Kristoff Novak leaned against the bar in an unbuttoned black jacket tailored perfectly for his broad shoulders. He slipped his thumb in his pocket, pushing the dark wool aside, revealing a crisp white undershirt over a lean stomach. His blue eyes studied her face before focusing on her neck. His smile deepened the dimple in his cheek and the cleft in his chin. He looked like the epitome of a handsome devil. “Who is your person of interest this evening?”
“Not you.” Turning toward him on her stool, Red tried to keep her breathing even. The knowing familiarity in his expression made her fidget. She pulled her loose hair over her shoulder, trying to discretely cover his bite on her neck.
She was tempting to him simply looking like Juniper even if he didn’t know the truth. His gentleman act held because of a mix of Lucas’s threatening him, Cora protecting her, and his own desire to woo her. She knew the last was just a whim of nostalgia. Maybe to prove something to Lucas or even himself. That barrier could snap once he decided he was done with games. After the tribunal wanted to give her to him, she didn’t want him to get any more ideas. Red thought she might have leverage over him, but she didn’t want to test it yet. More than that, she wanted to tug her short skirt down, but she didn’t want to attract his piercing gaze.
Vampires cursed with a soul were like humans with a bloodlust. They had empathy, compassion, and a full range of human emotions to battle against the demon instincts roaring to feed, fuck, and destroy. Unsouled vampires didn’t. When they died, they kept their personality and memories, but lost their moral compass. They knew right and wrong, but they didn’t care.
He was the last person that should know who her soul had been before.
Blue eyes sparkling, Kristoff’s grin grew as he noticed her blush and nervous motions. “You want to know who is at the tables behind the screens.”
“I’m just people watching,” Red said delicately before picking up her wine glass and sipping to break eye contact.
“You’re ignoring the people for the vampires.” Kristoff leaned his head forward. “Is this about Michel going viral?”
Her heart dropped at the name. An irrational worry came over her. Had the audio of her conversation with Michel gotten out? “I’m not on the vampire side of the dark web. What are people saying about him?”
“Cora kept her throne, but she created a martyr.” Kristoff studied her face. “His last words—I would have shown you who you really are. They struck a chord in some corners.”
That was the mysterious quote the Dague had posted along with their snuff films. The question of why he was here made her put down her glass. With Higbee holding back the force of the DVA, was Cora pulling in other allies? Or had the tribunal ordered him to Portland to wait their verdict? The compromise could have been decided beforehand. With vampires, it was easy to see everything as a conspiracy. Because it often was. “Cora has the notion that you’re an upright citizen. Did she ask you to come down to LA because of the tribunal?”
“I have my own supreme to serve.”
“Fancy ambassador business for Prince Marek then?” Red tilted her head, trying to keep her face blank.
“More of an errand. His mother is on an American holiday. I’m escorting her to Portland on my private plane this week.” Kristoff inched his chin up to motion the bartender. “Whiskey. Double. Thank you.”
Watching the top shelf liquor poured into the glass, Red stole glances at Kristoff before the bartender moved on. She needed to be observant, but she couldn’t forget the threat hanging over her head. He had to know what his Prince had almost agreed to if Cora hadn’t stood in the way. “You can’t join me.”
“I know you’re working some mystery, but this counts as dinner. You have a slice of sashimi left.” Kristoff said.
Red picked up her chopsticks and chewed it, glaring at him. “Dinner’s done.”
“Brief, but I will always remember the adorable scowl and that little expression you made when you realized a chopstick could be a stake.” Kristoff chuckled. “Why so blue, Red? What happened?”
“I have heard that chestnut of joke before.” Pursing her lips, she rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. Snarky banter seemed to be Kristoff’s preferred intellectual foreplay. It was time for mental chess. She needed to know his intentions now. “You pulled some weight for me. Thank you for convincing Marek to come to the tribunal. Hilde was gunning for me.”
“Of course, Red. If I can use my influence to help you, I will.” Kristoff put his hand on hers. Brief, the touch tingled from his hand, still calloused from his mortal labors. He smiled, shrugging with the false modesty of a man who knew he’d rigged the game, but felt bragging was beneath him.
