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“The Meatpacking District. I know.”
Of course, she did.
“But I’m sure my father’s watching it,” I added, “and I don’t want to put my people in the position of having to lie about my whereabouts.”
“What about the underworld?”
I nodded. “You read my mind.”
“Spider will let us stay there?”
“For a fee, yeah. Hell, for enough money, he’d let us move in for a year. But I only trust the guy so far. Tomorrow we’ll have to look for a more permanent solution.”
“Agreed. Same entrance?”
I said yes, and she faded back into the shadows, me a few seconds after her.
When I arrived at the dumpster, Ridley was leaning against the wall behind it in a deceptively casual pose, one knee bent and her boot resting on the bricks, her eyes scanning for trouble.
I exited the shadows—and was blindsided by a wave of weakness.
I rested my forearm on the wall and sucked in air. Gods, I was sick of feeling like a fucking fragile flower. But I was burnt. Too much time in the shadow dimension on top of powering a glamour had sucked all the magic juice from my still recovering body.
Twin lines formed between Ridley’s brows. “You okay?”
I straightened. “Just catching my breath.”
She gave a disbelieving grunt, which I ignored. I opened the door, and we jogged down the rickety stairs to find George waiting at the bottom, fangs bared and a big-ass dagger in his hand.
He gestured with the dagger at the stairs behind us. “Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of. Spider doesn’t want you here.”
Adrenaline kicked in, bringing with it a surge of energy. “Then he can tell me himself.” I pulled out the switchblade I’d taken from Ridley and the dagger I’d picked up in a pawn shop.
Ridley’s own blades had already leapt into her hands. Snick, snick.
She’d kept her glamour but a wolfish grin lit her face. The woman was enjoying this.
George fell back—it was that or get mowed down. He glanced at Ridley and did a doubletake. “That’s your thrall?”
She gave a goaded growl. “I am not his thrall.”
Uneasiness pricked me. Ridley looked nothing like the mini-skirted blood addict of last week. How did George know she was the same woman?
“I wouldn’t mess with her,” I advised. “She’s wicked good with those blades.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her brow lift. “Why, thank you.”
I showed George my fangs. I couldn’t compel him like I could a human, but I could use my dominance against him. I was stronger than George, even though he was a vampire and I was a dhampir, and that’s why he disliked me—that and the fact I was a rich syndicate prince who could buy and sell him a hundred times over.
I put all the force of my vampire-half into the command. “Take me to Spider. Now.”
George shuddered, followed by a look of intense hatred that should’ve incinerated me where I stood. But he gave in.
“Your blades.” He stuck out a hand, his mouth an insolent curl.
No fucking way.
“I don’t think so. But as a sign of good faith—” I returned the dagger to my pocket and retracted my switchblade, and Ridley did the same.
