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“Fuck out of my way, Cassel,” the wolf replied, blade glinting as he held it behind his head, the muscles in his massive shoulder rippling.
“Why don’t you let me take care of her?” Darien suggested.
He tried to lunge, but Darien blocked his path.
“She’s trespassing!” Big thundered.
A startled cry slipped out of the vampire as she literally cowered at Darien’s back, hands in front of her face.
“Put the knife down, Big.” Big was running out of chances, and Darien’s hands were twitching with a dark and unstoppable need.
Big lunged—
Darien grabbed a fistful of his shirt collar and slammed him against the counter, Big’s sheer size making little difference under Darien’s firm grip. Dishes and utensils clattered to the floor as Darien snarled in his face, “Put the blade down, Big, or I’ll cut your throat open with it.”
Silence swept through the room, broken up only by the few staff members who dared to continue cooking and cleaning, fires roaring on gas stoves, pots and pans clinking together where they hung from hooks on shelves and cupboards.
And then Big lowered the blade.
Darien released him with a shove. “I’ll take her out of your hair,” he said, stepping back.
Big lifted his chin. “You do that.”
Darien called over his shoulder, “Send me payment by midnight or I’m coming back for your head.” Fifty Grimnachts was a hefty bill.
Where he stood with the others, arms crossed, a big grin on his face, Jack said, “He ain’t joking. He’s been talking about wanting a hunting trophy above our fireplace for a while.”
Darien jerked his chin at the vampire, who recoiled from the simple movement. “Let’s go talk outside.”
She didn’t hesitate to follow him, though she was trembling from head to toe, teeth chattering.
When they got outside, Darien tried not to crowd her, but the others standing in a loose half-circle around him didn’t help.
“Why did you come here?” Darien said, keeping his tone level and quiet. Even if she wasn’t a part of one of the major vampire houses in Angelthene, it was uncommon for a vampire to come into Werewolf Territory without good reason, especially to a nightclub that barred a single vampire from crossing the threshold. When she didn’t reply, Darien prompted, “Are you suicidal? What’s the deal?”
“I was brought here,” she stammered.
“You were brought here,” he repeated. “By who?”
She showed him her wrists—chafed, as if by rope.
Jack murmured, “What the hell?”
“I was taken,” the vampire said. Her throat bobbed. “The last thing I remember was having a drink with some friends at Her Infernal Majesty, and then I woke up in…in someone’s car, I don’t know whose.”
“You part of a house?” When she didn’t reply, Darien prompted Jack with a nod.
Jack stepped forward and grabbed her by the wrist, his other hand going to the pocket in his jacket.
The vampire jumped. “W-what are you doing?”
Jack pushed up her sleeve. Clicked on a small flashlight attached to his keys. The UV light passed over the inside of her wrist, revealing the torch symbol tattooed there.
He clicked it off. Looked at Darien. “Silver Torch.”
Darien faced the girl. “The people who took you,” he began. “Did they have tattoos?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t see.”
