Page 4 of The Baritone's Rival

“I’m not jealous. Just because I’m not six foot two with a runner’s build likeOscardoesn’t mean I have back rolls,” he rebutted. “We’re not in the samefach. We don’t even have the same voice type. We’re not competing for the same roles. I have nothing to be jealous of.”

Julie smirked at him. “But youwillbe competing for that spot in the Manhattan Lyric program, right? And they’re only taking one dude.”

Trent didn’t reply. She wasn’t wrong. Oscar was yet another obstacle in his path.

Julie cocked her head. “And you’re mad because you think it’s easier being a tenor, that he doesn’t have to work as hard.”

“He doesn’t work as hard!”

Trent’s voice echoed off the concrete block walls. Trent took in a deep, calming breath. Julie opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Trent stalked away, and this time Julie didn’t follow, thank god. The last thing he needed was to spend a night out with Oscar Acosta, with his easy charm and his stupid smirk. Nothing would be more enraging. It was for the best, anyway. No matter what Anthony had said, the most important thing was to practice. He could get a life once his career was further along. Unlike Oscar, he didn’t have anything to fall back on.

Chapter 2

Oscar

The deep bass of the music vibrated Oscar’s insides. His soul wanted him out on the dance floor. The club was filled with beautiful men of all shapes and sizes: tiny pocket gays, muscular twunks, handsome daddies, boys next door, thin or built or curvy. The lasers and party lights reflected off the sheen of their bare skin, turning the place into a rainbow of hot guys. The collective musk pouring off their sweaty bodies simply enhanced the eroticism. It was a male smorgasbord.

Don’t get distracted, Oscar.

Oscar glanced around to see where his coven master was hiding. Hearing Freddie’s gruff British accent in his mind was always unsettling. He couldn’t help but picture Freddie’s square jaw and imposing, muscular figure. He was an intimidating man.

Freddie had only been his master for a year and Oscar was still adapting to the change. Despite his rough exterior, Freddie Grosvenor had shown him more kindness than the old coven master had ever bothered with. Charles Azarian had been an absolute dick, and that was putting it mildly. Oscar was glad he was dead.

I’m paying attention,Oscar responded in his mind.

Paying attention to the men, you mean?

Oscar’s cheeks warmed as he blushed. Hopefully Freddie and the other vamps couldn’t see it through the dark lighting. He had always considered his shamelessness one of his best qualities, but he was still finding his footing in the new coven. Some of the other vampires saw him as irresponsible, as some hedonistic club kid, but it wasn’t true. He was appreciative of everything Freddie and Anthony had done. He just got bored.

They’re on the move.

Oscar tore his eyes away from the feast of guys on display before him and scanned the perimeter. There. Two figures dashing through the door to the emergency stairwell, one of them carrying an unconscious, shirtless man in their arms. They moved faster than any human could perceive.

Oscar wasn’t any human. He wasn’t human at all.

He threaded his way through the crowd, the smells of sweat and sex filling his senses. He arrived at the same time as Freddie and Lillian, Freddie’s First. Lillian always managed to look glamorous somehow, a touch of shimmery highlighter kissing her brown skin. Her long, layered hair and flawless makeup masked a killer instinct.

“Let’s go,” Lillian barked and burst through the door. Oscar followed, with Freddie bringing up the rear. They raced down the uneven concrete stairs. The building was old and the stairwell was in rough shape, crumbling in places, with graffiti-covered walls that flew by as they descended.

They burst out onto an empty side street in the industrial district, where they were greeted by their quarry. Two vampires stood across from them. One was distressingly muscular and had a classic crew cut, as if he’d spent time in the military. The other was tiny, blonde, and lithe. The muscular vamp leaned against a large eighteen-wheeler that was parked by a nearby warehouse, the unconscious human nonchalantly slung over hisshoulder. In contrast, the twink stood frozen with his eyes wide and a nervous look on his face.

Oscar knew him. The vamp’s clothes were ragged, and he was gaunt and weak-looking, as if he hadn’t been feeding regularly, but it was definitely him. Justin. He’d clearly been through the mill.

They’d been friends back in the old days of the Azarian Coven. Justin had been turned maybe five years before the two of them met. He was so innocent at the time, but their coven had quickly beaten that out of him. He’d disappeared right before it got really bad. Oscar had been worried about him, but then Charles Azarian was killed. After that, Oscar had focused on staying alive as the coven disintegrated.

Lillian stepped forward, and Freddie fell in behind her. Oscar didn’t move, still lost in his memories.

Oscar.Freddie’s voice sounded inside his mind, dripping with annoyance.

Damn. He rushed to catch up as the Coven Master and his First confronted the two vampires.

“There’s no hunting in New York City,” Lillian said, her fangs peeking out of her mouth as she spoke. “If you need blood, you come to us.”

The small blonde trembled as he spoke. “We didn’t mean?—”

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