Page 38 of Cloak of the Vampire
No, we were not.
Ragnor released me and jumped back, then circled me like a shark as I rose slowly and unstably to my feet once more. His eyes were trained on me, not bothering to hide his disapproval. I didn’t care about what he disapproved of. I didn’t care about him at all, in fact. I cared about only one thing.
Winning.
Without thinking twice, I ran toward him and feigned a punch, which he of course noticed, but then I crouched on the ground and grabbed his ankle with everything in me. My fangs popped out, and I lowered them toward the skin of his leg.
He caught the nape of my neck and pulled me off him as though I was a misbehaving cat. Once we were face to face, he said, “Again.”
I gave him a strained smile full of teeth. His eyes narrowed farther at the sight.
Like a pitcher, he threw me away; I landed on my knees but quickly stood up and attacked him again.
Ragnor quickly pushed me on my butt before yelling “Again” with exasperation in his voice.
At some point, I managed to get my fangs about an inch away from his left bicep, and that was when he flipped me over, forcibly cocked my head to the side, and grazed my skin with his fangs. “Yield,” he said, and this time, there was no room for argument or more tries.
My skin burned,achedfor him to do more than simply graze my neck ... and the power of that frustrated desperation scared the shit out of me.
I needed him to let me go before I did something stupid, even if my body begged otherwise.
My need to win was strong, and it wanted me to best him, no matter the means. I knew I could do it by catching him off guard, like kissing him or something absurdly dangerous like that.
But my self-preservation was far stronger. With him over me, his hot breath on my neck, his fangs close to my skin, his soft hair brushing against my earlobe making me lose my mind, all thoughts of winning evaporated and were replaced by the undiluted instinct to protect myself.
And it was that blazing, pure terror that was my undoing. “I yield.”
CHAPTER 14
The dishwashing team for today’s shift consisted of four vampires: Jada, CJ, Bowen, and me. I was glad to see Jada again, and it appeared she wasn’t the only kind vampire in the Rayne League; CJ and Bowen were just as welcoming.
It also helped that the dishwashing took place at the end of the day, when Lon was already gone, leaving a sense of quiet peace in his absence.
“Bowen’s the oldest one working in the kitchen after Lon,” Jada, the only talkative one of the bunch, told me as she rinsed the special-edition china plates and I dried them. “He’s been in the League since 1984. Our Lord bought him at the Auction and had to fight for him, too—apparently, Lord Renaldi believed he would turn out to be Gifted later on, and our Lord thought so too.”
A snort echoed from the pot-cleaning station. “The only Gift I have is staying out of our Lord’s hair when he’s angry,” Bowen, the source of the snorting, said bitterly.
Jada shot him a disapproving look. “You should be thankful he hasn’t sent you back to Renaldi, free of charge, you useless oaf.”
Bowen showed her a middle finger full of dishwashing-soap foam.
“Anyway,” Jada said, handing me a fine-china plate before taking a glass and rinsing it, “Bowen was lucky. Our Lord rarely buys any vampires in those Auctions; he only spends money when he’s absolutely sure the vampire’s worth it.”
This wasn’t exactly surprising, but no one had confirmed it before. Thanks to Jada, I now knew how slim my chances really were. I frowned, mulling it over as I wiped the plate dry and set it aside. “Why does he give the Imprint to so many of them, then?” I asked.
Jada grimaced. “Each Lord chooses people to give the Imprint to by only one criteria: if there’s a chance they might be Gifted, or become Gifted the older they grow as vampires.” Her washing motions turned fast and a tad bit too strong. “No Lord wants to be stuck with too many Commons, but that’s inevitable, of course, since there’s no guarantee any of those who received the Imprint will turn out to be Gifted, what with the Gifteds consisting of about fifteen percent of the vampire population to start with.”
It appeared Jada was a fountain of knowledge and even more of a chatterbox than I previously thought. “So how do they choose?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.
Jada let out a rough sigh as she practically shoved the glass into my hands. “The official Imprinting law dictates that every human who wishes to become a vampire should have that opportunity.” She scowled. “That’s how the waiting list came into being.”
“How does it work, though?” I asked, thinking back to the Secrecy Agreement that Margarita had me sign. “Isn’t the existence of vampires top secret?”
“It is.” Jada put down the fine china and grabbed a glass of blood, then sipped it. “This is why each Lord has recruitment agents. They find the right people and the right circles to spread the word, have them sign the mandatory NDA, bring them to events, and put them on the waiting list.”
“CJ used to be an agent,” Bowen said, leaning against the counter near us with his arms folded. He jerked his head toward the tall, tanklike Black man who was looking at us from where he cleaned the kitchen islands. “Isn’t that right, C?”
He nodded, not stopping his motions.
