“There are many ways we can take care of each other.”
“I plan on teaching you everything I know, which is quite a bit. It took me centuries to build this mass quantity of knowledge so do not expect it all over night.” It would take years and years, but he did not mind. She was a ray of light in his otherwise dark life.
“How much further to the shop?” She glanced at the night sky. “Looks like rain.” A strong wind blew as if it had heard her prediction. He loved the rain, especially thunderstorms, but he hurried his steps so Trixie would stay dry.
Two blocks over, the storefronts changed. Fewer restaurants and retail to more pawn shops and liquor stores. “Stay close. This is a rough part of the city.”
She smirked. “Like where I grew up and live?”
“I just thought you were down on your luck and needed a cheap apartment.”
“I’ve been down on my luck and needed a cheap apartment since birth.” She frowned. “It’s not easy to escape, you know. Nobody has ever given me and Ruby handouts. We both bust our asses to make ends meet.” She chuckled softly. “Sorry, touchy subject.”
“Obviously.” He had been born a lord. A silver spoon in his mouth so when faced with poverty for the first time as a vampire degenerate, he had been useless. He had no survival skills, but the instincts of their kind. He smiled a little. Not like Trixie. She seemed at ease on these streets. Her walk confident, her eyes watchful, and he noticed, her stance ready to fight.
She caught him staring at her fists. “I’m a nice person, Viktor. Not a stupid one. If someone attacks me, I’ll kick ass. Not well, but I try.”
He slid his arm around her. Pleased that she didn’t shy away. “I would kill anyone who hurt you.”
“Don’t.” Her gaze snapped to the open V of his shirt and the visible names peeking from under the material.
He shook his head and patted his chest. “These are people who suffered for my lack of self-control. My hunger demon’s victims. If I murdered someone who dared touch you, I would be in full control of my mental capacity.”
“That’s sweet in a Jack-the-Ripper kind of way.” She grimaced. “The things that come out of your mouth are disturbing.”
“I was born in a different age. You cannot expect me to be—”
“Civilized?” She quirked her eyebrow.
“Civility is like beauty. It is in the eye of the beholder.” He paused in front of their destination. “Let’s have a chat with our dhampir.” He had not met one before. They were the unicorns of their race.
“We should have a plan of action. What if she’s been tattooing people with black magic on purpose? What if she’s a witch and tries to curse us? Or maybe, she’s plotting against the Riverbend pack. We should—”
He pressed his finger to her lips. “This is a reconnaissance mission only. We will talk to her, maybe make an appointment then ask to see samples of her work. From there, we will find shelter for the day and only then make a plan.”
She sank back on her heels. “That’s pretty anticlimactic.”
“Did you want me to bust through the door, fangs ablazing?”
Trixie laughed. “I didn’t think this far. I just wanted to find her.”
“What would you do?”
“Ask politely for the book?”
He kissed her forehead. “In a different situation, that might work.”
She shrugged. “What do I do? Stand there and look pretty?” Flat tone and expression.
“Not at all. Listen. Observe. We will compare notes afterwards.” He opened the door for her and whispered for her ears only, “Follow my lead.”
She stepped inside and halted just past the threshold.
Three barber chairs lined one wall and a table the other. Tattoo machines were set at each station. Silence greeted them. The place was empty.
The back door swung open and a tall man came out, wiping his hands on a white towel. Wide shouldered with a scowling expression, he marched across the shop. “We’re closing early.”
Trixie’s face fell with genuine disappointment.
Viktor worked with what she had inspired and set his hand on her shoulder as if to offer comfort. “She was hoping to meet one of your artists, Jade Ellington. She had done work on her best friend. She wanted a matching piece.”
The shop owner scratched his chin. “Jade? All my artists are men.”
Viktor’s gut dropped. It had been a long shot that the dhampir would still work here. It had been years since Betty had had her tattoo inked. He had still hoped. “Maybe you know where she works now?”
