At Grave's End

Therefore, I was surprised when Tate abruptly spun me around, kissing me like it was the last thing he’d get to do before dying. My muffled protest was stilled when he whispered, “He’s here.”

 

 

I dropped the polar bear to wrap my arms around Tate, kissing him back with equal fervor and sending my senses outward. There. About fifty yards away, a tingle of inhuman power hung in the air. How nice of you to finally come out and play, Anthony. Unless this was some other vampire who’d decided on a little Christmas cheer. That would be just our luck.

 

That current of power came closer. Whoever this was, he’d felt Tate, too, because now he was heading straight for us. I put a little more oomph into kissing Tate. He groaned, tightening his arms around me. Between his grip and relentless kiss, there was a reason for me to be breathless when he finally lifted his head.

 

The vampire was only a dozen feet away now. Tate didn’t bother with subtlety—he stared at him and let the barest hint of green peek out of his navy gaze.

 

“What do you want?”

 

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.

 

“What if your mistake could be remedied? I happen to know my boss would be very interested in any information a…corporate spy could provide.”

 

Tate smiled. “How does your boss reimburse? Because I’d want money and protection.”

 

Anthony waved a hand. “You can’t imagine how handsomely my employer rewards those who serve her.”

 

I’ll just bet, I thought cynically. Unless, of course, you’re talking about the people who serve Patra because she’s threatened to kill their family if they don’t.

 

“Do you have to talk about business now?” I asked, making my voice petulant.

 

Anthony seemed to notice me for the first time. He gave me a thorough once-over, and there was nothing prepubescent in it. How typical that his first reaction had been to dismiss me because I had a heartbeat.

 

“Who’s your friend, Tate?”

 

Jeaniene Frost's books