Page 4 of The Vampire Kingpin
The humans muttered and shot me irritated looks. “Rude,” said a woman under her breath.
I flashed my fangs at her. She blinked, then eyed me, interested now. Too bad I didn’t have time to play.
Where was Spider?
Scanning the area for a tall, brown-skinned man in a gold-and-brown paisley shirt, I eased backward through the mass of people. Hoping against hope I’d lost him.
The gash on my palm had finally healed over. I balled up the bloody tissues and shoved them into a trash can, hoping to throw him off the scent.
Gradually, the crowd thinned. I sidled up next to a cross-dressing Morticia in towering heels. Maybe Spider would think we were a duo.
Morticia dipped their chin to me, unsmiling. “Daughter.”
“Mother,” I replied with an equally straight face, pretending interest in the parade at the other end of the block.
A float rolled past, its DJ hyping up the crowd, the heavy beat of techno bouncing off the brownstones. Footsteps sounded to our left. I chanced a look around Morticia’s flowing black dress and caught a glimpse of gold stretched across broad shoulders. He was looking the other way, his brown skin glowing faintly in the darkness like it was moon-touched. A vampire’s tell. One that, as a dhampir, I shared.
Hell.
Heart hammering, I attempted to melt into the shadows, even though I was running on fumes. After a few shaky seconds teetering between the physical and twilight worlds, I gave up and ducked into an alley, hugging the wall until I reached a beat-up dumpster. It reeked like something had died in there, but the stench would cover my scent.
Darting around the dumpster, I pressed my back to the gritty brick wall on the other side, taking shallow breaths through my mouth. I palmed my switchblade, wincing as the handle brushed my wound, and wedged myself into the corner made by the dumpster and the wall.
The footsteps halted.
I stilled and held my breath.
The air stirred. Icy prickles skittered up my spine.
The dumpster lid creaked. Spider—because it had to be him—had climbed on top of it. My head jerked up. A man’s shadow loomed on the bricks above me.
I bolted for the alley’s end.
I didn’t make it three steps before he crashed onto my back, taking me to the pavement. The impact drove the air from my body. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
Strong thighs straddled my hips. I bucked wildly, trying to throw him off.
Cold silver touched my throat. “You know what I do to thieves?” he said against my ear.
I froze. “I—I—” I dragged in some much-needed oxygen and wriggled my hips, using the distraction to shove the switchblade back into my pocket.
His blade held steady against my skin, the silver burning like a bee sting. “Talk. Where’s my dagger?”
I rested my cheek against the asphalt and rasped, “Don’t know.”
“Like Hades you don’t.” He screwed the point deeper, making me suck in a pained breath. “Lie to me again and I’ll cut your goddamn tongue out.”
I gulped. Jesus, the man was cold. I’d been right to stay out of his way.
He lifted the blade from my neck. “Let’s try that again. Where’s my dagger?”
“I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong person.”
Technically, it wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t said what I was the wrong person for.
A harsh sound low in his throat was my only warning before the alley spun around me and I was flat on my back. Spider shoved a blade into a leather holster and straddled my chest. His hands landed on my shoulders, pushing me into the pavement.
He examined me from beneath long, thick lashes. “Where is it?”