“Well shit, you’re the third person to come around here looking for her this month. She’s been gone over a year. Her mom got sick and she had to leave suddenly and take care of her.” He set his hands on his hips. “Is she in some kind of trouble? She’s a good kid. I’d hate to see her hurt.”
Viktor gave him a slow blink. Good kid?
“Thanks for your help.” Trixie made to leave but he did not budge.
He had to find this book more than ever. If the dhampir was an innocent in all this, her safety was his responsibility. Not to mention he had to keep the peace between the hot-headed wolf pack alpha and the local nest. “Who else came looking for her?”
The shop owner drew closer, his eyes widening. “I know you.”
He sensed Trixie stiffen as if ready to flee.
“You’re Viktor Petrov.” His mouth dropped open. “They featured your work on the New Port dragon in Tattoo News.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. “I can’t believe you’re here. I’m a huge fan.”
Trixie looked at him oddly. “You’re a tattoo artist?”
“We all have to make a living. It was how I met Eoin.”
“You never once mentioned this.”
“We have been preoccupied,” he said under his breath. He shook the shopkeeper’s hand. “It is always good to meet another artist in the business.”
“How do you do it? I mean, work on a dragon. Their hides must be tough as hell.”
“Diamond tipped needles.” He also used a silver infused ink, but he was not going to reveal all his secrets.
The shop owner nodded. “I didn’t know they made those.”
“Special order. Very expensive.”
“Can I get a picture of us together? Nobody will believe you were in my shop.” The shop owner handed Trixie his cell phone before Viktor could answer. “Just press here.” He showed her then threw his arm over Viktor’s shoulder.
That stupid article had been Eoin’s agent’s idea. Publicity. Since then he had been booked solid. Well, he had been. Who knew the state of his business since he’d been locked in Eoin’s castle.
Trixie snapped a few pictures.
“Thanks.” The owner retrieved his phone.
“The others?”
The shop owner went still. “Werewolves. I didn’t ask what pack.” He gestured to Trixie. “Why don’t you ink her?”
“Because I’m not a dragon who needs diamond tipped needles.” Her sarcasm sharp.
Viktor followed her outside. The rain was a steady down pour now. They huddled under the awning.
“The werewolves were from New Port. Ken sent them,” she said.
Viktor nodded, recalling the text conversation he had read. “Makes sense, but the shop owner said we were the third group. Ken would not have sent people to the same location twice.”
She crossed her arms. “When were you going to tell me you were famous?”
“Famous only in certain circles.” He searched the street for a taxi, but the area seemed oddly deserted. It was late, but not enough for everyone to vanish. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“A hotel. We will spend the day there and then query other shops tomorrow evening.”
They hurried from shelter to shelter, trying to stay dry.
“What if she moved away from Riverbend?”
That would be too convenient and make his life simple. The alpha
would not get his revenge and the local vampires would not up rise in war. “I wish,” he muttered. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught a shadow moving in the darkness.
“If she left Riverbend, she could be spreading her evil somewhere else,” Trixie said.
He sighed. Trixie’s good heart could be the death of him.
Another shadow moved in the corner of his eye. He kept their pace fast but casual, trying not to appear frightened. “Trixie,” he whispered. “Run, when I give the signal.”
Chapter Twenty
Heart in her throat, she glanced over her shoulder and tried to spot any and all danger.
Viktor nudged her with his elbow. “Don’t look suspicious. Control your scent of fear.” He rested his arm over her shoulder, his hand loose and relaxed, as if they were out on a romantic stroll in a torrential rain storm.
“How the fuck do I control my scent?” Her whisper sounded like a hiss. If he had wanted her not to smell of fear, he shouldn’t have warned her to run. That jacked a girl’s heart rate.
Though he appeared relaxed, Viktor propelled them along the sidewalk at a faster and faster pace. “See the intersection ahead?”
She nodded, resisting the urge to wring her hands. “Sort of.” The rain made it difficult, but she saw the better lit area and cobblestone.
