The Bitten - Vampire Huntress Legend 4 by L. A. Banks

Author:L. A. Banks [Banks, L. A.]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-01-07T07:02:32+00:00

"The girls seem to be gettin' on," McGuire said, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Carlos said, a little anxious about what he'd just witnessed. Damali was awfully close up on Evelyn, and had taken the woman's wrist. Had Damali turned back, or what? And why did he have to find that shit so sexy?

Suddenly the sound of the choppers could be heard in the distance.

"Incoming," McGuire announced, his expression excited. "Let the games begin."

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

Damali didn't say a word as she stood by Carlos's side on the top step of the castle's grand entryway, Harold and Evelyn three steps below them, watching the entourages dismount from the choppers. It was a spectacular sight as they watched each master inspect the staff lines, not trusting the skills of the master that had walked the line before him. Paranoia was thick in the air. She was just beginning to understand the whole twisted culture of the vamp empire.

Everything meant something. Every conversation was about power shifts, even play was about the acquisition thereof, or to show prowess and ward off an attack. The way they ate, they way they spoke, the way they made and betrayed alliances, the way they had sex—made love was too nice a phrase, this shit was carnal. Primal, beneath the polished exterior.

One by one, she sized up the targets. The first to arrive had been the Chinese ambassador. He was slim, muscular, of moderate height, and wore a very understated navy blue suit, white shirt, silk tie, and dark shades and a large insignia ring on his left hand where a wedding band might have been. He looked like he had been in his late thirties when he had turned, and he carried himself like the King of Siam. His gaze was mildly haughty but civil. His wife, however, was over the top. Damali had to give it to this female. She was all that.

Wrapped in a raw silk red sari trimmed in gold, she had a body like she could dance the seven veils and start a war. She had large, dark brown eyes set in her perfectly proportioned, beautiful face. Her jet-black hair hung in a long straight wash of silky onyx down her back all the way to her behind. Her skin looked like it had a faint hint of bronze beneath, and her cultured voice had an opalescent quality to it that practically shimmered as she spoke. She nodded before she bowed, her eyes seeming to hold a lethal secret. But her aloof air was like that of a pampered, arrogant, pedigreed catùbored, but watching everything. Damali could feel that she was old… real old. Okay, didn't want to sit next to that one in the chopper.

But when the Transylvanian couple appeared, Damali squeezed Carlos's arm. His carriage screamed old power and entitlement. Looking down his nose with a scowl, his dark gray eyes narrowed as he whipped off his shades, his military formal cutaway tux not showing one crease. His chest was affixed with medallions and crests that boasted a long lineage.

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