Pure Blood_ A Nocturne City Novel - Caitlin Kittredge [59]
Crap.
I had just enough time to process the single thought before Joubert slammed my head into the security grate so hard I saw fireworks. He whipped me into his house by the hair, tossing me halfway across his foyer, where I landed in a heap. The door slammed shut and Joubert advanced on me, already loosening the fly on his filthy khaki pants. “Now you and me are going to have a real chat, bitch—one that involves you screaming my name.”
Gods, my head. It was bleeding, a lot, worse than when I’d hit the mesh in the cage. And it hurt, so much so that my ears were still ringing. He’s killed you, the logical part of my brain whispered. These are your last moments of coherent thought. Get ready to be a turnip for the rest of your life.
My logic has a tendency to turn pessimist at the worst times.
Joubert grabbed my hair again and pulled me eye-level with his fly. “Sometimes, you have to show ‘em how to put their mouths to good use, but they usually catch on.”
What was he doing, conducting a seminar? I was oddly detached, not panicking at all, and I knew it was from blood loss. Head wounds bleed fast and thick, and they don’t stop until they’re good and ready.
“Understand, bitch?” Joubert asked me. He wasn’t using the word bitch in the sense that a plain human would—he meant it to indicate he was going to breed with me and I didn’t have a say in the matter.
I muttered under my breath.
“What’s that?” Joubert demanded.
I raised my head and blinked away the blood, which stung horribly. “I said, a Tootsie Roll would be more satisfying.”
Never knowing when to shut the hell up can come in handy, under the right circumstances. Joubert snarled and raised a stubby hand full of ragged nails to hit me, but his door splintered inward and he spun instead, yanking my hair painfully.
Dmitri crossed the foyer in one long stride and grabbed Joubert’s free arm, twisting it like a piece of spaghetti. I winced at the crack. “Get your fucking hands off her,” Dmitri said, “or I’ll amputate this arm here and now and then start in on your balls.”
“Hex you!” Joubert snarled back. He and Dmitri showed their fangs, trying to establish dominance over one another. In the meantime, Joubert was still tangled in my hair, so I bit him on the wrist, hard. He shrieked and let go of me. “Is this your bitch?” he asked Dmitri. “I understand a man has needs, but you should have trained her better.” His lips parted in a salacious expression. “Or better yet, let me.”
You know that expression, cold fury? I thought it was just a saying until I saw the expression on Dmitri’s face. It was blank except for anger, and not the hot passionate kind that ends in stabbings and double suicides. This was merciless hunter’s rage, all of it focused on Joubert.
“That,” he said in an even tone more terrifying than any snarl, “was a royally bad fucking idea.”
Dmitri growled, showing his full fangs, and his eyes went black, as if someone had spilled ink across the pupils. I recoiled against the bottom of the stairs instinctively. His eyes weren’t supposed to be black. No living thing’s eyes were supposed to look like that…
Joubert gave an animal yelp as Dmitri threw him across the room to hit a wall, landing in a rain of plaster. I saw long, curved razor claws blossom from Dmitri’s fingers and he walked after Joubert in that same measured, even pace.
My bleeding head was slowing, and although my skull still throbbed I thought I might live. How many concussions did that make for the week? Never mind, my head was clear enough to realize we needed Joubert alive. I opened my mouth to say so, but Irina came bolting through the door and threw herself at Dmitri, screaming, “Stop! Don’t kill him!”
Dmitri shook her off like one kicks away an annoying terrier, and Irina landed on her ass for the second time that day. “Stay out of my way,” he told her, swiveling his head slowly to lock her eyes.