“That’s the street to the clubs. Once we reach it, I want you to sprint to Carlos. Tell him you are in danger and need help hiding. He will get you home.”
With narrowed eyes, she glared at her sire. “What’s going on? I don’t see anyone following us.”
“Werewolves.” He nodded to the deep shadows of an empty alleyway. “On the hunt.”
“What about you?” Trixie could sense hostile gazes digging in her back. She wouldn’t abandon Viktor to face the pack alone.
“We have to split up. They only want me. You should be safe once I’m far away.”
“I’ve met the Riverbend alpha at Betty’s wedding. He should remember me.” How many pink haired girls had he met at his ex-girlfriend’s wedding? Especially ones who spilled champagne on his shoes?
Viktor grunted. “Who do you think is leading the hunt? Riverbend is not like New Port. The vampires and werewolves do not have an easy truce. It is more like I had to force feed it to them. The alpha is a hothead.”
“And the nest leader?” Because every conflict had two sides.
“She is a sadistic bitch.”
“Nice, when’s their wedding?”
He stopped suddenly. “I cannot believe you can still joke.” His gaze darted ahead as he crouched, ready to fight.
She wiped her soaking hair from her face and blinked the rain from her vision.
Shadows detached themselves from the dark, blocking their way to the intersection. Standing easily a foot taller than she with night-glow eyes, the werewolves stalked them in beast form. Shifters didn’t change shape to look like their animal cousins. They were more of a blend of human and animal. Bigger, bipedal, and with the same mind as before. It wasn’t against the law for shifters to run around in this form, but it was frowned upon.
Humans technically were weaker than supernatural creatures, but they outnumbered them ten-to-one. Pissing off humans never turned out well, and she was no longer on the winning team. These werewolves could kick her ass and there was nothing stopping them because vampires didn’t exist to the rest of the world. Shit with a cherry on top.
“Cut off.” Viktor circled slowly, back facing her. “They are surrounding us.”
“What’s plan B?” High pitched and thready. She knew how to throw a punch and to take one. She hadn’t any problem with biting, kicking, or pulling hair, but it wasn’t like she was part of some girl’s fight club. These wolves moved like Viktor. Like predators. Maybe one day she would walk with such deadly grace, but today was not that day. Instead, she was on the menu.
A growl behind her. She spun around. The shifters stuck to the dark, shunning the faint street lights, but with her new vampire vision, she could make out their movements. Hunting as a pack within city limits in an area not marked as a hunting ground was illegal.
And here she was, thinking like a human again. Because no one gave a crap about a vampire.
She retreated, reaching behind her to get Viktor’s attention. “There are more on this side.” Her hand felt only air.
“Run!” Viktor commanded from high above her head. She glanced up, almost drowning in the rain, and glimpsed him hopping from one rooftop to another, away from the clubs and the intersection.
He’d left her?
“Run, dammit,” he shouted again.
She glanced at the werewolves that been gathering and saw only darkness. Then in the distance she spotted a tail. The pack was chasing him.
He was leading them away from her.
She took a step in their direction as if she had the ability to fight off a pack of werewolves all on her own.
A werewolf strode out under the streetlight, arms crossed over his furry chest as if daring her to try to pass him. Another wolf crossed the street behind him, smaller and dainty, yet no less feral looking. She eyed Trixie from head to toe and licked her muzzle. “Fresh meat,” she said to her pack mate.
Wait, what? She retreated, tripping off the sidewalk into the deserted street, ankle deep rain run-off. Scanning the street for an escape route, she came back empty handed. “This is all a big misunderstanding.” She held her hands in front of her in a symbol of peace. “I met your alpha not long ago. We’re friends.” She bent the truth. He wasn’t going to win the Mr. Personality award any time soon. She’d been secretly happy that Betty’s relationship hadn’t worked out. She was much better off with Ken.
Neither werewolf reacted.