“You know I was summoned by the DVA too.” Red cocked her head, wondering how much he had manipulated the situation behind the scenes? Restlessness zipped up her legs. Her mouth tightened. “You got me off…” She added quickly. “Scot-free.”
Kristoff nodded, lips tugging up at the innuendo slip. “I helped with the script. I’ll admit.”
Leaning forward, Red paused. His teasing scent, charcoal and midnight forest, mingled with the fine whiskey he drank. She wrinkled her nose, trying to get the annoyingly alluring scent out, and lowered her voice. “What about the investigation around me? Nedda had the DVA pick over my old jobs. Pulled out a lot of information in a few weeks over the holidays. That’s a lot of overtime even for the night shift.”
“She’s good at her job. Doesn’t need me.” Kristoff raised his eyebrow. “I can read the subtext—I helped you, and now you’re suspicious.”
“No, I appreciate the help but the invasion of privacy—not so much. How long have you had her look into me?” Red crossed her arms.
“The minute you stepped out of my club with my fresh bite on your neck.” Kristoff matched her steely gaze.
Red glanced down. It wasn’t shock at the answer. It was because of the truth that he freely gave.
“You know I won’t lie to you. We agreed on that. I’m an open book.” Kristoff shrugged, then spread his arms. “I was being framed for murder, and the investigator was a mysterious hunter with my old lover’s face. I was curious.”
“Then you just kept digging. Did you get your voyeur jollies spying on my whole life?”
“I’m flattered that you think I have the reach. I’m not the FBI. I had Nedda run a records search in October. Remember, we had a whole tête-à-tête about it before I staked a biker in this very hotel,” Kristoff said dryly. “I expected college transcripts, a family in a flyover state, and a name. I found mug shots and mystery. Not that it would surprise you.”
Red glared at him, hands planted on her hips. “You had no right.”
“You looked me up too. Don’t play the coy victim about that.” Kristoff bit his lip, twinkling blue eyes caressing her face. He frowned, then straightened as if a cold thought chilled his spine. “You’re worried I engineered this tribunal so I could turn you.”
Sipping her wine, Red frowned into her glass. “The thought crossed my mind.”
“When I create a childe, it’s not a punishment.” Seemingly embarrassed at his fervent tone, Kristoff tugged at his collar and looked away. “Nevaeh’s swan dive was what brought the DVA sniffing around your past kills.”
Red furrowed her brow. She wasn’t surprised at the denial. She could imagine that he would make turning her into a production if he did it. Her lips twisted at the word choice. She wasn’t a killer. “They were jobs.”
“Is it different because you were paid for them?” Kristoff arched his brow at her correction.
“I was helping people. Saving them from monsters. That’s the difference.”
“Then you helped a lot of people across the west.” Kristoff smiled. He brushed his fingers down her bare shoulder and over her black lyre tattoo. “Now, this tattoo is what I am most curious about.”
“Personal bubble.” Shrugging her shoulder away, Red ignored the hitch in her lungs and clench in her belly. “This claim, wh
atever the tribunal thinks, doesn’t make you my master. I might not want to kill you, but to stop being turned, I’ll fight with everything I have.”
“That was Hilde’s idea. Not mine. The last thing that I want is for you to be afraid of me.” Kristoff frowned. His chiseled features grew earnest. “I’ll make sure that you stay under the radar.”
Goosebumps rising on her skin, Red pulled back, licking her lips. His touch lingered on her skin like an echo. It felt like déjà vu. “Running the show, huh? Did you tell Nedda to give me the ‘he’s like my big brother and don’t hurt him’ speech too?”
In mid-sip of his whiskey, Kristoff blinked, eyes widening like an ice cube went down the wrong tube. His palm slipped on the bar counter. Balancing himself, he coughed and set down his glass. “What kind of speech?”
A giggle stole from her throat at his suddenly graceless dismay. She had seen him chained in silver without losing his cool. Now he was choking on a drink. “She wanted to know my intentions.”
