Did Sig just imply I was too chickenshit to bite Peyton?

The knife was now more of a mockery than a tool I’d find good use for. How long was I going to have to fight for the council to take me seriously?

Gently, I pushed his hand away from me.

“I think I can handle one little vampire.” But the hard swallow that nearly caught in my throat made my unease apparent.

Before Sig could offer me the knife again, I ducked under the low doorframe, leaving the Tribunal leader and my ward out in the hall. Once again, I was alone with Peyton. My head was spinning with the scary reality of what I was expected to do.

“Couldn’t…get…enough.” His rasping voice brought me back to my senses.

I moved as close to the husk of Peyton as I dared. “I’m not planning to make a habit of it.”

“You look…delicious.” His withered lips, still oozing a clear liquid, made a crackling noise as he tried to grin at me. The result was a menacing grimace, his lips sticking to his gums, showing me his one good fang and the too-long roots of his other teeth.

“Red is a good color on me,” I replied.

“I…once…painted you… So. Very. Red.” His last three words were spoken with perfectly clarity, no drawn-out wheeze in between like the previous ones. He said them with eerie precision, each vowel short, the consonants clipped and thick with his accent. I looked over my shoulder, hoping to see an easy escape. Instead, Sig was leaning against the wall near the door, watching me with a guarded expression.

I couldn’t be a scared teenager anymore, which was how Peyton always made me feel. Now I had to be a Tribunal leader, ruthless and cunning. My blood had to run cold if I was going to survive in the vampire world.

If they wanted me to be like them, I was going to show them just how much of a vampire I could be.

“Do you remember how my blood tasted?” I asked, crawling closer. My glare bored into his rapt gaze, those eyes black with hunger and edged with madness. In spite of his crazed appearance, the methodical killer I once knew was still in there. “When you swallow the nothing you are given, do you remember the last drink you had?” My head angled to one side, and I narrowed my eyes. “Is it sweet, Peyton?” Another inch closer. “Or do I taste fucking bitter on your tongue?”

He tried and failed to lick his lips.

My fangs were still extended, and it was my turn to give him my best, most demented smile. It wasn’t something I had to fake. Being near him brought something ugly out in me. “I wonder how you taste.”

The blackness receded from his irises for the barest fraction of a second, and I saw what I was desperately hoping for. Fear. Since I was sixteen he had been the monster I’d been most scared of. The bastard who had taught me the limits of my own mortality.

And now he was scared of me.

I edged closer still, and he tried to recoil.

“Come on, Peyton, you like a little pain, don’t you?” Rocking back on my heels, I raised my face to his chained arm and breathed out warmly on his bound hand. “But you like to dish it out… Let’s see how you like to take it.” Our gazes locked, the blackness back in his eyes, but the fear and uncertainty remained.

When I bit into his wrist, he jerked away. He fought against me, and I watched him as I tore open the skin without a care in the world for how badly it would hurt. There was no meaty flesh or thick muscle to resist me, just sinew over bone.

Almost no blood came out of the wound. It was a wonder he had any left at all. My gaze never left his as I wiped a smear of blood from the open bite mark onto my palm and licked my lips to clean the remainder off. He tasted bitter, a little too much like copper without any of the sweetness one should find in fresh blood.

I pursed my lips. I was disgusted with myself, but I couldn’t let him see it.

“I’ve had you…” He made as if to laugh, but just wheezed. “And you…have had…me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I rose to a crouch and loomed over him. If blood was shared between vampires, it forged a powerful connection, making it easier for them to find one another. It hadn’t been my intention to forge such a bond between Peyton and myself, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. “You’ll never get a chance to abuse it.”

“Never…say never.”

I didn’t respond. I had already let him use my time too much, and every second I stayed near him was an opportunity for him to get the upper hand again.

Back outside I held my bloody palm out for Sig’s approval. He nodded and shut the door.

“Your blood, as the choice was yours.” Without waiting for me to do it myself, Sig took my clean hand and drew a fang across my palm. His breath was shockingly hot, and I gasped before withdrawing my hand.

I wiped my fresh blood on the wooden door, which served the dual purpose of re-locking it and taking the first step of our ceremony.

Sig continued, pausing to lick a trace of my blood from his lips. “His blood, as he is the prisoner.”