“Stop toying with her,” the wolf shifter behind her shouted. The one blocking her path to the bar district. “Get her already.”
Trixie held her breath. Her vision focused on the werewolves to the point where she could count each individual hair. The rain slid off her skin unnoticed and the sound of heartbeats filled her ears. Her pulse galloped and her muscles tensed, ready to spring.
Self-preservation kicked in. Years of street living in rough neighborhoods had honed those instincts. She spun on her heel and rushed toward the intersection guarded by the asshole shouting for them to get her.
People. She needed to be surrounded by witnesses. The shifters wouldn’t dare hurt her in public. She was a vampire, but to the humans, she looked like one of them. If they saw werewolves picking on a girl, the National Guard would be called.
The shifter blocking her way stood rooted to the ground, muzzle unhinged.
She was moving. The rain drops hung motionless in the air as she smashed through them. The shifter’s mouth closed in slow motion.
“She’s a vampire,” he shouted, the sound dragged out and unnaturally deep.
She tucked her chin to her chest and rolled into a tight ball, right through the werewolf’s long legs. It worked. The rain poured on her head again. She had more momentum than she’d thought and instead of rolling to her feet to continue running, like she normally would, she stopped on her ass and bounced over the wet pavement like a skipped stone. The impact left her teeth rattling in her head.
“She’s supposed to be human.” Female voice shouted. She could hear their clawed footfalls, closing the distance.
Leaving her DNA on the asphalt, Trixie scrambled to her feet. Head spinning and ass smarting, she ran onto the populated cobblestone street lined with night life. The werewolves had thought she was human and that was what saved her. Why would they think she was human when she was with Viktor?
She ran at human speed, not looking back and straight for the club where she had met Carlos. What was the donor going to do for her? He couldn’t fight off a pack of shifters—she pressed between the parked cars to cross the street—but Carlos might know some of the local nest. They could help her save Viktor. Yes, that was the plan.
A familiar face watched her fro
m the humans. He stepped into her path, his eyes flashing amber. His tight T-shirt soaked and molding to his muscled chest.
Trixie stopped on a dime in the middle of the road. Crap, in her hurry, she’d forgotten they could look human too.
A car honked long and hard.
Before she could blink, she was yanked into his thick, veined arms and out of the way of danger.
She waggled her fingers in a little wave. His face mere inches from hers. “Hi, Chris.”
The wolves were good. Moving like a military unit, they herded Viktor yet managed to stick to the shadows and out of the humans’ sight. It was an unspoken rule to hide their battles from the humans. His real concern was their goal.
He snorted. When had he last been prey? The beat of his heart was a palpable thing. His blood sang in his veins and he wanted nothing more than to leap into the fray of battle and confront the pack. Have a good honest fight.
Not tonight. Not in this city. The truce was too fragile. One little crack would shatter all civility. It was a bad omen that pack felt confident to hunt him. The hostilities must be worse than he had been informed. Aggression came naturally, but as Master of the City, he led by example. Until he knew the facts of what had happened between pack and nest, he would not resort to violence. If war broke out in Riverbend, the vampire and shifter ruling bodies would want it extinguished fast. That meant sending him in to kill them all.
He had to focus before he tripped off the rooftops. The rain made the footing traitorous. Instead of fighting, he let the pack continue to guide his steps. The only blessing was that Trixie had escaped. He had seen her ingenious roll and awkward landing. Then she’d run to the bar section of the city. She would escape them there. He had faith in her.
He smiled. She was not used to her new strength and speed, but she’d managed it well. The look on that wolf’s face as she’d rolled between his legs would be added to his cherished memories.
A clothesline full of soaking sheets crossed his path. He turned direction to keep the pack’s attention from Trixie.
Werewolves awaited him on the adjunct roof.
He stopped his jump, pinwheeling his arms for balance. He spun around. Shifters closed in from behind.
Not His Vampire: Vampire Romance (Not This Series Book 3) Page 15
