King of Thieves: Demons of Elysium, Book 2
Page 32
Gabe had absolutely no answer to that. Still crippled with pain, he tried to curl into a tighter ball—he needed to protect his most vulnerable parts long enough to regain control of his body. He had his arms over his face and neck but looked up when he heard the sound of wood smashing against brick. It was his crossbow shattering against the wall. He watched openmouthed as the vampire, his shirt soaked in blood, stepped over him and walked into the apartment, slamming the door.
Gabe heard no sounds other than the usual hum of the city as he lay on the ground, utterly bewildered. He’d stumbled into terrain more unfamiliar than the forests of the Carpathian Mountains. Since he saw no indication of the vampire returning, and because, frankly, he started to feel stupid, he cautiously stood up. His balls were still plenty sore, but he’d live. The sensible thing was to leave, perhaps regroup, and make new plans. So naturally, he did the opposite. He told himself he should go after the wounded vampire and stop it from alerting others. Curiosity might have also played a role in his decision.
Gabe tried the door, and it yielded. Walking in, he found himself in a large room that served both as a living area and kitchen. The space looked a lot like an IKEA showroom. It didn’t even surprise him anymore. The vampire was bleeding onto a beige couch, arms cradling his stomach, face half buried in the cushions. He was obviously in pain—pain that Gabe caused. It made Gabe feel uncomfortable. He was a hunter, not a torturer.
He couldn’t find any of the familiar fury in himself, only emptiness and an inexplicable sense of remorse. Strictly speaking, undead or not, this guy had never done any serious harm to him, in spite of ample provocation. No vampire had shown him mercy before, and this turn of events left him disoriented.
The vampire didn’t even look up. “What the fuck do you want? Finish what you started?” He sounded bitter and somehow disappointed.
“Hey, you’ll heal, right?” Gabe heard himself say. He knew they healed fast—another reason to kill them quick.
“What the fuck do you think hurts so fucking much?”
“For a small guy, you curse a lot.” It felt strange to have a conversation with a vamp, as if they were two regular people.
“What does one have to do… Oh shit, shit, shit—” The guy…vampire doubled over in agony, his face twisting in pain. Human instincts overriding five years of training, Gabe dropped to his haunches and put a hand on the guy’s back in a comforting gesture. He was at a loss. This was not how these things were supposed to go down. Life used to be simple; his job was to make the undead dead, and their job was to fight back and die. Everything had gone off-kilter now. He didn’t have it in him to slay a vampire that didn’t try to do the same to him. He’d never had this problem in the Old Country.
The slender figure on the couch, racked with pain, was all wrong, making Gabe feel all wrong too. Not knowing what else to do, he stroked the guy’s back, even made some nonsensical shushing sounds, as one would to soothe a sick child. The shivers running through the vamp’s body subsided, and slowly his breathing returned to normal.
“I should’ve disemboweled you last time,” he muttered.
“You’re just saying that. Entrails make a big mess.”
Gabe felt the body under his hand shake, and he realized it was from laughter.
“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
“Sorry.”
The guy cracked an eye open and looked up. He was pale, even for a vampire.
“I’m Harvey,” he said weakly. He moved his hand as if for a handshake, but seeing it covered in blood, he pulled it back.
“Gabe.”
“Gabe, I need to feed.”
With the sudden agility of a man who’d just about stepped on a rattlesnake, Gabe snatched his hand away and sprang to his feet.
Harvey pursed his lips. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. Just get me a bottle from the fridge, okay?”
After a moment of hesitation, Gabe edged to the refrigerator, keeping an eye on Harvey. When he opened the door, he saw about a dozen plastic bottles filled with liquid the color of rusty tap water. Definitely not blood. He saw an already half-empty bottle, so he grabbed it.
Harvey downed the liquid in one continuous gulp. He let out a relieved sigh. “That hit the spot.” He dropped the bottle on the floor and squinted up at Gabe. “You stink,” he said.
Without clarifying if he meant it literally or figuratively, he closed his eyes, and his body went limp.
King of Thieves
Jane Kindred
There are worse things to lose than one’s good name.
Demons of Elysium, Book 2
Belphagor can seduce demons with a look and bring angels to their knees with a single motion, but when it comes to being in love, the Prince of Tricks is out of his element.
At every turn, Vasily rebels against the discipline he claims to want, even refusing to use his safe word. But when Belphagor uses a scheme to shut down an underage brothel to test Vasily’s limits, he loses Vasily’s trust along with the boys he intended to set free.
Uncovering a smuggling ring that spans two worlds, Belphagor calls on a team of Nephilim mercenaries to rescue the “Lost Boys” from earthly gangsters. But his relationship seems beyond repair—and a heartbroken Vasily beyond his reach in the arms of a sensual demon named Silk.
Belphagor has more than enough grand schemes up his sleeve to bring down the smuggling ring for good. But when it comes to putting things right with Vasily, his bag of tricks is empty. Except for trust…and a plan to teach his boy a lesson neither will soon forget.
Warning: Contains two strong-willed lovers who will test the theory that without air, there can be no fire. Expect plenty of smoke, more than a few mirrors, and an old-fashioned Russian duel. You may need a shot of vodka when you’re done reading this one!
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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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King of Thieves
Copyright © 2014 by Jane Kindred
ISBN: 978-1-61922-091-1
Edited by Linda Ingmanson
Cover by Kanaxa
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First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2014
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