Red had figured out his long ago, but she had never thought about her own. Just counted her blessings that he hadn’t acted on his claim. Then, a few crises later, she was drinking with him instead of holding a shotgun in his face. Free will or a past life pattern creeping up again? Either way, Red knew how this story had ended for Juniper. Fraternizing with unsouled vampires was the kind of thing that proved the ‘higher circles’ of the Brotherhood right. Her giggles subsided.
Grinning, Kristoff licked his bottom lip. A stray lock of dark blond hair lay tousled on his forehead. “And they are?”
A carefully crafted deflection dripping with acrid wit dissolved on her tongue when she opened her mouth. Juniper hadn’t been the only one who had suffered in that tormented saga. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Brow knotting and eyelids lowering, his grin drooped. He sat on the stool beside her. “I don’t have feelings to hurt.”
His emotional range might have been more monochrome than technicolor after death, but even big bad unsouled vampires had feelings. Nedda had insisted that Red be gentle. Red tried again. “Still. You’re trying to be good to me.”
Kristoff lifted his chin, setting his jaw. “I can be very good to you. It doesn’t take a soul.”
Eyelashes lowering, Red bit at her lip. She didn’t know how to process the sincere guarantee in his expression. She tried to remind herself that there wasn’t a soul behind those blue eyes. “You’re not like any other unsouled vampire that I’ve met. You were right about that.”
“Why do you sound sad about it?”
“It’s because I appreciate it enough to be straight with you.” She rubbed her arm, feeling chilled in her sleeveless dress. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she couldn’t stop him from hurting himself. Kristoff knew she was with his sire. “You know the situation with Lucas and me. And apparently so does Nedda…” Red trailed off, looking over Kristoff’s shoulder. “Damn.”
Nedda rounded the corner of the bar. The cowl neck of her sleeveless shirt flapped from her determined pace.
Dressed in black slacks and a matching v-neck, red hair slicked back to his shoulders, Donal pulled her back with a chuckle. He whispered in her ear.
A blond human man broke away from them to wait at the bar. It was the one who had walked in earlier, but Red hadn’t placed him as a claimed human until he was beside Donal.
“Your friends are here.” Red picked up her glass and drank the last gulp of white wine. She braced herself for the oncoming vampires. Vic hadn’t trained her for this kind of battle.
Kristoff looked over his shoulder, his eyes rolling. He raised his glass to Red and downed the whiskey. “Of course.”
Donal reached them first. He clapped a big hand on Kristoff’s shoulder. “This is where you went, boyo? Found a pretty girl and deserted your mates.”
“She’s beautiful, not pretty.” Kristoff corrected him solemnly, raising his glass to his lips.
Face heating, Red ducked her head.
Donal chuckled. “Is my boardroom bandit about to launch into poetics?”
“Just having a drink?” Nedda leaned on the other side of Red’s stool, her suspicious gaze scanning the scene. She peered at the empty glasses as if there were poison in them. “Business or pleasure?”
“Nedda…” Kristoff warned.
“Fine. I need to call my girlfriend anyway.” Nedda pushed off the bar. She stared Red down as she stalked away.
“I was enjoying a dinner alone.” Brows lifting, Red shrugged, eyes darting between Kristoff and Donal. One vampire had left, but she still had two to deal with.
“Aren’t you lucky that a handsome gent came along? Now, let me get rid of Kristoff and get you a fresh drink.” Donal laughed, elbowing his friend.
“I don’t know what your date will think of that.” Red nodded to the claimed human loitering at the end of the bar whose darkly lined eyes kept darting to Donal. She should have recognized him when he walked into the restaurant. He’d been the only other human at the Halloween Ball. The human had also cooed over Donal’s shoulder in a poker game at the illegal bar in Gianni Construction. Before she sent two vans careening into it.
“Trey would pout for a week.” Donal mock sighed. “I’ll just have to leave you with my far less good-looking friend.”
“I have my charms.” Kristoff’s lazy gaze fell to the fang scars on her neck.
