Taken by the Vampire King(4)

His brother gave a tight nod. "Sounds like a plan."

Side by side, they stalked the length of the alley. Henrik clapped Lars on the shoulder. "Up for a fight?"

The warrior grinned and flashed his fangs. "Always, my lord."

"Then let's go find one." He led them out of the alley, but didn't miss   for a moment the way Jakob placed himself in the way of turning right,   back toward the direction of the gallery, and the   too-appealing-for-her-own-good woman. So be it.

Henrik turned left, toward the waterfront and one of the main concert   stages for the festival. The crowds would be heavier there, giving the   Soul Eaters more opportunity and more cover to make a grab.

The three warriors pressed through the teeming streets, a path opening   before them as the humans' instincts made them shy away. Which was just   fine by the king. He didn't want to tangle with mortals anyway.

Notice you also don't want to eat any of them?

His footing faltered as the observation struck home.

"My lord?"

He shook his head without meeting Lars's questioning gaze. Concentrating   on the humans they passed, Henrik sought to identify each person's   unique scent and the rhythm of their heartbeat. And...nothing. Not a   single one tempted his bloodlust. Or his cock.

Then why had the woman? Kaira, she'd called herself.

Henrik cut the inquiry off at the knees. Curiosity was a dangerous   animal where she was concerned. He couldn't allow himself the luxury of   exploring the unusual desires she'd raised in him. Going down that road   led to two equally bad outcomes-her, dead and soulless, and him, a  giant  leap closer to becoming that which he most hated.

So he wasn't going to ask the whys of it. No matter how much the mere memory of her scent wound him up inside.

They reached the plaza in front of one of the central festival venues.   They made a sweep around the plaza and retreated to the shadows.   Watching. Waiting.

Nothing.

Sonofabitch.

The night dragged on. The hour grew late. The crowds thinned.

The monster inside him grew restless. It stalked back and forth within   his mind growling and rattling its chains until the noise grew   unbearable. Rage filled his chest so fully it was hard to breathe.

Jakob tensed beside him.

A split second later, Henrik picked up on it, too-the fetid stench of evil. Soul Eaters walked among them.

He methodically surveyed the crowd.

There. Four of them entered the plaza where he and his warriors had earlier.

Henrik's body was in motion before he'd made the conscious decision to do so.

They were halfway across the square before their enemies became aware of   them. The quartet paused, then turned on a dime and backtracked the  way  they came. Didn't mean they were giving up their quest for human   victims, though. In their blind desperation for blood and souls, the   Soul Eaters shared none of their vampire brethren's reluctance to reveal   their existence to humanity. While a select few influential humans   known as The Electorate knew of the existence of the immortals and   allied with the vampire kings to defeat them, the mass of mortals did   not. It was better that way for everyone, and protecting that secret was   one of the constant battles he and his warriors fought.

Outside of the plaza, their enemies broke into a preternatural run.   Henrik followed in pursuit. The four of them represented his path to   freedom from the jaws of the beast within. At least for tonight. He   wouldn't stop until they were dead. Or he was.

He paused at an intersection, anticipation thrumming through his veins.   Jakob and Lars came up behind him. Henrik extended out his senses. For a   long moment, he couldn't pick up a trace of them. Then he smelled it.   Blood. Warm. Spilled. Spilling. A growl rumbled up from his chest.

Instinct led him toward the scent most fundamental to the survival of   his kind. Halfway down the block, he spun into a dark alley, just wide   enough to hide a long row of industrial garbage cans.

Just beyond them, two figures stood pressed against the wall.

"Dum faen." Dumb fuck. Henrik muttered under his breath as he stalked   toward the Soul Eater, so blood-drunk he apparently didn't hear the   warriors' approach. "This one's mine."

The faint, infrequent thump of the victim's heartbeat told him the   damage was done, but the fact that the man retained any cardiac rhythm   meant his soul remained intact. Henrik wrenched the Soul Eater away   before he could consume that final reward. The human crumpled in a   lifeless pile to the ground.                       
       
           



       

The king let the beast loose.

And, damn, it was far too easy to do.

Like an exorcism, his own demons raged and fought. He lost all   awareness, all sense of time and space. All sense of self as he battled   the Soul Eater.

Hands grabbed at him, yanked him back. Henrik focused on the new   targets, gnashing his teeth and swing his fists. Voices finally   penetrated the choking fog of violence suffocating his mind, his   humanity.

Jakob and Lars.

"He's dead. Henrik, he's dead," Jakob said. "It's done. The dawn will take care of the rest."

His gaze sought proof of the Soul Eater's demise and found it in the broken body on the pavement. Or what was left of it.

He stopped fighting their grip and let himself be dragged away.

His breathing was a freight train in the night, sawing in and out of   burning lungs. His pulse throbbed in his now swollen, shredded knuckles.   Warm liquid oozed over his face in too many places to count.

The king nodded, or tried. He wasn't yet sure of the connection between his sentient self and his physical actions.

It wasn't until the pain hit that he trusted himself again. Head hanging   on his shoulders, he looked down at his torso. Coat destroyed. Shirts   and skin beneath hanging in torn strips. Blood dripped from his face,   but his hands were useless to wipe it away. More of the crimson covered   the skin there, too, as if he'd bathed in blood. His own and his   enemy's.

Christ, he hadn't felt a moment of the Soul Eater's effort to defend itself. He'd been totally unaware.

White-hot fear lanced through him, and a sob ripped up his throat.

This is how it's going to be. This is what lies before me.

A scream pierced the thick silence. And again.

The sound beckoned the darkness encroaching on Henrik's psyche. A red cape before a raging bull.

Three Soul Eaters remained out there. Somewhere. And every instinct in   his body told him at least one was the source of that human's alarm.

Driven by the beast within, Henrik shoved Jakob away, flipped off the gritty pavement and took off in search of his next kill.





Chapter 4

Kaira said her goodbyes to the group of other contestants and crossed   the street. The reception had ended and everyone was gathering down the   street at a bar to continue the festivities, but she wasn't up to it.   Fever still heated her skin, her hip joints ached and tenderness had   settled into her left side. Ever since her encounter with the older   man-Jakob, he'd called himself-she'd felt shaky. Ridiculous, really.   Nothing had happened. But her body didn't seem to be convinced.

She dipped her chin further underneath the chunky scarf and held the   collar of her wool dress coat closed at her throat. Should've brought a   change of clothes, but when she'd left her little, out-of-the-way hotel   this afternoon, it hadn't seemed necessary. Now she was cold and tired   and feeling the weight of her illness, and the two-block walk back to   the bus stop seemed like two miles. Especially in heels. If it wasn't  so  cold, she'd have slipped them off and walked in her bare feet.

Turning the corner, Kaira distracted herself from her aches by replaying   the night's highlights in her mind's eye. Two of her photographs had   already sold. She'd had great conversations with the rest of the   judges-everyone seemed universally impressed with her vision for the   series and especially with her violet aurora. She could've broken out   into a dance in the middle of the gallery. And she'd had a promising   conversation with a travel editor at a magazine based out of Copenhagen.   All in all, one of the best nights of her life.

A flare of green light momentarily illuminated the street. Above her,   the color rippled, like a holographic flag flapping in the wind. Her   fingers itched for the feel of her camera.

She crossed the intersection and the small shelter for the bus stop came   into view in the distance. At least she could sleep in tomorrow  morning  and let her body recuperate a bit from all the excitement of  the day.

Her scalp prickled and her body broke out in goose bumps. She burrowed   into her coat, but the sensations worsened. Kaira peered over her   shoulder.