Hard Bitten - Chloe Neill [42]
He tilted his head at me, interest in his expression. I fought the urge to slink back and hide from his intrigued stare, but as long as I was the target—and the girl wasn’t—I figured I could stand it.
“You are . . . interesting.”
I almost rolled my eyes, but then I realized the gift he’d handed me. I glanced slyly at him. “Would you like to find out how interesting?” Like a coquettish teenager, I twirled the end of my ponytail, then threw it back over my shoulder, revealing my neck.
As bait went, it might not have been much, but it worked well enough. He dropped his eyes—staring at me beneath hooded lashes—and began stalking toward me like a hunting lion. I’d seen a vampire stalk before—I’d seen Ethan in his prime, moving in my direction with lust in his eyes. This wasn’t that kind of lust. This wasn’t about love or connection—but control. Ego. Victory.
I stared right back, even as the intensity in his expression made my skin crawl. He would drink—but he wouldn’t stop, not until there was nothing left of me or her. Maybe it was the magic in the air that pushed him toward the brink; maybe it was his own predatory instincts. Whatever the reason, I wanted no part of it.
In a silky-smooth move that would have filled Catcher with pride, I whipped a hand around and slid the dagger from its sheath. And then it was up and in my hand, light pouring down the blade, the steel leaving a comfortable tingle in my palm. I tightened my fingers around the handle.
The vamp finally seemed to realize I was serious. His expression fell.
The dagger in hand, I looked down at the girl. “Can you get up?”
She nodded, tears slipping from her eyes. “I’m okay. But I want to go home.”
I reached out my hand. When she grabbed it, I tugged her to her feet. Unfortunately, getting her to her feet didn’t help us much. We were still surrounded—by one vamp pissed that I’d poached, and by a dozen more who didn’t have a specific interest in the girl but seemed bizarrely eager for a fight.
Was this the violence Mr. Jackson had spoken about?
I swallowed down fear that knotted in my throat, and stood straight, gazing out at the crowd with forced bravery. “I’m taking her out of here right now. Anyone got a problem with that?”
I should have known better than to phrase it in the form of a question.
“Try me, cupcake,” said the vamp who wanted me, and cold trickled down my spine. I was strong and fast and immortal, but the girl was not. Even if I fought my way through the crowd, I couldn’t fight full out and protect her at the same time.
What I needed, I thought, was a distraction.
His timing couldn’t have been better.
“Goddamn it!” I heard across the room, followed by the crash of glass that silenced the rest of the crowd.
The metallic tang of blood filled the air, and all the vamps in the vicinity turned toward the locus of the smell. I saw Jonah through the crowd, staring down a cowering vampire.
Blood had been spilled, maybe from a broken glass or pitcher. Not a bad way to get the attention of vampires—and to give me a way to get to the door.
I looked at the girl on my arm. “What’s your name?”
“Sarah,” she said. “Sarah.”
“Well, Sarah, we’re going to make a run for it. You ready?”
She nodded, and as soon as the brawler and the rest of the vamps began to move toward the waves of scent, we bolted.
I understood the draw of the blood. I was beginning to get hungry. We were nearing the end of the evening, and it had been hours since I’d eaten . . . or had blood. The smell was becoming undeniably delicious, so I gnawed on my lip to stay focused, the sharp sting of pain pushing back the hunger. As was so often the case, this wasn’t the time or the place.
I guided Sarah through the vampires now rushing toward the blood, her arm over my shoulder, my arm around her waist. We weren’t exactly graceful, but we got closer to the door and the edge of chaos.
And chaos had definitely erupted.
The room became