Page 29 of The Vampire Kingpin
His eyes bugged out like a cartoon rabbit. “I—please, my lord. I’m sorry. I—it’s just Lark’s family.”
Like he cared. He wanted the money she brought in.
Velma pressed against my shoulder, her thick black braid falling forward over one breast, and slid a dagger between me and Grimclaw.
She dug the point into his crotch. “Let me cut him.”
He gave a girly shriek and tried to cover himself with his hands. I grabbed his wrists and forced his arms open, kicking his legs apart so he was spread-eagled against the wall.
“Spider.” His eyes pleaded with me, man to man. “You can’t let this bitch cut?—”
“She’s my lieutenant,” I interrupted. “Call her a bitch again and I’ll let her do anything she fucking pleases to you.”
Velma muttered in satisfaction.
“She doesn’t like men who sell women,” I added. “They trigger her.”
Grimclaw licked his lips. “I’m sorry, okay?” This time his pleas were directed at Velma. “I apologize if I insulted you.”
“Too late, asshole.” She cut a slit in the material next to the placket of his tight pants. “Lark’s your cousin, a member of your lair. You’re her alpha.”
“Not anymore,” I broke in.
“You were her alpha,” Velma corrected herself. “You’re supposed to protect her, not barter her like a piece of meat. You deserve to be punished.”
Her blade stabbed inside the slit she’d made in Grimclaw’s pants. He went rigid, coming up on his toes with an agonized groan.
“No, don’t,” he said, high and fast. “Please…I’ll get you the money. Whatever you say. Just please don’t cut me.”
I swallowed a grimace. It was instinctive, like Velma had touched that honed blade to my own dick, but I let her do her thing. She might be damaged—she’d been held captive by blood slavers for close to a year before I’d stumbled upon their lair and rescued her—but she had iron-hard control.
“You will get Spider his tribute,” she informed him. “But this is for Lark.”
Her hand jerked. Grimclaw’s scream echoed down the tunnel.
Velma and I released him, and he crumpled to the ground, hands over his crotch, the scent of his blood mixing with the dank air.
My lieutenant curled her lip. “You’ll be alright. I didn’t do anything permanent. But I will fucking neuter you if you ever try and pimp another woman.”
Grimclaw flashed her a look of hatred, quickly concealed.
“A week,” I told him. “You have one week to make your payment, or you’re out of here.”
His head snapped up. “You’d kick me outta the Underworld?”
“Fuck, yeah. You’re a piss-poor alpha. I can’t believe you haven’t been staked in your sleep with the shitty conditions you keep your people in.”
“Fine. You’ll get your damn money.”
“My lord,” Velma prompted.
His mouth formed a thin line. “My lord,” he mumbled.
We’d made an enemy there. I could live with that; the fool wasn’t much of an ally anyway, too weak to be a decent alpha. Even if he came up with the money, his lair was going to implode within a year. When they did, they’d turn on each other like a pack of starving dogs.
Lark was lucky to be out of there.
“I’ll expect my tribute next Sunday,” I informed him. “And again on the first of December.”
