Page 9 of Perfectly Perfect Pixie

Freddie’s ass snapped back into his barstool. His shoulders hunched and tensed over the glass of warmed blood sitting in front of him.

Ignoring Freddie’sfriends, who scattered like vermin when I approached, I eased up against the bar, casually leaning into it. Lizbeth stared at me, eyes narrowed, obviously pissed at Freddie.

“I believe we’ve discussed this before, Frederick. Lizbeth is not interested. If she changes her mind, I’m certain you will be the first to hear of it.”

Lizbeth muttered, “When hell freezes over.”

I waved her off, and she threw her towel down on the bar, twirled, and stalked to the other end to take care of a customer.

Freddie remained silent.

With a heavy sigh, I asked, “Why must you do this? You know the rules. You agreed to them when you petitioned to join my nest. Why do you insist on pushing?”

I couldn’t think of another recent decision I regretted more than the one I’d made fifteen years ago. A bedraggled, half-starved Freddie had begged me to take him in—to allow him to live within my territory. Unsurprisingly, he’d run afoul in his previous territory. Their queen had been adamant if he stepped foot in the Midwest again, he’d be staked on sight.

Even in profile, I could make out Freddie’s sneer. “That was before I realized what a pansy you are.”

Laughter erupted, boiling from deep within my chest, rumbling into the evening. “Pansy? Is that the best insult you can think of?” I was well aware that some vampires viewed me as weak. They were, of course, wrong, but I did not rule with a heavy hand, and some viewed that as a weakness. Evidently, Freddie was cut from this sad bolt of cloth.

“You think that’s funny?” Freddie pushed out of his chair, spilling his glass of blood. The crimson fluid lazily drifted down the bar top, heavily dripping on the other side. I hated waste.

Remaining seated, I said, “No, I don’t think it’s funny at all.” My voice was deathly serious and alarmingly low.

At some point, Johnny had come out of the back storage area and stood a few feet down the bar. He was alert with his ears pitched forward. I didn’t need his help. If Johnny intervened, he’d most likely only get injured for his efforts. Still, the thought was appreciated.

Freddie licked his lips, his dark black eyes twitching back and forth. He had precious little control over his actions and reactions for a two-hundred-and-seventy-year-old vamp. I’d been far better at a mere eighty.

Collecting his stupidity around him, Freddie squared his shoulders and thrust out his chest. “You’re so full of yourself you don’t even know what everyone’s talking about or saying. You think I’m the only one that figures you’ve gone soft?” Freddie made a puffing noise. “A pixie, Lucroy? Really? Drinking shit like that will weaken you faster than a second in the sun. Everyone knows what happened to Horatio.”

Rage, pure, hot, and violent, settled low and deep. I fought the change. My limbs wanted to shift, to elongate and ravage this insolent brat. My fangs felt heavy, my mouth too small for their weight.

Eyes closed, I concentrated on the sounds around me, forcing my body to calm. This pathetic creature didn’t deserve the full force of my fury. When I’d gained enough control, I opened my eyes.

From Freddie’s reaction, I must not have had as good of control as I’d thought.

Regardless, I reached across the bar and sipped a fresh glass of blood Johnny had conveniently slid my way. Setting the glass down with immense care, I blinked and stared back at Freddie. I even said, “Actually, everyone does not know that. It is a theory, not a fact, Frederick.”

“Lucroy’s right, Freddie.”

I hadn’t seen Leon walk in. I’d known Leon for a little over three hundred years. Making him my second was a decision I’d never regretted.

“Evening, Lucroy.” Leon reached between Freddie and me, snagging the glass of warm blood Lizbeth had quickly set down. When I glanced up, Lizbeth was already heading back down the bar and away from our little vampire scuffle. Johnny remained where he was.

“Good evening.” I still held out hope that the evening would indeed improve.

Freddie was on a mission to prove me wrong. He stood and kicked his chair back. He looked Leon in the eye with a holier-than-thou huff and said, “Bullshit. It’s a fact. Horatio was, like, a thousand years old. He was even a member of the vampire council. He’d still be alive today if he hadn’t taken a long drought of pixie blood. It weakened him, and within a week, he was dead.”

It was a story every vampire knew, one told around campfires that burned into the wee hours of the morning. It was a cautionary tale. Pixie blood was toxic. Feeding from one had weakened and killed one of the strongest vampires of the day.

Leon’s throat worked, swallowing every drop in his glass, not a single red blood cell wasted. Setting the glass gently on the counter, he leaned back on his heels and shoved his hands into his pockets, his pose at ease. Leon’s nonchalance was in stark contrast to Freddie’s fuming tension.

With flaming-red hair, Leon’s equally fiery eyebrows rose high on his pale-white face. “Hmm, I suppose there’s that. But it’s one instance.” Leon shrugged. “Who knows what else Horatio got up to? Maybe it was just a coincidence.”

While I appreciated Leon’s practical, scientific mind, Freddie did not.

“Coincidence?” Freddie’s eyes looked like they might pop out of his head. Outrage flowed off him in thunderous waves. “If that’s what you think,” Freddie made a sweeping gesture that included me in his statement, “then you’re even stupider and weaker than I thought.”

And with that, Freddie had pushed me just a little too far. “If you truly believe me weak, perhaps you’d like to challenge me for leadership of the Southeast.”

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