independence and unwillingness to keep her opinions secret kept her off the marriage market, at least according to her.

“It’s Louis Vuitton. I found it in France a few months ago.” Carol kissed her on both cheeks and then smashed Vee’s head against her voluptuous bosom.

Vee sat and sipped at the blood already poured into the goblet at her place. Expensive stuff. Tasty.

Carol yawned and whispered, “This is dull as boar shit. There’s not even a promising male to amuse me.” She glanced around. “Asswipes, all of them. I can’t wait to return home where at least the males are honest incorrigibles. They don’t hide behind masks of righteousness. Oh, dear. Here comes your brother. I love him to pieces, but rumor is he wants to fix me up with a business associate. If I wanted a mate, I’d find him myself. Excuse me.” Carol rose and glided out the French doors into the dark of night on the veranda.

“You didn’t want to do a toast to Brooke?” Trace asked behind her.

She whirled in her chair to glance up at her brother.

Trace took Carol’s empty chair and sipped the abandoned blood. A fond smile curved his lips when he gazed at Vee.

She returned his smile. How she’d missed him. He may be general of the Squad and answerable to Dominic, but he would always be her brother. In this den of pit vipers fixated on war, he’d chartered a taciturn course, remaining coolheaded when others got violent. Some thought him surly and aloof, but he never cared about other’s opinion. He killed when he had to, fought when he deemed it right, and kept his own counsel.

He inclined his wineglass toward her dress. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks. You enjoying yourself tonight?”

He shrugged. His body tensed as he leaned forward and said low, “You should go home. Dominic has plans that aren’t good for you.”

“Does he ever have good plans?” Her gaze darted to Dominic at the head table. Clan heads swarmed him, each waiting their turn to kiss Dominic’s left pinky ring, affirming allegiance.

“Some relish the thought of you two fighting again.” Trace’s face smoothed over as he straightened in his chair and made eye contact with his first lieutenant, who claimed the seat across from her. Hsu-Li scrutinized her.

“Hsu-Li, you look nice.” She pasted on a demure smile for the massive Asian vamp across the table and pretended to be breathless. Flattery worked best when dealing with the guy. He loved himself above all else and remained under the delusion every female found him irresistible.

“As do you, Lady Scarpa. That’s a pretty dress.” Hsu-Li broke into an amused smile and scanned her as if she was a prized pet. The title should command a lot more respect, but all knew the tension between she and her father. Most interpreted her fiancé’s frequent “business trips” as reason to doubt her ability to keep his interest long enough for him to follow through on marriage. She’d be relieved if he called it off, but Ambrose would use her as cover for as long as possible. He let her do what she wanted in exchange for her silence.

Secrets. The holy bond on which their matrimony would be founded.

“Thank you.” She lowered her eyes modestly while hate simmered an ulcer in her stomach.

Trace nodded toward the head table. “He wants to speak with you.”

Dominic’s green laser stare trapped her. His lips drooped into a frown. She caught a flash of thought from Dominic.

Her father knew about King Werewolf’s visit.





Chapter Four


“Duck.” Eric swerved and pushed Lexan toward the passenger window. Two bullets whizzed through the windshield on a failed trajectory for Lexan’s head.

Lexan leaned around his seat to assess the truck closing in behind them. He rolled down his window. “Give me your gun.”

“No, I’m not giving you my gun so you can lean out the window like you’re James Bond. Last time, you shot my foot.”

True. He sucked with guns. Give him a knife or sword and he could kill anything. “That was ten years ago. Who’s James Bond?”

“You’re shitting me, right? British Spy?”

“Have I met this spy? I’m not a fan of spies. They’re duplicitous.”

“I can’t believe you don’t know James Bond. Movie character? He’s fictional.” Eric swerved to avoid another round of bullets. “Forget it. I’ll get the movies on the iPad. Get down. I’m getting you out of here.” Eric yanked out his cell and auto-dialed, keeping the phone on speaker. “TC, you boys got these assholes?”

“We authorized to use lethal, sir?” asked TC.

“They just tried to assassinate Lexan. Take the motherfuckers out. If you feel you can get anything out of them, then interrogate, but leave nothing for the police.” He squealed the SUV into an abrupt left. The car leaned hard, struggling to stay on all four wheels.

Behind them, their attacker’s truck crashed into a telephone pole, with two flat back tires.