Page 61 of Princess Broken

“No!” He folds his arms over his chest. “Of course not! What the fuck, Crusher? Why would you even ask me that?” He looks at me as if my suggestion is outrageous, heinous.

So far as I know, Phil never lies to me, but it’s also clear that he’s hiding something. Also clear that Phil cares more about the princess than he should. And he’s never cared about anyone beyond our tight brotherhood of four.

For Phil, this protection job has turned personal.

I think back to how Ana felt in my arms when I carried her away from that ambush. How at first she was frozen in fear, and then how she trembled. But how quickly she calmed herself. So brave and strong, especially so soon after losing her mate. Her strength and courage are fucking amazing.

Fuck. This protection job is more important to me than it should be too.

Hoping to defuse Phil’s anger, I lift my fingers, flipping my palms toward him in surrender. Phil backs away, sitting down so hard the ground shakes. I wouldn’t be shocked if his landing registered on the Richter scale.

“Okay, smart guy,” he says. “What’s your big idea?”

I shrug. “I say we ask around before we charge at Mariano. Gather intel. And find out where we can catch him alone.”

“Yeah. Let’s shake down some scumbags.” Interest paints Phil’s expression again. “Hell Hole.” He jumps onto his feet.

Going to the The Hounds of Hell Watering Hole is exactly what I suggested at least forty-five minutes ago, but there’s nothing to be gained by pointing that out. The underground club in DC, catering to both humans and vamps, is frequented by the kinds of vampires who not only have their ears to the ground, but are willing to spill what they know for the right price.

Blade nods his agreement, and then the three of us race toward a small farm in Virginia, the location of the vamps-only entrance to Hell Hole. All humans admitted are carefully vetted and go into the bar through the original downtown entrance, which was never easy to find. But since vampires have been outed to humans, there’s heavy security at the human’s entrance: metal detectors for silver; thorough searches and x-rays for wooden stakes and other weapons.

Milder stuff, like garlic, sometimes gets through the doors, but garlic’s more like a sedative. Can’t do much damage.

Now that humans know vampires are real, more have learned how to kill us. And worse, all humans, not just the police, have free license to stake us on sight, no questions asked. Bars like Hell Hole, where humans and vamps knowingly interact, are few and far between these days.

The vampire king, Ana’s freaking father, is supposedly negotiating changes to the humans’ murderous, stake-first-ask-questions-later policies, but his twenty-year disappearance didn’t exactly help that cause.

Thinking about that, my heart opens toward Ana even further. She went twenty years thinking that her Maker and adoptive father was dead. And now she’s lost her mate. She’s gone through so fucking much.

We arrive at the abandoned barn that Hell Hole’s owner bought to create a back way in to his sleazy club. The tunnels leading from here to the bar are total shit, but they do the trick. In places, both Phil and I have to slow down to squish ourselves through, and all of us need to crouch most of the way to avoid smashing our skulls. But if the cops ever spotted a vampire going through the main doors, as hidden as they are, it would put the club, and everyone in there, at risk.

We near the end of the tunnels. There, a bouncer is parked at the bottom of a long ladder. Seeing us approach, he straightens his posture, moving into a military-style at ease position.

“Gentlemen.” He nods.

“Ha!” Phil claps him on the arm before leaping about fifteen feet up the ladder. “Nothing gentle about us.”

The guard’s tough facade falters, as if he’s afraid he offended Phil. It’s good to know our reputation has remained in tact at this place, even though we rarely come anymore.

Phil and Blade go ahead, and I chat with the bouncer a few moments, before climbing up last. When I emerge into the storeroom at the top of the ladder, Phil and Blade have disappeared. Annoyed they didn’t wait, I enter the bar, trying to look nonchalant, hoping Phil hasn’t already done something we’ll all regret.

But Phil and Blade are belly up to the bar, Phil downing a large glass of scotch. How the hell did he order that so quickly?

“I told him we should wait for you,” Blade says to me under his breath, and Phil grunts as he sets down his empty glass.

“All good,” I say. “Anyone interesting here tonight?”

“Haven’t looked yet.” Blade swivels his glass between his palms. It doesn’t look like he’s taken a sip.

Leaning over the bar, Phil grabs the bottle of scotch and pours himself another full glass. The bartender pretends not to notice.

“Want one?” Phil asks me.

Shaking my head, I turn to lean back against the edge of the highly-polished chrome bar. A group of females, both vamp and human, has gathered on the other side of the room, every one of their eyes trained on the three of us.

Blade turns too, and his change in position triggers a collective sigh from the women. I chuckle to myself. It’s not hard to tell which one of us has most captured their interest. Not shocking, either. The tall black vampire beside me is one of the most handsome creatures on the planet. Even the fucking scars along his cheekbones seem more like surgical enhancements than the remnants of brutal wounds inflicted before Blade was turned.

I sense movement amongst the women, whispers. Clearly some are gathering the courage to approach. But we don’t have time to deal with tempting distractions like pounding our cocks into soft holes. Especially not human ones. Too fragile.

---