Page 44 of The Baritone's Rival

“Elliott.”

“My mate.” Trent still couldn’t make out a face, not really, but he could tell that the vampire was big. He filled the whole door frame, an intimidating mountain of muscle and presence. His voice was low and powerful and dripping with possessive contempt. There was something about it that felt familiar to him.

“I’m not your mate. I have never been your mate.” The terror in Oscar’s voice struck a deep chord in Trent’s chest. It frightened him, but more than that, it filled him with rage. No one should speak to Oscar like that. No one should get to scare him.

Elliott stepped into the room, revealing himself as the dim lamplight hit him. His broad, square face was an intimidating sight. With his jawline and his just-kinda-there haircut, he had the looks and demeanor of an overgrown frat boy. He might have been handsome if his expression wasn’t so nakedly greedy. Again, Trent felt a spark of memory. Did he know this man?

In his outstretched arms, Elliott carried a limp mass of black fur, marked with a few bloodstained streaks of white. It took Trent a moment to realize that it was Rhonda, the alpha of the nearby pack. He flinched as Elliott dumped the body unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor with a thud.

“Found her skulking in the woods around the cabin. You really shouldn’t trust wolves.”

Trent’s chest tightened with guilt at his words. She had only been trying to help them. She didn’t deserve death for that.

As Elliott stepped forward, two vampires filled in behind him. These two were not the ragged, desperate vamps that had attacked Oscar in Brooklyn. They were well-fed, their muscles flexing ridiculously as they took fighting stances, like American Gladiators getting ready to compete. A man and a woman, they looked surprisingly similar, as if they might be siblings. Both were short and solid, with narrow noses and small eyes.

“You’re coming with me now,” Elliott said, closing the distance to Oscar. Trent took a quick inventory around him. He was far from any stashed weapons, and there were no immediate substitutes nearby. Maybe the long, low cedar coffee table in front of him…he would have to move, but the eyes of the two henchvamps were trained on him. They weren’t fucking around.

“No…I’m not.” Oscar’s voice trembled as he defied his ex-boyfriend. “Justin?” he called out to his friend’s closed bedroom door. “We could use your help!”

Elliott sneered. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll be helping you. He’s busy.”

Trent tried to parse the meaning behind the man’s arrogant tone. Had they done something to Justin? Broken in through the bedroom window? He and Oscar really needed him. Three vampires against a vampire and a human weren’t good odds.

When it was clear that Justin wasn’t coming out to fight, Oscar turned back to his ex. He had recovered from the initial shock, and now there was fire in his voice.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you dead?”

Elliott laughed, the sound like gravel grinding in a cement mixer. “You think any of those weak-willed vampires in our old coven could killme?”

Elliott stepped in farther toward Oscar, who was now backed up against the turquoise shellac of the propane refrigerator. Oscar’s eyes darted back and forth, searching for some way out.

“And I’m here, my little mouse, because after you killed Rick, I knew you’d grown into a rat. One with a bite.”

“Ikilled that motherfucker.” The words were out before Trent could stop them. It was a terrible idea for him to draw attention to himself at that moment, but he couldn’t keep quiet. Elliott shouldn’t get to threaten Oscar. He wasn’t even good enough to wash Oscar’s boxer briefs.

“The human. How quaint.” Elliott didn’t bother to look at Trent as he spoke. “You’ll be dead soon enough, and I’ll have my mate back with me. You can’t tear asunder what fate has joined.”

With the flick of a hand, Elliott slashed across Oscar’s chest with his claw, cutting through his shirt and opening an angry-looking cut that immediately started to bleed. Oscar clutched at it, but the pain of it broke him out of his decision paralysis. His eyes flashed in defiance as he stood up to his ex.

“I don’t belong to you.”

“You need me. I can give you a sense of purpose. Your precocious little powers will keep the humans and vampires under my control. Build the new coven with me. Our empire. You’d make such a pretty coven master’s mate.”

“I’m not your mate,” Oscar said, pushing back against Elliott’s chest. The man was immoveable. “I found my mate.”

Elliott’s face transformed into a rageful mask. “Who is it?” he snarled.

Oscar shook his head. “He’s not for you. He only belongs to me. And I belong to him. You have no claim on me.”

Trent felt a pang of hurt at Oscar’s words. Why would Oscar have sex with him if he already had a mate? He hated the idea of predestination and vampire mates, but he hadn’t thought Oscar would be the type to toy with people. Maybe his initial impression of Oscar had been correct all along.

But fuck the pity party. He had to do something here. Oscar couldn’t take on his ex one-on-one, never mind when Elliott had backup.

Elliott lunged for Oscar, and Trent took his opportunity. He grabbed the coffee table and, in one fell swoop, broke the leg off from the rest of the wooden structure.

The vampires sprang into action, growling and hissing as their fangs dropped. Trent glanced down. It would take some strength, but the makeshift weapon looked sharp enough to pierce flesh. It was all he had, anyway.

The woman reached him first, swiping at him with her left claw. He managed to catch her wrist before she cut him, but only for a second. She was strong.

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