I don’t like that Bran Duval, second in line in the Duval Vampire House, is insinuating that I’m a rodent, but that’s not the most shocking part of that sentence, so I let it go.
“Warn me about what?” I ask.
“Your Pledging,” he says. “I thought you might want to know that the Duval House plans to put a bid on you.”
“They what?!”
He tsks like he’s annoyed with my reaction, as if it’s an overreaction.
IT’S NOT.
Most families have been established so long, the Pledge is more of a formality than anything. If I actually planned to stay in Midnight, everyone would expect me to pledge myself to Locke House as a blood donor, since that’s who my family has been with for nearly two hundred years.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected a rival vampire family to bid for me.
“Why would they do that?” I ask. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I agree. I told my brother he was out of his fucking mind.”
I snort. “You don’t have to be an ass.”
“I know a difficult blood bag when I see one.”
My eyes widen. “Excuse me? You don’t even know me!”
He taps at his ear. “Vampire hearing, remember? I’ve been listening to you whine and complain for months.”
By the time this night is over, I think I will have filled my embarrassment quota for a lifetime. And I might also be wanted for staking a vampire.
“You’ve been listening to me?”
“It’s not as if I enjoy it.”
My mind flips through all of the possible things he’s heard me say and do. So many embarrassing and—
Oh god.
Has he heard me getting myself off?
I am so ready to leave Midnight Harbor. I hate this place. I hate supernaturals!
“I need you to leave,” I say. “Before I call the Guard.”
“Now why would you do that?” he challenges.
I grab a bamboo straw from the canister on the counter and brandish it like a knife. “Because I’m about to murder a vampire.”
His eyes flare bright gold. In a flash, he’s disappeared from my line of sight.
I stumble back, because I know what it means when a vampire disappears. They’re using their supernatural speed, and who the hell knows where they’ll pop back up.
As I reach for one of the knives in the block on the counter, Bran slams into me, his hand around my throat. The air rushes out of me.
I stab blindly, first with the knife, because let’s be honest, I don’t want to kill him. I’m not the killing type.
The knife lands with a sickening shwump in his chest. He looks down at the hilt protruding from his flesh as I let out a little yip of shock.
The air takes on the tangy scent of his blood.
He breathes fast through his nose as his eyes turn molten.
The first lesson my mother taught me as a child of Midnight Harbor was that when a vampire’s eyes change color or glow, don’t run, walk away. Slowly, carefully. It was one of those lessons passed down from mother to daughter from a time when the lessons were hard won.
I haven’t had to worry about tangling with a pissed off, hungry vampire.
They’ve all minded their manners.
Until now.
Bran pulls the blade out of his chest and, with a quick flick of his wrist, lodges the blade in the hardwood floor. I wind back with the bamboo straw, ready to strike again, but Bran catches me before I can get close. He yanks the straw from my grasp and snaps it in two with one hand.
Teeth gritted, he forces me back against the wall and presses into me.
“I don’t want to fight you,” he says. His breath fans down my neck. A new kind of thrill races across my shoulders.
I’m suddenly so turned on, I want to melt into a puddle and disappear through the floor boards. Never in my life has my body ever been such a fucking traitor.
Bran scents the air, and his eyes flash again. His mouth comes to my ear, and he whispers, “Naughty girl.”
I buck beneath him. He pushes more of his weight into me and laughs, low and beneath his breath.
“Get off me,” I say and throw a punch at him. He catches my fist. Before I can comprehend what he’s doing, he has both my hands trapped above my head. My back arches automatically; my chest pushes out, and the V-neck of my t-shirt pops open. Bran’s eyes sink to my cleavage.
“There are rules,” I say through clenched teeth.
He inhales. “And?”
“And if you don’t follow them—”
“If I don’t follow them,” he says, “there’s no one to stop me.”
“Rita would gut you.”
He pulls back and laughs. “Rita won’t stand against a Duval, and certainly not me.”
Though it’s been a while since I kept up on town gossip and the shifting alliances, I think Bran might have a good point. I’m just a mortal, not even a bound one yet. I wouldn’t be worth starting a war with the vampires.
And though I don’t exactly know what drove Bran out of Duval House, I do know that no one messes with him. He’s the kind of vampire that parts a crowd.
“Fine. Go on then,” I challenge. “Bite me. Let’s get this over with. I have shit to do.”
He laughs again, lets me go, and disappears from sight.
I hear the bell clang before I catch sight of him again. He stops in the open doorway.
I pick up a piece of the bamboo straw. With its uneven break, it’s even more of a weapon now. And I’m not pulling my punches.
Bran says, “One more thing you should know.”
I make a stabbing motion with the straw. “Oh yeah?”
“It was your sister that encouraged the Duval bid.”
I suck in a sharp breath, and by the time I exhale again, Bran is gone.
