Page 34 of Property of Scar

Bennett huffs. “I’m going to smite you.”

Rhett chuckles mischievously. “Kinky.”

The hundreds of years of vampire speed put me between them before either dumb bastard fully processes I moved.

One second, they’re mouthing off.

The next, I am in their faces.

I let my eyes bleed red as I crowd forward, letting my hunger off the leash just enough for them to feel it. It rolls out of me, filling the room with the kind of violence that’s soaked into my bones after centuries of ripping threats apart with my bare hands.

No bluffing, no performance, just pure animalistic violence.

I want them to understand exactly what they’re standing in front of. I am not the man delivering the warning. I’m the chaos that comes after somebody is too fucking stupid to listen to the warning.

Both of them freeze, instincts finally kicking in hard enough to override the ego. Smart. Because every living thing on this earth knows when death just stepped into the room wearing skin and biker leathers. And right now, I’m starving for an excuse to cause a little death.

“Both of you…” My voice drops low enough to scrape across the room like a blade being dragged from a sheath. “Move. Now! Before I rip your throats out in front of the entire club and let the hunter watch what happens to disrespectful little bastards who forget whose territory they’re standing in.”

“I’m mid-tattoo?” Bennett debates.

I raise my brow at him as Wreck withdraws the gun with a soft chuckle. “You gonna argue with your VP, prospect?” Wreck drawls, his wendigo tone seeping through to give it a little extra oomph behind it.

Bennett’s eyes widen as the fear creeps over him. He sits up, and Rhett is already standing and starting to walk off as Bennett takes off after him. “Hey, wait up, mutt!”

Rhett chuckles. “I’m not sticking around for your ass-whooping, feathers. Don’t drag me into your insubordination. So much for thou shalt obey?”

“Shut up!” Bennet drones as they rush off down the hall together, the door closing behind them with a small, careful click that carries more self-preservation than any apology could.

The room carries on around me, the Kings of Anarchy doing what they’ve done for decades, the empire running on its own momentum, carrying itself forward long after the foundations were laid.

I turn back toward Cali and find her already watching me over Roxy’s shoulder. Her face stays unreadable. Mine probably does too. But the second our eyes lock, something tight and dangerous pulls between us anyway. Hotter than the room, sharper than the bullshit about alliances, ritual circles, or the temporary arrangement forcing us onto the same side of this mess.

This is something else.

Something that keeps hitting between us, whether either of us wants it there or not.

The clubhouse noise fades at the edges for half a heartbeat while we hold each other’s stare across the room.

Then Cali looks away.

And for some reason, that feels a hell of a lot more important than it should.

Chapter Ten

CALYPSO

Meet Raze, discuss the shit that’s going down, and get the hell out of here before my urge to kill one or more of these fucking creatures get the better of me.

That was the plan.

At least it was, right up until Roxy turns those bright, earnest eyes on me and says, “You’re eating with us tonight,” in a tone that doesn’t have a question anywhere in it, and my brain, which has kept me alive through a dozen situations that should have ended me, goes completely blank.

So now I’m sitting at a table the length of a small aircraft carrier, surrounded by what is technically an outlaw motorcycle club full of supernatural beings who were ready to put weapons in my direction approximately four hours ago, and I am eating roast chicken.

Roast-fucking-chicken?

I honestly never thought this was what the Kings of Anarchy would have at their dinner table. A virgin sacrifice, or at least a goat sacrifice. Some kind of sacrifice! But not a fucking home-cooked family meal like it’s any given Sunday.