Page 67 of Barely Breathing

“What are you doing here?” Chester demands. “This doesn’t concern you.”

I pass the window and manage to huddle in the corner of the room, hoping they forget about me.

“What is in that container? What are the werewolves planning?” Costin growls, the demon in his voice. His eyes churn with crimson, and his face distorts into that of a monster. Bared fangs threaten Chester, who throws a barrage of fireballs at the vampire. Costin dodges most of them but catches a couple on the forearm. He hisses in pain.

“You can’t do this,” Chester warns. “You know what will happen if you kill me. The council?—”

Costin moves faster than my gaze. Before I realize where he is, he has Chester by the throat. “Will never find your body.”

“Kill me, and they’ll give Elizabeth your power,” Chester says, squirming in fear. “The Freemonts are too powerful. Even for you, bloodsucker.”

I’m surprised when that threat seems to work. He tosses Chester at the door. The man stumbles, backing away as he keeps his eyes on his enemy.

“That shipment is going to be lost at sea. I’ll take care of the rest.” Costin’s fangs catch the red light, and I can’t stop staring at them. The creature terrifies me. In return, I barely seem to register with him. “And you’re going to let it happen.”

“She’s seen too much. The Alpha will never lether live,” Chester warns. He raises his hands, magic gathering. “Let me take care of her. No one has to know we were here.”

Suddenly, the lights flicker back on. Chester’s relief is almost palpable, and he grins. “You’re too late. We have it.” His gaze flickers to me, and he winks. “Kill her, or the others will.”

I clutch my neck. Not only is it bruised and sore, but now I have a full-blown vampire alone with me in the room, and he looks mean enough to feed.

Chester flees. I hear his feet running down the hall toward the elevators. I should be grateful, but all I can think about is how this will probably cost me my life.

“Please,” I mouth, shaking my head as I hold my neck to hide my arteries. I know it’s useless. If he wants me, he’ll get me. “No, no, please, no.”

Costin seems torn between following Chester and looking at me. Finally, he comes toward me, and I lift my hands, cowering. Everything inside me shakes.

Pale fingers come at me. I flinch as they wrap my arm. I have no choice as he lifts me to stand before him.

His eyes take in my expression, and slowly, the worst part of the monster fades. “What was in the container?”

“Art supplies? Cigars?” I manage.

Costin’s brow furrows in displeasure. His eyes swirl, and I feel myself being compelled to answer.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I swear. The weight doesn’t match the original manifest. The paperwork’s been forged. I didn’t do?—”

“Do you know anything useful?” He has that same patronizing tone I get from my family. I hate it. “Tell me.”

“Chester’s a creep who follows his father’s example with women. I’m not about to become another Mabel Freemont, pretending I don’t know about my husband’s mistresses.” I don’t mean to say it, but it’s the truth. The words feel forced out of me. “I don’t want to marry Chester Freemont. I’d rather you eat me.”

His lip twitches up at the corner. Light reflects in his eyes, making him look human… well, almost. “Don’t tempt me.”

I should be scared, but there is something a little sexual in the way he says it. This is not a side of the vampire I remember seeing as a child.

The crimson swims harder, and his gaze pulls me into his will. “Do you have any idea what you’ve stumbled into?”

I shake my head, unable to look away from him. In the distance, I hear a werewolf howl. Costin tenses as if torn on what he should do next.

“Did you see anything about the shipment thatcan be of use to me?” he demands, more specific in his questioning this time.

“Magical words. Um,” I try to remember what showed when Chester’s magic infused the documents. “Something like…?” I shake my head. “I can’t remember.”

I feel like claws are reaching into my brain and forcing memories out. I try to pull away but can’t.

“What was it?” he asks as if trying desperately to unbury the thought.

“I don’t know. I don’t speak the old languages.” I’m too scared and sore to focus. “There were so many strange symbols.”

---