Tempted by Blood. Laurie London

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СКАЧАТЬ clutching at Jackson’s biceps, but he didn’t succeed in loosening them. Damn, he was strong, though. Much stronger than the other one. Probably from the Sweet. Jackson hitched his arms tighter and the guy choked. As with any vampire who lived on an all-blood diet, the air from his lungs reeked, and Jackson tried to keep his head turned away as much as possible. DBs used the stench as a calling card of sorts. If you were looking for a little action, you knew you could score a hit from the guys who smelled like a Texas meat locker with a faulty refrigeration unit.

      Being this close, Jackson would need a serious shower after this was over. The DB continued to struggle, but when that didn’t work, he fell to the pavement with Jackson’s arm still firmly wrapped around his neck.

      “Take it down if you can’t handle it on your feet,” Jackson said mockingly through clenched teeth. What a fool.

      Thanks to his black belt in Brazilian jujitsu, Jackson preferred the ground and pound, anyway. At the first opportunity, he wrapped his legs viselike around the guy’s torso, locked his ankles in place and squeezed. The loser groaned loudly. Like a boa constrictor taking advantage of every exhale, Jackson’s thighs compressed him farther.

      With a flick of his wrist, Jackson positioned the tip of his knife on a precise spot between the guy’s ribs—he could find it with his eyes closed.

      Just as he was about to finish the job, he saw the flash of a blade and felt the sharp sting of silver on his forearm.

      Was that from his own knife? The one lifted from Mitch?

      Energy began to pour out of his system. Pain instantly radiated outward. He had his answer.

      His grip on the guy’s throat weakened. With a few more beats of his heart, Jackson knew the effect of the silver would be coursing throughout his body and he wouldn’t be able to hang on. Like hell if he’d let this one get away. It’d only be a matter of time before this blood-dealing loser was back to work on the streets of Seattle, enticing vampires to revert. Ply a susceptible vampire with enough blood and the old cravings of their ancestors—the uncontrollable kind, the blood-sucking, energy-slogging kind—would be too strong to ignore.

      With a final surge of adrenaline, Jackson gripped the handle with both hands and angled the point upward.

      “Eat this, you son of a bitch.”

      And in one mighty, satisfying jerk, the blade found its mark.

      Footsteps pounded on the cobblestones just as Jackson rolled away, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to avoid the charcoaling body. A thin layer of ash covered the toes of his Lucchese ostrich-skin boots and he tried to brush it off. He wasn’t picky about a lot of things, but these boots set him back almost a thousand bucks. He’d bought them to impress his parents when he showed up at the ranch wearing them—they were the only kind of boots his father wore—but they hadn’t even noticed. Still, he loved them and didn’t want them covered with Darkblood stink.

      “Holy shit, are you okay, man?”

      “Good timing,” he growled, ignoring his partner’s outstretched hand as he pushed himself to his feet.

      “The little one elbowed me right in the gut. Couldn’t breathe for a minute. Damn, you worked these guys over fast.”

      With his back turned, Jackson examined his injury. It was more like a scratch, really. He was weak, yes, but like carb loading before a marathon, all the human energy he’d slogged tonight should prevent the effects of the silver from being too serious. Or at least he hoped it would. The pain had made its way to his shoulder now and he grimaced.

      Mitch’s eyes widened. “Are you okay? He got you, didn’t he?”

      “Yeah, with my blade.”

      “I’m sorry, man. I should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve anticipated something like that happening. I heard the noise, saw shit flying, and I must’ve gotten distracted for a split second.”

      “Don’t worry about it. Darkbloods on Sweet are unpredictable.”

      Mitch pulled out his cell phone.

      “Who the hell are you calling?” Jackson asked, though he was pretty damn sure he knew the answer.

      “A medico team.”

      “No, you’re not. This is nothing.” He couldn’t let the medical staff see him in this weakened state and do any testing. Who knew what the results would show.

      Mitch eyed him skeptically. “You don’t look so good. Are you sure?”

      “Yep. I’m fine.”

      He tried not to reveal just how much pain he was in as he turned toward the nondescript back door of the club. Mitch already thought he was a stud when it came to women and fighting the bad guys. Might as well make it a hat trick, let him think this didn’t hurt like a motherfucker. “Now, come on, let’s get inside and take care of those reverts.”

      “Reverts? You mean those guys at the table with the humans?”

      Jackson rolled his eyes. “No, Cinderella and her evil stepsisters.”

       CHAPTER FIVE

      “DO YOU WANT MORE salad?” Arianna asked Krystal as she unplugged the panini maker and grabbed her own plate.

      When she got home from work, she’d decided to fix dinner before she tackled her blog post for tomorrow. Now that Krystal was her responsibility, she was trying to set a good example by actually eating meals at a table, rather than in front of her computer or the TV the way she usually did. Besides, she wasn’t looking forward to writing the article in the first place, so she welcomed the distraction.

      “I’m good,” her cousin answered flatly.

      Arianna glanced over to the banquette where Krystal was still poking at her salad. Something had to be bothering her—she’d hardly said anything more than a one- or two-word sentence in response to Arianna’s questions about how her day was, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t the food causing her surliness. The girl had devoured the same salad several nights ago, and the panini wasn’t made with anything weird. Arianna picked up her glass of wine and slid in on the opposite side of the table.

      “So you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

      Krystal didn’t look up from her plate. She hid behind those brown curls covering her face as if she didn’t care, which Arianna knew was far from the truth.

      “Come on. You can talk to me. What’s going on?”

      The girl still didn’t answer, so Arianna continued. “Is it something to do with Sarah or one of your friends back home?”

      “No, nothing like that.”

      Arianna touched her sandwich, but it was still too hot to eat. The melted cheese would scorch the roof of her mouth. She took a bite of the salad, instead. “Is it your mom? Because if it is, you can tell me anything, Krystal. I promise.” Ever since Arianna’s mother died, Krystal’s mom, her mom’s twin, had had issues. First it was alcohol then prescription meds. She’d been in and out of rehab for years.

      Krystal СКАЧАТЬ