Page 67 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
The doors aren’t closing.
“Fuck.” Grayson hits the button again.
I let out a harsh breath when they finally start to close. Before they shut, a female vampire runs inside.
“Hello,” she says to me with a fang filled sneer, completely ignoring Grayson.
He snaps her neck before she can touch me. I gasp in relief, holding my chest and staring at the now dead undead vampire.
“What the fuck was that about?” he asks, giving me a stern look.
“I was hungry. No one came to get me for dinner, so I went to the restaurant. I was minding my own business with my lil fet when out of nowhere these vampires start getting handsy.”
“Lil fet?” A smile breaks through his scowl. “What happened?”
I explain in detail how the vampires wouldn’t take the hint and how the asshole tried to use compulsion on me.
“So you stabbed him?”
Sighing, I lean against the wall of the elevator as we head toward the penthouse suit. “I don’t expect you to understand why I did it. He crossed a line, trying to compel me.”
Grayson’s eyes leave mine, and he stares at the little gap between the doors. His eyebrows pull down hard.
“What?” I ask.
“But it didn’t work, did it? The compulsion?”
There’s a moment where I contemplate lying, but I’ve already said too much, and he’s not easily fooled. “No,” I finally confess.
He frowns. “Do you realize what you’ve done, tiger?” Grayson’s question isn’t accusatory, it’s almost sad or pitying.
In truth, no, I don’t know what I’ve done. How much damage could I have caused tonight? Will Mateo regret keeping me alive and kill me now?
Chapter Eighteen
Demi
The penthouse costs more than my parents’ house five times over. The marble floors alone are probably more expensive than a new car. Threads of white ripple through the dark onyx, bringing depth and dimension to the flooring.
Grayson steps into a foyer—who has a foyer?—and waits for me to follow. My heart is weak, there’s been no rest for my poor organ between the attack and being brought to the boss. I bite my lip and wonder if I could press the button to close the doors before he could rejoin me.
I don’t have my switchblade anymore.
The vampire lying at my feet starts to stir and suddenly my mind is made up. Better the enemy you sort of know than the one you don’t. I step out right before the elevator closes and the engine whirs with its descent.
“This way,” he says.
He turns his back to me, stupid vampire, and proceeds through the foyer and down a hall on the right. There’s a vase of white roses, which are quite beautiful, on a fancy table next to me. I grab it and hurry after Grayson. The hallway opens to a large living room and he turns into it on instinct, not paying attention and looking down at his phone. I take the opening and raise the vase.
A strong hand clamps around my wrist. I let out an undignified squeak, and the vase falls from my hand and shatters on the marble. Grayson spins on his heel, still looking at his phone, and sighs.
“I’m starting to think you don’t like me, tiger.”
I ignore his comment and stare into eyes so dark I can’t tell where the boundary of the pupil ends and the iris begins. They hold me captive, and all of the fight leaves my body when he says, “Relax.”
Resistance is not an option, not like it was with the vampire in the restaurant. I will fall on my knees and crawl over the jagged glass if he asks me to. This alone is enough to terrify me. He invades my space and lifts my hand to his mouth. His tongue darts out to lick my bloody palm.
“She’s hurt,” he says, not moving his eyes from mine.
