Page 23 of The Baritone's Rival

Oscar’s eyes went wide at Anthony’s words, but he said nothing.

“Itissafer.” Well, the coven master finally speaks. Freddie’s accent-inflected bass was intimidating, but Trent wouldn’t be bullied out of his home.

“Yes, exactly,” Anthony piled on. “We don’t know who these people were, if they’re coming back, anything. You’re human. A human against even one vampire is like an ant against a mountain lion. Or Anna Wintour. An ant against Anna Wintour.”

“I’ve taken care of myself for a long time,” Trent said. His muscles tensed at Anthony’s insistence, and it made his injury throb.

Anthony shook his head. “Not against?—”

“Yes, against vampires.” Trent pushed down against the arm of the sofa, bringing himself to his feet. Oscar was by his side at once, steadying him. His grasp was strong but careful.

“Thank you,” Trent said under his breath, and Oscar nodded, worry in his eyes, but he didn’t speak.

“You may have gotten lucky against those thugs,” Anthony said, his voice tight with urgency, “but if they send more?—”

“It was not luck.” Trent was getting louder now. He wouldn’t let anyone deny his hard-won abilities. “That asshole wasn’t the first vampire I’ve killed, and he won’t be the last. But what I’mnotgoing to do is move into a house full of them.”

“You know us.”

“I knowyou, because you’re my voice teacher, and I know Oscar, barely. I don’t know any of the other vampires that live here. How many?”

“Fourteen right now, but?—”

“Anthony, he said no.” Oscar interrupted their teacher with a quiet determination. Trent felt a flowering of warmth in his chest as Oscar backed him up, which was immediately followed by suspicion. Why was Oscar taking his side?

“Besides,” he continued, “they were afterme. Why would they go after Trent?”

“Revenge. Leverage.” Freddie’s voice was gravel, his face an unreadable mask. “Trent. Who are you?”

Trent’s jaw tensed. He didn’t owe this coven master anything, certainly not an account of his shitty teenage years, even if hewasAnthony’s husband. He’d done his damnedest to forget them. He glared back at the redheaded coven master. He wouldn’t be intimidated.

“Someone who knows what the hell he is doing.”

Freddie nodded, not pressing further. He was silent for a moment, then spoke in a tone that would brook no disagreement.

“We’ll run security around your apartment.”

“I don’t want?—”

“And if theydocome for you,” Freddie continued, ignoring him, “we’ll need an alternative. You’ll have to go away, get out of the city.”

“I have a cabin in Maine if necessary.” Everyone turned to Anthony on the sofa. Trent groaned inwardly at the possibility of some other scheme. They should just let him alone to defend himself, like he always did.

“My nonna’s old place,” Anthony continued. “It’s secure. Nothing around for miles other than a pack of wolf shifters, and they’re friends.”

“What?” Trent blinked, thrown off balance by this new piece of information. “Werewolves? Those are a thing?”

“Not exactly werewolves, no,” Freddie answered. “They can control the change. And yes, they are real. Vampires aren’t the only supernatural beings. Wolves tend to stay rural and isolated.”

“Regardless, it’s safe,” Anthony said. “The two of you could head up there until Freddie and Lillian have taken care of the last dregs of the old coven.”

Trent sighed in frustration. He hated dealing with coven masters, and even more with their mates. They were alwayscertain they were right, and they had the power to enforce their notions.

“We both have class,” Oscar spoke up from beside him. At least there was someone who got it.

“I’m not missing audition season.” Trent would not back down from that.

“Of course not,” Anthony replied, as if this was an opening. “The audition for the Lyric program is the earliest, and that’s in four weeks. Plenty of time. I wouldn’t let you miss it. We all know one of you two will get it.”

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