Bound by Night(13)

 What. The. Hell. Why in the world was he comparing the two? They were opposites. Human and vampire. Tall and petite. Evil slaver and innocent victim.
“Hunter’s going to kill you,” Myne said as he fell in next to Riker.
“He’s not going to kill me.”
“But he’ll lecture you with Hunterisms. A dead buffalo can’t cross the plains, or some shit. You might as well be dead.” Myne wiped one of his blades clean on his pants before sheathing it. “You know the rules. No humans at headquarters who aren’t food.”
“Who says we aren’t going to eat her?” Riker gave him a sideways glance. “And since when do you care about vampire laws?”
Myne’s gaze raked Nicole, contempt—and hunger—gleaming in his eyes. “Since I decided I don’t want to see you dead over some lowlife human.” Riker cocked an eyebrow, and Myne snorted. “That wasn’t a declaration of love or anything. The clan needs you. You’re one of their best fighters.”
Their best fighters. Riker didn’t miss the way Myne didn’t include himself as a member of the clan, even after decades of living among them, fighting beside them.
The woman moaned, a delicate noise that should have tugged at the one heartstring Riker had left. Sure, it was frayed, barely hanging on, but what remained sometimes vibrated with a faint sympathetic echo of times past.
Times when he’d had a mate, a child on the way, and hope for a future.
But thanks to Nicole’s family, he now had none of these, so not even her whimpers could conjure a shred of sympathy from Riker.
With a sudden, angry growl, he leaped onto the fence. Nicole shifted, burrowing her face into his neck so her cold nose prodded his skin. Of course, she’d be chilly—he’d taken her out of her warm house and into the freezing late-fall temperatures, and she was wearing only a cream turtleneck and gray slacks with chunky-heeled dress boots. Not that he felt bad. Not when she stood for everything he hated about humans.
Hell, given her youthful appearance, she was probably using one of her company’s products, an antiaging serum called “vampire juice” that her scientists had developed to extend human life spans.
Unfortunately, the process took away centuries from vampire life spans.
How many vampires had lost their lives to “juice” extraction? Not to mention to decades of experimentation before the antiaging therapy had been perfected.
Riker could feel his rage mounting again. He hated humans. With the passing of his human brother ten years ago at the age of seventy-six, he’d lost his last connection with humanity. And the human race had lost their last decent member.
But if he was honest with himself, he could admit that vampires weren’t exactly a race of sweet kittens, either.
He allowed himself a grim smile as he carried Nicole off the grounds and into the forest, because she was going to learn firsthand about juice extraction. And he planned to be the one to show her.

Chapter 5
Hangovers sucked.
Groaning, Nicole rolled onto her back. She didn’t even attempt to contain a wince at the aches in her joints and the throbbing in her head. Maybe it was time to lay off the gin and tonics for good. She didn’t indulge often, but when she did, she often forgot that a mere two drinks could put her on her butt.
A heavy hand came down on her shoulder, and she groaned again. Last time she’d felt this crappy—after a company party celebrating her return to the U.S.—it had been Chuck who’d found her. And who had teased her mercilessly for weeks.
“Wake up, sleepyhead.”
“Screw you.” She shrugged away from his grip, squeezing her lids tight to shut out any light that would launch her straight into Migraineville. Chuck had thought it was funny to turn on every light in her house before shaking her out of dead sleep on the couch.
A horrifying thought wormed its way through the hangover haze: he’d also brought one of his servants with him. Chuck didn’t go anywhere without a vampire to wait on him hand and foot.
Dammit. She’d sworn to never again be caught in a vulnerable state with a vampire around. She’d told him they weren’t allowed in her house, and if he went against her wishes, she’d assign him to the farthest reaches of nowhere, in one of their one-man-team sales offices.
That was assuming Daedalus’s board didn’t hand her over to the authorities or find a way to boot her out of the company.
“You’d better not have a damned vampire with you,” she muttered.
She swore the air temperature dropped ten degrees. “Honey,” came the husky, southern-accented female voice, “I have an entire army of vampires with me.”