angels, but we bleed.
Agent Seven’s services to rescue children from L.A.’s reigning
vampire, The Agency won’t let her refuse. Company motto is the only
good vampire is a dead one, so what makes this guy different from all
the rest? This feels like a trap.
The audience clapped for the orchestra starting to enter and I searched in the dim light for where the tingle down my spine came from.
There.In the back of the balcony. It was too dark to make out features other than pale skin and a tall frame, but my Spidey sense didn’t lie.
Crap. Charlotte was taking her seat at the piano, too. As soon as the audience went silent, the acoustics would carry any ruckus we made throughout the auditorium.I darted out of my row and up the aisle. The entry walkway behind his row gave me clear access to sneak up behind him. As the vamp sat down, I touched a fingertip to the skin above his collar. He froze. A puff of smoke started to rise from the contact.
“Outside. Now. Quietly,” I whispered, and walked out to the lobby. Oh, please let him follow me.
The figure that walked out of the auditorium was unlike any vampire I’d dusted before, and that was a fair number. He was quite simply gorgeous. Dressed in casual business attire of gray and black, he looked like he’d walked out of a catalog. Everything was perfect, from his symmetrical face to the Italian leather loafers on his feet.
“I hope you have a good reason for bringing me out here, miss. The pianist has started to play.” He just had to have a nice voice, too.
“Really? You’re gonna play the inconvenienced music patron? We both know what you came for.”
A faint smile graced his lips. “And what is that?”
I waited for a passing usher to get out of earshot, then said, “I know you’re a vampire, and from that burn mark on your neck, you know what I am, too. Let’s leave the nice innocents be and take this outside.”
He stepped a bit closer, hands at his sides. Casual. “You have me all wrong, paladin. I came for the music by recommendation of a friend, and that’s all. I’m Adam. And you are?”
“Not givin’ you my name. You really want me to believe you didn’t come for a snack.”
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. Do you think I want blood on this shirt? It’s expensive.”
Okay, I didn’t have a comeback for that one.
sports, Vivian Lane is the author of the Children of Ossiria and
Strange Allies series. She lives in California with her cat Scrapper.
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