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When he could, he looked down and watched his cock go in and out. His black come was dripping free from her, glossing him up, puddling on the white floor.
But not everything was leaking free. Some of him was staying, deep inside of her.
Not that he cared about that.
No, really. Not at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Right before the attack, Shuli couldn’t understand what his eyes were seeing. Even though he’d known about lessers, as a precious son of an aristocratic family, he had been sheltered from so much. But the smell, that baby powder smell, he’d heard about that—and then there was the oozing black blood that covered a camo jacket and trailed behind the undead on the sidewalk.
How was the thing that injured and still moving?
And then he did the math.
“Theox!” he called out. “Alfie!”
The two vampires who were smoking hash were too into their drugging to notice the slayer, and even him yelling their names didn’t—
The lesser grabbed on to Alfie’s shoulders and yanked him back, a Bic going airborne, the little flame extinguishing on the fly as Theox shouted and jumped away. Even though the undead was in a decayed state, it was still strong enough to overpower its prey, and Shuli was halfway across the parking lot to them when he realized he had his gun on him.
The nine millimeter that he barely knew how to use.
Unholstering the weapon from the small of his back, he palmed it and tried to get a clear shot while Alfie fought to shove off the slayer. Meanwhile, Theox stumbled toward the door back into the club and started yanking against the locked handle.
“Stop!” Shuli yelled at the lesser. “I’ll fucking shoot!”
The slayer had Alfie by the throat, the vampire clawing at the hands locked around his neck—and then they were down on the pavement, rolling around until the enemy was on top—
“I’m gonna shoot!”
Shuli circled the struggle, until he dropped to one knee and aimed. He knew he needed to hit the lesser’s head straight on, without any angle to the bullet, or he risked wounding Alfie. But there was too much—
A flash of movement went by in front him, and then Nate threw himself at the lesser, knocking it away—but the undead took its prey along for the ride, a tangle forming among the three of them. There was a scream, the scent of fresh blood, and suddenly Nate was cast off as if he’d been shot out of a cannon, his body flying toward the back of the club with such force that he traveled far enough to bowling-pin Theox—
Shuli pulled his trigger once. Twice. Sparks lit off on the asphalt across the parking area, and the stench of baby powder exploded into the night air. But if he’d hit the thing, it wasn’t slowing down. It was still choking out Alfie, the undead once again on top of the vampire.
He had to get closer, and so he moved in a little bit more, but there was such a flurry of arms and legs, the positions constantly shifting as Alfie kept fighting the assault to get a breath.
“Let go of him!” Shuli barked.
Abruptly, he made a decision that went against every selfish thing he had ever done, all the narcissism of his nightly life, every cloistering he’d had as the privilege-born son of his Princeps sire, flushing out of him, his body moving on its own volition.
He closed in on the violent struggle, getting close, too close, so close that he could see the hellish expression of the lesser and the sweat on Alfie’s pale, shocked face. Keeping his gun up, he knew he had to train the muzzle on the slayer’s head at point-blank range. It was his only hope. Bouncing back and forth on his feet, weaving the nine-millimeter around, he tried to find the opportunity. Almost. Nearly. Almost—
And then it came.
Alfie went limp without warning, his eyes rolling back as he passed out, and the abrupt lack of defense collapsed the hand-to-hand combat, the slayer pitching forward—and that off-balance required a recovery: The undead’s head popped up, and provided a split second of perfect target.
Shuli put the muzzle directly on the temple.
Just as he pulled the trigger, the slayer swung his arm up and deflected the shot. With the weapon going wide, their eyes met, and it was like staring into an abyss—and Shuli froze. Which provided an opportunity for the lesser. With a surge, it tackled Shuli backwards, and grabbed the autoloader.
The strength in the slayer was a total shock. As black blood speckled his face, Shuli battled against an unfathomable brawn to get his arm free—
The gun discharge was a pop right by Shuli’s ear and he instinctively recoiled, bracing for a blaze of pain. When none came, he pulled at his arm, and as the hold on it released, he felt a wave of triumph.
