Mackenzie kept her eyes on Dom as she introduced them. When Dom gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head, a huge weight lifted from her shoulders.
He was safe! Her brother was safe.
“I’m sorry Vanessa couldn’t come,” she said. “I hope that didn’t cause any trouble between you guys.”
“Nah, I love last-minute stuff. Vanessa—not so much.”
They ordered a round of drinks and appetizers, and as they waited for their food, Corey talked about school, Dom told him the abbreviated version of what he did for a living, and Mackenzie filled him in on her website, trying to act excited. She decided not to tell Corey about Martin—at least not right now, not while the pain of losing him was so fresh. The server returned a few minutes later with a pitcher of Hefeweizen,teriyaki beef skewers and a huge plate of nachos for Corey, along with his always necessary side of Thousand Island dressing.
“So how did you get that nasty-looking raspberry?” she asked. “Looks like it hurt.”
“Skateboarding, but don’t worry.” He held up his hands, a chip clutched between his finger and thumb as he made a goofy okay sign. “Had a helmet on, so you can relax. A buddy opened up a new indoor skate facility in South Tacoma. One of the rails was slicker than I expected, and bam.”
Dom gave her a dry look, and she lifted one eyebrow. See what I’m talking about? With the hint of a smile, he shook his head and grabbed another skewer.
“What else have you been up to?” Mackenzie asked as she ran a finger around the thick rim of her beer glass. Dom put a beef skewer on her plate, but she knew it’d sit there untouched. She wasn’t very hungry. “Did you get that money I deposited in your account for books?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Corey dipped a cheese-and-jalapeno-laden chip into the Thousand, crammed the whole thing into his mouth and started talking. “Visited Mom the other day. She looked pretty good. Said you and your—” Corey swallowed and laughed, took a swig of his beer. “Sorry, Mom thinks you guys are married.”
Mackenzie glanced at Dom and saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
“What’s Vanessa been up to?” Mackenzie asked, changing the subject. “I’m sorry she couldn’t make it tonight.” Not really, but she felt it was her duty to at least ask about his live-in girlfriend of the past year.
“Same old. Her Seasonal Affective Disorder is giving her a lot of trouble ’cuz of the dark winter and dreary spring. Even with one of those light boxes, she says she’s not getting enough UVA or UVB. All she wants to do is lie around and watch videos.”
Somehow, Mackenzie doubted Vanessa’s bad attitude could be blamed entirely on SAD. She was bitchy in the summer months, too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Pavlos set his phone down and glided to the two-way mirror on the far side of the small room. One of his most capable lieutenants was preparing for an important pickup. He was to report back as soon as he made the capture, hopefully in the next few days.
He watched through the glass as two Darkblood doctors, outfitted with personal oxygen masks, strapped a struggling woman to a laboratory table. Too bad she couldn’t be sedated for the tests, as he’d like to be in the room and personally oversee the whole procedure. But he just couldn’t tolerate a screaming human unless he had his teeth embedded in soft flesh, and then it would be sweet music when the sound vibrated against his lips. Without the vein, it was fingernails on a chalkboard.
Considering her dyed hair and the faint wrinkles around her eyes, he guessed her age to be around forty-five. Rather remarkable she’d lived this long, he thought, as her legs went into the stirrups. Sweetblood was compelling to all vampires, not just Darkbloods. Even neophytes made mistakes.
With a ring-laden hand, he wiped the corner of his mouth as he watched the action unfold. It had been at least three weeks since he’d drunk off the hoof from a sweetblood, and he wasso damned thirsty. The weak energies in the Pacific Northwest population weren’t helping, either. Why the hell did any vampire choose to live up here?
Although he couldn’t wait to get back home, he had been dreaming of this day forever. The day all vampires would look back on and recognize as a defining moment in their history. A history that he’d shaped and created. Would he have a day named in his honor? A statue erected? Euphoria lifted him off his feet, and he ghosted closer to the viewing window.
Soon everyone would see him as the reformer he was, bringing glory back to their kind, elevating them to the top of the food chain again, where they rightly belonged. All those doubters, those weak Council followers, would bow down before him.
He wiped his moist hands on the folds of his black robe. Yes. Those who’d laughed him off as a feeble, ineffectual youthling would be forced to admit he was right. That their kind did become stronger on a diet consisting strictly of human blood.
A heady scent poured off his skin, and he inhaled. It was the scent of a leader.
If things went as planned, in less than a year, when the first batch of sweetbloods was born, the lucky souls who chose to follow him would be granted unlimited Sweet. How much blood could they take from a human infant without killing it? They’d soon find out. If things progressed well up here, the other labs around the country were set to become operational shortly, and then they’d have a plethora of test subjects. Many of his kind had never even tasted Sweet before and when they did, he had no doubt he’d have throngs of eager followers. No, he wasn’t about to let the momentous events of the next few days pass without witnessing every last detail himself.
He tilted his head as the woman screamed, but he didn’t hear a thing. Thank God for soundproof glass. Maybe she wouldn’tpass the tests. Sweet from a vial didn’t compare to the energies one could get straight from the source. Forty-five was a bit old to bear children, so it was a definite possibility she’d fail to qualify for their little project. If so, he’d have her brought around to his quarters for disposal.
One of the doctors, holding a metal instrument, stepped between her spread legs. The woman twisted, tried to buck her hips up from the gurney. Was that glitter polish on her toenails? With narrowed eyes, the Overlord noticed her manicured fingernails, too. She was a woman who took care of herself.
He pressed the intercom button. “Remove the sheet.” The woman’s head cranked around in the direction of the speaker, and someone whipped off the hospital-blue cloth.
As the Overlord eyeballed her heavy breasts, curvy hips, and shapely calves, his erection tented the fabric of his robe. On second thought, maybe he’d have a little fun first. Licking his lips, he watched as the testing began.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“So what did you need this for again?” Mackenzie put her driver’s license back into the slot in her wallet.
