Page 42 of Vampire Runner

“Arm yourselves, gentlemen,” Ambrose orders, swiftly turning and going to the polished wooden case and opening it. He retrieves two bone-hilted daggers, relics of his human days. When he turns back to us, fitting the sheaths to his belt, he’s adopted the hard expression of the man who turned me on a bloody battlefield. “Cassandra, set what wards you can. Then, you and Josephine must prepare the livestock’s blood in the event we need it. The rest of you, meet me in the foyer to prepare ourselves.”

Everyone files out as the uncertain threat becomes reality. I take Cassandra by the hand, leading her quickly to our room. When I’ve closed the door behind her, I wheel and grip her by the shoulders, bringing my face close to hers.

“Whatever you do,” I grit out, “whatever happens, do not summon a demon.”

She trembles, grasping my wrists like a lifeline. Her fear sours the air around me, drowning out the sweet scent of her.

“Ashe,” she begins and I shake her, rattling her into silence.

“No,” I snarl. “Swear it. I would rather die by your side if that is our fate. I will not lose you to a demon’s schemes.”

Her eyes are wide and water-lined. I sigh and close my eyes as I press my forehead against hers. I slide my hands from her shoulders to cup her neck and jaw. “I love you, my mate. I cannot lose you.”

“And I cannot lose you,” she replies, her words wobbling. Her fear hurts more than any wound.

“Swear it,” I plead, ghosting a kiss over her lips. “Swear you won’t do it, no matter what.”

Her heart stutters at my words and I brace myself, readying myself to tie her up and put her in the wardrobe if I must. The only reason why I haven’t sent her away is I know she’s too stubborn to listen, and if she’s tied up in a wardrobe... if the worst happens, I want her to be able to fight until the end.

She presses her petal-sweet lips to mine. “I swear,” Cassandra breathes out. “I won’t summon a demon.”

Her words are rushed, but the drums and heartbeats are close enough that she must hear the mob herself. She guides my mouth to her neck, tilting her head away to submit to me.

“Feed. You need it for the fight ahead.”

I should say no, knowing if I feed from her too much, she’ll be weakened. If she’s right, though, that these men have abilities granted to them by a higher power, we need every edge we can get. I breathe in the scent of her, imprinting it on my senses, vowing this will not be the last time I have her. Then I sink my fangs into her flesh and drink down her intoxicating, empowering blood.

Chapter Thirteen

CASSANDRA

Something pats at my cheek, almost hard enough to be considered a slap. I wince, trying to turn away from the abuse but something else catches my chin. My face is rattled until I groan, feebly pushing at whatever it is to get it to stop.

“Uh-uh, witch,” a smoky voice says, almost as if they’re annoyed with me. “I need you to wake the hell up. I might be able to kick their asses, but I don’t want to waste my time. So, you need to wake up and be on your own two feet so Ambrose doesn’t try anything stupid. They’re all already buzzing around like a pissed-on hornets’ nest.”

Blearily, I crack my eyes open. There’s a ceiling light bright enough that I raise my hand to try to block it out. Someone is silhouetted above me and I don’t recognize the voice. I peer around, trying to get a sense of location when the smell of ground coffee hits me. Combined with the exposed bricks and eclectic furniture, I realize I’m at Black Death Beanery—but how?

“Are you always this slow on the uptake? I swear you never were when I was in you,” the same voice grates out and then strong hands grip my shoulders and forcibly pull me up into a sitting position. My head spins; I throw out a hand to keep my balance but it’s not necessary for more than a moment. I blink, clearing the spots from my vision and it’s not Darcelle in front of me.

“Wha—who?” I rasp out, my mouth filled with sand.

The woman with warm brown skin and pitch-black hair rolls her eyes. Eyes that are a wine red, with a cat-like pupil, framed with thick black lashes and perfectly arched brows.

She raises a hand between our faces and snaps a couple times. I go nearly cross-eyed as I stare stupidly at the two-inch talons painted a matte chartreuse. My eyes running from her hand to her arm, up to her shoulders and across her tight, black leather-clad torso, I finally look at her face again. A face I haven’t seen for over a hundred and fifty years.

“Eris?” I blurt out, no doubt sounding like an idiot. “But how? You were gone. We were dying? I failed to kill the soul and?—”

She presses her hand to my mouth, shushing me. “Were you always this dimwitted? I swear you were intelligent when we first made the bargain.”

I jerk my head back, frowning. “You don’t have to be so rude, you know.”

Eris rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, manners and all that. I’ve always found manners get in the way when time is of the essence, and if you want to save your mate and finally finish this bargain of ours, I need you to pull your shit together fast.”

A door opens and in walks Darcelle with a tray filled with a couple bowls and a stoneware mug that steam rises from with an enticing smell.

“Ah, so she’s awake, good,” Darcelle says as they cross what I realize is a small living room. It must be above the coffee shop, since I have vague memories of it from when Eris possessed me. They set the tray on the small art deco table beside the couch I’m on and press the mug into my shaking hands. “I really wanted to avoid having to use the bitters. Always makes my nose itch for days after and I’m useless when it comes to any mixings or roasting the beans. Go on, drink up.”

Confused and discombobulated, I do as the witch tells me. To my relief, it’s nothing more than herbal spiced tea. It wipes the last of the fog from my brain and my last recollections slam into me.

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