i ef368c4ab81ffc49 by Jeaniene Frost

Author:Jeaniene Frost
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I turned—and blinked. This was the person we were supposed to take out?

Wide brown eyes stared at me from a face that appeared no older than fourteen. He had curly black hair, a somewhat pronounced nose, and a slender build that accented his youthful appearance.

“I’ve never seen you before,” the vampire said. His voice was more in line with his aura. He might not look old enough to see an R-rated movie, but his vibe gave him away at an easy couple hundred years old.

Tate let me step back a little, but his arm didn’t leave my shoulders. “Why should you?”

The vampire smiled, showing he had dimples. God, it made him look even younger.

“Because I know a lot of people from our…country. But not you.”

Tate gave the vampire a frosty smile. “I’m new, you could say. Name’s Tate.”

The vampire cocked his head. “Who do you belong to?”

“An asshole,” Tate said at once. I wanted to smack him.

A dry laugh escaped the vampire, again at odds with his boyish appearance. “Don’t we all? I’m Anthony.”

Score! I mentally shouted. Here’s hoping Anthony wasn’t another mind reader, or we’d be screwed, although Bones assured me that ability was very rare.

“You never answered my question,” Anthony said, that pleasant smile still dimpling his face.

Tate rolled his eyes. “Why should I? I’m not hunting, I’m just here with my girlfriend enjoying the festival.”

“Let me give you some advice, sonny,” Anthony said. To anyone close enough to overhear, it would be comical having someone who looked like a teenager calling Tate sonny. “When you meet one of us, you introduce yourself, and that includes who you belong to. Or one of us might get pissed and decide to teach you manners.”

“Bones.” Tate let the name hang in the air before muttering, “Asshole,” again.

Yes, I knew it was part of the role, but I also knew he meant it, so I really wanted to smack him.

Anthony glanced around, so quickly that if I hadn’t been watching his every movement, I would have missed it.

“You’re that Tate,” he murmured.

Tate folded his arms. “Isn’t it your turn now?”

Anthony’s smile grew challenging. “Patra,” he said, waiting for Tate’s reaction.

Tate flicked his gaze around in much more of a pronounced manner. I shifted, too, but in apparent confusion.

“What are you guys talking about?” I asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about, baby,” Tate replied, giving my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Anthony here, uh, works for a competitor of my boss’s and they’re both fighting over the same contract. If you ask me, I wouldn’t mind if his boss wins it.”

Anthony raised a brow. “Really? That’s a bold statement to make to a stranger about your…boss.”

“Let’s just say I had a chance to assist your boss before, but I didn’t take it, and now I have buyer’s remorse over what I could have gone home with instead of what I got,” Tate said. His posture straightened from a relaxed stance to open defiance.

Anthony must have heard about the part Tate played back at Mencheres’s house right before it went boom, because he nodded.

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