I smeared the blood I’d taken from Peyton over my own on the door. The wood responded with a faint hiss.

“And her blood…” he angled his chin to Brigit, “…as her life is now the key to his freedom.”

Brigit, who had watched the steps in wide-eyed wonderment, now followed suit and bit her own thumb open, adding her blood to the mess on the door. The hissing grew louder, and a silvery-gray smoke curled out from under the layers of blood until all the red had vanished and the door was as smooth as ever.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“Did you say the magic words?” Sig asked.

“The…magic words?” I turned from the door and saw him smirking. “Oh you’re fucking hilarious.” I gave the door one last look, and for the hell of it added, “Abracadabra.” As far as magic words went, it was as good as it got.

Chapter Forty

How many supernatural creatures does it take to get a girl to her bachelorette party?

Two vampires, one sister of a werewolf and one New York City Police Department detective. Okay, so the last one might not be supernatural, but she was carrying a gun.

When Holden guided Brigit and me through the doors of New York’s newest new hot club, a place called Friction, I was glad I’d let the sentry pick my ensemble for the night. I was also glad to have accepted Sig’s offer to send some wardens to the club in advance. Just in case.

Once upon a time I would have shot the idea down before it was done being offered. Things changed. I couldn’t be so frivolous about my personal safety anymore. Not with the pack and the Tribunal depending on me.

Who would have thought I’d be instrumental to so many people’s well-being all at once?

I’d lived for myself and by myself for so long it was a big adjustment to make, not only to have people depend on me, but to let myself depend on others.

The club was packed full of girls wearing barely there dresses and men trying to get those girls out of said dresses. None of the men so much as cast me a second glance thanks to Brigit’s efforts in cleaning out the bridesmaid paraphernalia at the local gag shop. I was wearing a tiara that was festooned with fake diamonds, and had on a silver-and-pink sash that read BRIDE.

Brigit was wearing a blinking pink button proclaiming her a Bridesmaid!, but hers seemed more subtle somehow. I’d allowed the sash, tiara and a pink feather boa, but I drew the line at a penis cup. My dignity could handle a lot of low blows. Drinking cosmos out of a phallus-shaped sippy cup wasn’t one of them.

We met Mercedes and Kellen at a booth in the very back corner of the club, where I was finally able to relax. The black leather couches were crammed up against a solid brick wall, with a low ceiling overhead, which was the floor of the stairs to the second level, and our position provided us a great view of the whole dance floor as well as part of the upstairs bar area.

I let out a breath. This was the only place an assassin might feel comfortable in a jam-packed club. That is, if I ignored the stripper pole in the middle of the couch circle.

Kellen and Mercedes were both wearing blinking Bridesmaid! buttons, and each looked a little too happy about seeing me wrapped in pink feathers. It wasn’t until I flopped next to Kellen on the sofa that I realized there was someone else in our party.

Eugenia was sitting alone, wearing a dress that was a size too large and a few inches too short. She must have borrowed it from Kellen because the design screamed look at me, while the girl in it appeared to be hoping for quite the opposite.

“You never told me you had a sister,” Kellen shouted over the throbbing bass of the music.

“No one told me either until last week.” I gave Eugenia a quizzical look, and she smiled meekly.

“Callum sent me. He said it was important for family to be present at your wedding. I’m staying with Kellen.”

“Just you?”

“No, Ben too.”

“Who’s Ben?” Kellen asked, bubbling with excitement.

“My brother,” Eugenia and I said in unison. Eugenia continued, explaining, “He’s with Lucas at the penthouse.”

“You have a brother too?” Kellen gaped at me. Mercedes looked intrigued as well but must have thought better of asking questions in the middle of a packed nightclub.

“We’re twins.” Eugenia sipped the drink in front of her.

“How did you get in?” I pointed at the club. “And what’s in that?”

“I have a little pull,” Mercedes offered.

“And it’s 7UP,” Eugenia finished.

“For someone who’s only been a big sister for a week, you’ve already got the overprotective thing down pat.” Kellen laughed.

“I’m not even going to ask what’s in yours.”

“I’m over twenty-one,” she reminded me. “And gin.”

“God help us all.”

“Who said you could bring a boy?” Kellen pointed to Holden, who was still lurking around outside the booth.