Covering the mark, Red tried not to think of his bite. The paranormal romances were wrong. A vampire’s bite could hurt even through their venom-induced thrall. Not Kristoff’s. He might not have been able to turn into a bat, but his bite seemed like a dark gift that even the Brotherhood scholars hadn’t discovered yet. She looked away from him.
Donal shook Kristoff’s hand. “I’m heading off. I’ll need to tuck my boy in before I hit the road. Thanks for letting me crash the jet.”
“Just get my Harley to Portland in one piece, will ya?” Kristoff patted his friend’s upper arm.
Red studied Kristoff as Donal left. She slipped and looked at him through her third eye. His purple aura, threaded with silver, hung over his broad shoulders. Heart beating faster, she mentally cursed at herself for using magic. After what Matt told her, she knew that she couldn’t use it. Red had found Lucas, she had found Kristoff, she didn’t need to go further down Juniper’s path. The other highlights included releasing zombies onto the English countryside. There was no need to repeat all of Juniper’s greatest mistakes. Looking into Kristoff’s blue eyes, Red could see why Juniper was tempted. That was enough to convince her that it was time to go.
She stood, laying cash by her plate for her check. “Try not to have too much fun tonight.”
“Leaving so soon? You were about to give me the talk about how we should just be friends,” Kristoff said lazily, running a finger on the rim of his empty glass. His dimple flashed as his lips quirked up.
“You know we can’t be friends. We don’t know how.” Red turned away from the all too handsome face.
Kristoff appeared in front of her. The casual act fell away as he leaned closer. His words were a vow. “I’m an old dog, but I can learn new tricks.”
“It’s not you that worries me.” Red had to tilt her head up to match his gaze. “Do you really want history to repeat itself? Even after how badly it hurt you?”
“Yes.” The admission came out a plea.
“You survived. I didn’t.” Red shook her head, suddenly chilly in her little black dress. “What if the road still goes on, but it only leads to the same place?”
Kristoff reached out to take her hand and kissed her knuckles, his gaze fervent. “I can change it. I can protect you now. I’m not a minion anymore.”
“You can’t fight my fate for me. My future is only going to change if I do.” Red pulled back and stepped around him. “Goodbye, Mr. Novak.” He didn’t realize that she was protecting him by walking away. She felt his eyes on her as strongly as his kiss on her fingers.
Slipping out of the restaurant, sh
e took a shaky breath. Red mentally kicked back the squiggly emotions that only an epic journaling session could tame. She powerwalked down the long hallway toward the parking lot.
An opening door ushered in the creeping click of stiletto heels as a brunette stepped out.
“Necesito irme temprano. Adios.” The female spun around, hanging up her phone and tossing it with the force of a grenade into her purse. In a cherry crimson high-necked minidress with a fishtail braid hanging over her shoulder, Sancha was lush from her full lips to her hips. The screen from the tribunal didn’t do her beauty justice.
Red had a stake in her purse. Sancha had four hundred years of vampire might. The familiar presence of the sanctuary spell felt like security blanket. It was temporary. She couldn’t stay in the hotel forever. Red gulped, stopping as the meaning to the Spanish words filtered through her shock. What was Sancha leaving early for? Why was she even here?
Sancha’s arched look grew considering when she spotted Red. Nearly three and a half centuries old, the sailor’s daughter from Bilbao had loved and lost kings. Now she ruled Oklahoma City in her own right. She scanned the hunter before she spoke with a hint of Old Spain in her words. “You made a name for yourself, Strawberry… after you made me a widow.”
The King of the Prairie Dead might have ridden the plains since they were territories, but he still underestimated hunters. Never learned Red’s name even after biting her. He called her Strawberry for her sweet blood before she staked him for taking it. She didn’t need that fact thrown in her face.
Red placed her hand on her purse strings, fingers ready to snatch the hidden stake. “We both know I was pawn.”
“That seems to be a pattern.” Sancha glared, crossing her arms. “Now, you’re being loaned out like a serf.”
“A job is a job.” Red gritted out, avoiding the vampire’s eyes. She didn’t need the reminder.
Witch Gone Viral Page 13
