Midnight Bite(5)

By: Cynthia Eden


The driver—pushing ninety but still as agile as a man half his age—pointed down the street. “She fled that way. I don’t think she was wearing shoes, so I imagine her feet are quite frozen by now.”

Devereaux growled.

“Will you be going after her? Or shall we call it a night?”

No, they weren’t calling it a freaking night. And, yes, of course, he was going after her. “Keep the limo running, Helsing. I’ll have her back in ten minutes.”

He bounded after—

“Midnight will fall in ten minutes, sir. Think you’ll be the one to claim her by then?”

If he didn’t know better, he’d think Helsing was taunting him. “Bet on it.” Because he hadn’t waited all of these centuries to find his queen…only to lose her in the final stretch of the race.

Lark Kinsley had been meant for him ever since she’d drawn her first breath. And he didn’t care how many werewolves, vamps, or demons he had to battle that night…

She was going to be his.





Chapter Two


New Year’s Resolution Number Two: Don’t be afraid to meet new people and try new things.

Too many humans were out celebrating on New Year’s Eve. The club was filled to over-flowing. Champagne was sloshing everywhere, and if one more person got in Devereaux’s way before he found his queen…

Devereaux had to fight the urge to sink his teeth into the humans around him. He didn’t have time for this. And since he didn’t have time to waste, he just leapt on the bar. The higher vantage point gave him a far better view of the place.

“What in the hell are you doing?” The bartender glared up at him. “Get your drunk ass down, right now!”

Devereaux turned his head, stared into the human’s eyes, and simply said, “I need to find Lark. Lark must be brought to me.”

The guy’s gaze went completely slack.

Devereaux turned back to the crowd. “Look at me!” His bellow cut through the music. Most of the humans immediately turned toward him. He let his power flow hot and hard through his veins. “I need Lark. A human female, dark hair, green eyes. She’s here, wearing a long, red coat.” His favorite color. “I want her brought to me.” He sent her image into their minds. All it took was a little psychic push, and then the crowd was moving as one. They turned. Rushed toward the back of the club.

“What in the hell? Let me go! Let me go!”

Ah, Lark’s voice. Angry. Snarling. Beautiful.

The humans carried her to him, and they lifted her onto the bar. She staggered a little, started to slip, so his hand flew out and curled around her wrist.

She was small, barely reaching his shoulders. Her body was curved and sensual, and she had the most amazing eyes. Such an unusual shade of green. Her lips were full and red, her neck graceful and—

Blood. The blood on her neck pulled him in. The scent was sweeter than any candy, more seductive than any expensive fragrance. His fangs burned in his mouth, and all Devereaux wanted was to sink his teeth into her. To taste her. To have her.

Forever.

“What did you do to them?” She didn’t fight his hold. She also didn’t pull out her stake. A good sign. Maybe.

Devereaux shrugged. “Compulsions might not work on you, but the humans here aren’t immune.”

“Stop it. Don’t make them puppets. Let them go!”

If that would make her happy…with his free hand, he snapped his fingers. Immediately, the crowd of humans went back to drinking. To dancing. To celebrating.

Her breath heaved in and out. She yanked at the hand he held in his grasp, and Devereaux let her go.

She didn’t immediately jump from the bar. Or run. So he figured they were making progress.

“You just used a compulsion on a whole bar full of humans.” The pulse at the base of her throat jerked, and he couldn’t look away from it. Or from the drop of blood that slid down her neck. “You must be incredibly powerful.”

Well, he didn’t like to brag but…hell, yes. He was powerful. “The most powerful vampire on the continent.” His hand reached out, and he caught the drop of blood. She went statue-still at his touch. “I won’t hurt you.” That wasn’t his intent. He wanted to give her pleasure. So much pleasure that she would just die from it.

Then come back to him. As his queen.

He brought her drop of blood to his lips. A little taste wouldn’t hurt anything…

He licked the drop of blood from his fingertip. Every muscle in his body immediately hardened as stark, desperate hunger consumed him. More. Want more.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered. “I’m not some snack for you.”

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