Taken: A Vampire Syndicate Romance by Rebecca Rivard

Author:Rebecca Rivard [Rivard, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild Hearts Press

23

RIDLEY

“This way.” Zaq put a hand on my lower back and steered me toward a dumpster on West 42nd Street.

I tugged at my short red skirt and slanted him a glance. He’d been on edge ever since Zoe Tremblay’s call last night. His face was grim, his body taut with tension.

“Relax.” Zaq unbent enough to caress my bottom. “Let those hips sway.”

It was late Wednesday evening, and we were on our way to meet with Zaq’s contact in the New York underworld. Apparently, if I wore my usual clothes, I’d stick out like a sore thumb—or to be exact, a slayer—which would open us to attack and mean we learned zilch.

That’s what Zaq had said anyway. I had serious doubts, though. The man was a closet sadist. At least he’d let me wear my combat boots instead of the kitten heels he’d wanted me to buy.

I shot him a you-will-die look. “Easy for you to say. And take your hand off my ass.”

His lips twitched, which made me glad I’d taken a chance and teased him a little.

“Those legs of yours are the best camouflage,” he said. “Everyone will be looking at them instead of your face. And my hand is staying right where it is, babe.” He squeezed my butt cheek. “I’m your master, remember?”

I snorted. “Don’t push your luck, babe.”

And then I gave him a wide smile, because I was supposed to be a thrall.

Zaq’s thrall.

But not the pampered, well-paid toy of a rich syndicate prince. No, I was the blood-addicted thrall of a sleazy underworld vampire.

The sleazy underworld vampire would be Zaq. A barber had trimmed his beard back to a sexy dark stubble and given him an 80s-style haircut with sideburns and bangs that dipped over the center of his forehead. For tonight’s outing, Zaq had slicked down his hair and donned a bronze sharkskin suit that we’d picked up at the same thrift store where we’d bought my skirt.

We’d both put on pale makeup, and I’d painted dark circles under my eyes and bite marks on my throat. Zaq had bought braided leather bands to hide the scars on his wrists.

Zaq slipped around the back of the dumpster and ran his hands up the brick wall behind it. He pressed a brick and a door slid open, revealing a flight of rusty metal stairs.

We started down, him going first.

“Careful,” he told me. “They’re steep and a little shaky.”

I nodded. “Don’t worry. I have good balance.”

“I noticed. There’s not much you’re not good at, is there?”

I stopped and stared down at his back, mouth ajar. He’d said it so matter-of-factly, like it was a given: Ridley is good at pretty much everything.

I only wished it were true, because this thing between me and Zaq confused the hell out of me. I wasn’t good at relationships. I was a relationship-virgin, in fact.

I’d never really had a boyfriend. I hadn’t even dated. I’d had hook-ups, of course, but that was it.

Zaq liked me. I could feel that. And the sex had felt like more than fucking, despite what he’d said.

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