Page 74 of The Vampire Kingpin
Spider straightened in his chair. “No, it’s not. It’s the Krals’.”
“And you have an ‘in’ with them,” I pointed out, an idea taking shape.
“So I do...”
Our gazes locked, and somehow I knew his mind was working along the same lines as mine.
“Talk,” he told me. “I’m not making any promises, understand? But I wanna hear more.”
19
Spider
“This is so Goth.” Beneath her lacy, wine-colored mask, Lark’s heavily mascaraed eyes roved approvingly around the cavernous chamber. “I like.”
My own mask dangled from my hand. I followed her gaze to the iron chandelier studded with blood-red candles, and then to the deep purple roses twined with ivy creeping up the marble columns and over the bannisters.
“And this is just the entrance,” I murmured.
The Kral primus and his mate went all out for the Midnight Masquerade, throwing it in a massive subterranean hall. Music drifted up the stairs to where we waited to show our invitation—hand-crafted paper with a wax seal bearing the Kral wolf—to the pair of guards flanking the colossal iron doors.
Behind us, a crew of vampires and thralls got into line. The vampires, all top-tier syndicate players, oozed dominance. My own dominance flared in response. I grabbed Lark’s gloved hand and looped it through my arm, making it clear she was off limits.
Lark cast me a questioning glance but closed her fingers around the sleeve of my tux. I’d gone with a monochrome look tonight—black tux, matching shirt, a skinny black tie tucked into my satin vest. My lucky dagger was in a special pocket of the vest. If all went well, it would end the night in Jared Darkman’s heart.
“Mom would’ve killed for an invitation to this,” said Lark. “If only…” She bit her lower lip. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You miss them. I get it.”
In the two weeks since Lark had officially joined the lair, we’d spent nearly every spare minute together. I’d even started including her in my briefings with Velma and the rest of my top people. Her parents might’ve been selfish dicks, but they’d done a good job educating her. She was creative and quick-thinking, with this innate ability to adapt and innovate on the spot, and a knack for seeing things from angles most people missed.
Her presence brought a new energy to our group, challenging us to think differently and push the boundaries of our strategies. It was more than just her intelligence, though. Lark had a natural magnetism that drew people in. Her confidence and determination were infectious, inspiring those around her to rise to the occasion. She was fast becoming an indispensable part of my inner crew.
“I do.” She rested her head against my shoulder. “But I’m also angry at them. I know I should let it go, but….” She expelled a breath.
“I know.” I brushed my lips over her temple. That story she’d told about being “sold” to Jared Darkman still gave me chills. In my opinion, her folks had got what was coming to them. “But this is where you get your revenge, right?”
I hated even putting Lark in the same ballroom as Darkman, but we hadn’t been able to determine who in the lair was betraying us. (If, that is, Troll had told Lark the truth about someone feeding Darkman intel.) And her plan was solid—better than anything I’d come up with. If I wanted Darkman permanently out of the picture, this was our best option.
“True.” She brightened and lifted her head, the ruby-and-diamond encrusted gold hoops I’d given her earlier catching the candlelight. “And if Mom and Dad were here, they probably would’ve had me lifting that big-ass emerald on your finger.”
We both looked at my index finger. I snorted.
Lark chuckled…and something in me preened at knowing I’d cheered her up.
We reached the front of the line. One of the guards took our invitation, checking our names against a list. Lark got a second glance, his eyes lingering on the smooth skin exposed by the cutout over her breasts.
I growled lowly, and he swallowed and waved us through the doors. “Enjoy your evening, Sir. Madam.”
“Thank you,” Lark said with a regal nod.
With her hair up in a sleek black twist and a bored smile on her lips, she fit in with the other guests in a way I never would. Not that I gave a rat’s ass about fitting in. As far as I was concerned, the syndicates could shove their rules and hierarchies where the sun don’t shine.
But Lark was different. She was in her element, moving to the top of the wide marble staircase with a grace and ease that drew admiring glances. Commanding attention even among the vampire elite.
When this was over, a good man would pull some strings, help her escape my world. Someone with Lark’s looks, self-possession and chameleon-like ability to blend in anywhere from the Underworld to a posh ball could rake in serious cash selling her skills to the highest bidder.
Too bad I wasn’t a good man.
