Hard Bitten - Chloe Neill [41]
I crouched down in front of her and couldn’t see any visible bite marks. While she might have been bitten in some hidden spot, there wasn’t any blood in the air.
“Are you all right?” I asked her.
She looked up at me, her eyes orbs of black, her pupils almost fully dilated. The opposite of the vamps’ eyes. “I’m perfectly content.”
I was pretty confident she didn’t actually believe that. “I think that’s the glamour talking. Have you—have they—”
“Did they drink my blood, do you mean?” She smiled a bit sadly. “No. I keep hoping they will. Do you think it’s because I’m not pretty enough?” She reached out a wobbly hand and touched the end of my ponytail. “You’re very pretty.”
But then her hand dropped, and her eyes fluttered closed. She looked pale. Too pale. I wasn’t sure if glamour was strong enough to actually sicken a human; if not glamour, and not blood loss, maybe something slipped into her drink?
Whatever the reason, I needed to get her out of here.
Her eyes opened again, just a sliver beneath her lashes. “You’ll live forever, you know. All vampires do.”
“Unfortunately, probably not the ones who get into as much trouble as I do.”
I should have knocked on wood after saying that, but at least I smelled old blood on the vampire behind me before he attacked.
I mouthed a silent curse before standing and spinning to face him. He was tall and muscular with dark, curly hair and a chin that fell on the wrong side of too square. There was blood at the corner of his mouth, and I’m proud to say I didn’t have the slightest interest in it.
And his eyes—wholly silvered just like those of the other vamps I’d seen.
“Are you poaching, vampire?”
“She’s sick,” I told him. “This isn’t the place for her. You want human blood, find it somewhere else.”
The vampires around us began to glance our way, their gazes darting between me and him as if they were trying to work out whose side they should take. He looked around at them, a cajoling smile on his face.
“Aw, do we have a human sympathizer on our hands? Do you feel sorry for the little humans?”
Not so much sorry for as empathetic. I knew what it meant to be drunk without consent. With some luck, I’d made it through my attack, but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.
Unfortunately, the vampires around me weren’t yet convinced.
“I feel sorry for anyone who’s not here by choice.”
He belly-laughed, one hand pressed to his abdomen as he chortled. “You think any of these humans don’t want to be here? You think they wouldn’t pay to be here with us? Let the humans call us names. Let the press call us monsters. We are all that they aspire to be. Stronger. More powerful. Eternal.”
There were vague mumblings of agreement in the crowd. I’d apparently gone from anti-vampire demonstration to pro-vamp rally in a matter of hours.
You know what I thought? I thought people needed to stop holding on to their blind prejudices and do some rational thinking. Stop forcing themselves into the mold of the lovers or haters. Some vamps had issues, as this guy was demonstrating, and there were plenty of humans in Chicago—some of them elected—who weren’t exactly paragons.
“Enough,” I said. “Enough talk. This girl isn’t in a state of mind to consent to anything. I’m taking her out of here.” I squeezed my hands into fists, preparing myself for battle, and rubbed my calf against the inside of my boot, feeling for the telltale bump of the dagger hidden there.
But the vamp wasn’t buying my speech, and clearly wasn’t afraid of me. “You are not my Master, child. Find something else to do. Some pretty boy to bite.”
“I’m not leaving her.”
He narrowed his gaze and I felt the head rush of his glamour, the loosening of worry and fear, and the urge to find a spot on the floor and offer myself over to him, regardless of the circumstances.
But I kept my