There was more shouting as someone intervened in the fight.
The boy’s eyes were wide, bright white against his dark brown skin. His heartbeat thundered as he bordered on hyperventilating. I didn’t know if he was amped up from the almost miss, or because within a blink of an eye, I had him across the room. With a quick glance, I tried to determine if anyone else had seen, but all eyes were on the hot-headed drunkards.
“Jamal, are you okay?” a woman called nearby.
I stood up. “I think he’s alright, just a bit shaken up from watching a couple of douche nozzles.”
Turning to the woman, I stopped cold. She blinked in twin surprise. It was the woman who tried to save me from Bruiser last night.
Next thing I knew, I was looking down the barrel of her gun. With a quick scan of her outfit, I realized she was in hotel security garb and it had been her voice I’d heard breaking up the fight.
Slowly raising my hands, I considered the possibility of me surviving a gunshot to the face. I should have asked old Timmy more questions about my kind. Even if I survived her shot, I imagined it would not be a good time.
We were off to the side enough that no one noticed, and she kept her gun trained on me, but aimed so that her body hid the gun, avoiding a public panic.
“You’re a…” She faltered.
She’d seen the fangs. She saw how Bruiser and I had moved. Even if she couldn’t say it out loud, she knew what I was.
“Mom?” Jamal’s worried voice broke through the glazed terror in her eye. Her jaw hardened, and she narrowed her eyes at me.
“It’s okay, baby, come over and stand behind Mommy.”
Jamal seemed reluctant but obeyed his mother’s command.
“I didn’t hurt the boy. Have no intention of it,” I said, trying not to spook her. Did I have a calming voice? I should have asked his highness.
She snorted in disbelief.
Jamal tugged on the back of her shirt. “We flew like Superman, Mom.”
This was not good. Time to bolt. I turned and ran. I got two feet before colliding smack dab into the hard chest of someone who smelled like lilies, fresh-turned soil, and a musky cologne.
When I tilted my head up, the rugged, handsome face of his majesty greeted me. Gold arced from the center of his irises. Fury tightened his impossibly handsome face.
“Going somewhere?”
Blood clots.
8
The vampire had not only escaped the penthouse somehow, she had snuck into my private work chambers and then tried to run for it. I had underestimated her, a mistake I would not make a second time. I squeezed her arm with bruising force. Only the corners of her eyes gave away her wince.
If we hadn’t been in public, I might have throttled her.
The hotel security guard looked back and forth between Vivien and me, uncertainty in her eye, gun still drawn.
“Thank you for your help, Miss—?”
“West. Miranda West.” Her posture and tone remained rigid. Apparently, my charm was a bit rusty. Used to be I could have a woman fawning over me with a mere look.
The way she regarded Vivien with wary, wide eyes tipped me off she was cognizant of thestrangein her midst.
“Ms. West.” I bowed my head. Turning, never losing my grip on Vivien, I said, “Timothy, if you could properly thank Ms. West for her help, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
“What has she done?” Miranda asked, skepticism as thick as the waft of greasy fries in here.
“My aide will explain everything.” I attempted to smile but based on how the kid both jerked and grasped at his mother’s hips, it came off menacing. A side effect of spending too much time judging souls in the antechamber.
