Stalking the Dark by Beyond the Page Publishing

Author:Beyond the Page Publishing
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: vampire, new orleans, honor, bdsm, wedding, turning humans

• • •

Darting in and out of narrow streets in the French Quarter, Wim thought he’d lost his shadows several times the last hour, only to find one or both of the d’Argent clansmen waiting for him at every turn. Patience. Although this cat-and-mouse game was becoming old very quickly, Wim schooled himself not to make any foolish moves.

It was almost as if he were the prey, they the stalkers. A bell rang out twelve times, its sound muffled by air heavy with moisture and the mingled sweat of mortal bodies. The eerie shadows cast by streetlamps should have scared the hell out of the tourists, but the idiots seemed determined to party, oblivious to the evil that might befall them under the curtain of darkness.

If he had time, he’d sip life from the throat of one of the foolish women who stared at him with horror . . . and apparent fascination. He didn’t, though. Not seeing his nemeses, he darted through the swinging doors of a bar, determined to escape them.

The sounds of jazz music, mellow saxophones and blaring trumpets, assaulted his ears. He glanced around, found a corner table. It took him only a moment to realize this was no ordinary bar—but one of the upscale vampire establishments where those of his own kind who were too timid to take nourishment direct from mortals went to get their nourishment. His d’Argent shadows appeared seconds later, taking seats at the carved antique bar and shooting him matched stares after ordering whatever it was they intended to drink.

He watched them, wished he dared try to take down both burly specimens while they quenched their thirst. Discarding that idea as foolhardy, Wim tried to relax, prepare himself for the moment when he could ambush them from behind. They had to sleep sometime, though Wim had never been out when at least one of them hadn’t been lurking, watching him.

“What can I get you?” A waiter, dark-haired with prominent fangs, shot Wim an expectant look.

“O positive.” Though he’d never considered the blood type of his victims, he’d overheard another customer ordering A negative in a haughty-sounding voice. He figured his taste was more plebeian, as was his wallet.

In a moment the waiter set a draft before him, then disappeared with the ten-dollar bill Wim had laid down. He lifted the glass, took a sip of the vapid stuff. Damn, but he’d rather take his sustenance from the source, where he had no need to pay. He studied the menu, scoffed silently. Reynards had no need for the fancy vintages or additives this place charged dearly for—niceties that catered to d’Argents and other vampires with aristocratic credentials. And, he added, to the local offshoots of evil African sorcerers. The Owengas of the world seemed to have congregated in New Orleans and made this bar their own. A large party of them gyrated to the beat of the music, a sensual dance as sultry as the Louisiana climate.

Wim hated to admit it, but he was no physical match for both burly vampires.

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