Page 41 of Fated In Blood

Steven shrank back and shot me an apologetic look.

“Who do you think you are, coming in here like you own the fucking place? But you’re going to learn…Yeah, you’re going to learn.” He dragged me off the barstool and jerked his head to Steve. “Tell everyone there’s a fight in five minutes. They can place their bets with the twins.”

I let him tug me along because…honestly, some dark part of me was hungering for what waited downstairs. The violence. The thrill of the hunt. The blood.

The fact I couldn’t wait to see what my new body could do.

No. Wait.I’m not hungering for blood, and this is a bad idea.

I didn’t know anything about being a goddamned vampire. There had to be some kind of secret code or something, given they managed to remain hidden from most of humanity, and until I figured out the fucked-up society I was part of—the one that included Laurent Tyrell—I had to be cautious.

“Not tonight.” I ripped my arm out of Vincent’s grasp, his nails leaving bloody furrows in my skin. Damn, even the scentof my own blood made me dizzy. “Any night but tonight.” I had to get out of here. Had to lock myself in my apartment until I figured out how to deal with this new me, because damn, I was completely out of control.

“You will do what I say.” Vince yanked out his phone. “Now get down those steps while I make a call.”

“You’re determined to go through with this?”

Yes, yes, yes, my hunger chanted.Give us blood.

Then I didn’t have a choice as Vince’s two biggest, meanest bouncers came up behind me, hands on their weapons. Their identical heads kind of melted into their identical lumps of shoulders, like nature had skipped the neck on these two.

“You either fight for me, Evie, or I’ll have these two take you out back and put a bullet in your brain.”

“Seriously? Those are my choices?” Vincent’s twin nephews were only loyal to him, and since I hadn’t exactly been nice to them in the past, they shoved me down the stairs. A week ago, I would have ended up at the bottom in a heap of broken bones, but vampire reflexes sent me soaring through the air so I landed lightly on my feet.

Okay, that was seriously cool. Another check in the positive column.

But God, it stank down here. “Did you dress a deer down here or something? This basement fucking reeks.” The twins trundled down the stairs like a couple bobble heads while I carefully stowed my leather jacket beneath the steps, giving it a fond pat. The old coat was the only thing of value I owned, though not the monetary kind.

This had belonged to my mother.

Angelique had gotten Mom’s looks, but I’d gotten the coat.

In short order, a steady stream of eager patrons filed down the steps, drinks in hand, money in the other. Bets were placed, none of them on me. Too fucking bad.

Vincent was the last to arrive, and only once I was hemmed in by the tight ring of people with bloodlust glowing in their eyes. Not a coincidence, me thinks. “We’re waiting for tonight’s opponent,” he announced, his tone as oily as always. “Should be here any minute.”

Waiting patiently while your head was on the chopping block was not easy. Even harder when you were trying to hide the fucking daggers growing out of your mouth and the fact you wanted to pounce on the nearest frat boy and shotgun him like a Nattie Light.

But I had years of self-control and training.

I could get through one ten-minute fight, though some evil part of me was tempted to set a record and make this a one-second fight, given how pissed off I was.

But twenty minutes was Vince’s sweet spot, and I needed to get out of here alive and still put on enough of a show I’d be off Vince’s radar for a few weeks. Long enough to buy me some breathing room.

I didn’t need to be on Vince’s radar right now, because frankly, I had much bigger problems.

Vincent—predictable to the end—was going through his usual schtick when my eyes swung to the pair of scuffed-up boots prowling down the steps, the wooden treads groaning beneath the weight. I shifted to get a better view over the crowd, all singularly focused on Vincent Valentine and his amazing chest hair.

The man’s bulked-up body came into view next. He was built like a warrior, muscled arms stretching the fabric of his coat, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. This was no soft college boy. This was a grown ass man trained to fight.

I could tell by how casually he moved for someone so big, like his body was a weapon.

“…biggest, meanest fight we’ve ever held here at Valentine’s. Last chance to place your bets.” Vincent waved his arms wildly in the air and the throng erupted.

Every instinct screamed at me toget out of here, but where could I go?

Those stairs were the only way in or out.

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