"No," one of the cowering vamps said. And her pupils constricted, her vamped state dissipating. She hunched her shoulders and sank lower, angling her neck to expose the soft tissues of her throat, the position both protective and submissive. The other ducked away, hunched, avoiding Leo's stare.
"George," he snapped. Bruiser appeared at my shoulder, his eyes on Leo as if I weren't there. "Take Jane to Bethany. Have her wounds treated."
"Yes, sir." Bruiser scooped me up as if I were a child and I gasped with pain. Started to resist. Bruiser spun into the brightly lit hallway. Fifty pairs of vamped-out eyes zeroed in on me. On my throat. On my leg. On my flowing blood. Fangs snapped down with multiple tiny clicks. My heart rate tripled and I knew they heard it, but I couldn't control my reaction, fear sliding along my skin like icy mist in a winter storm. I started shaking, hyperventilating with shock. I needed help, and not just medical. Getting out of a warehouse full of vamps with blood in my veins didn't look likely on my own. I sank against him as Bruiser strode toward the vamps. Reluctantly they parted, allowing us a pathway. Still knuckling my throat, I looked over Bruiser's shoulder.
The two cowed vamps scuttled from the powder room, their limbs contorted and spidery in their haste. Leo lifted an arm and pointed at Adrianna. A sudden gust of power rippled the air, lifting my hair like the threat of lightning. When he spoke, his voice was full-throated, ominous as storm clouds, and so full of power that it shivered through me like blizzard winds through winter trees. "Adrianna of Clan St. Martin, kneel." I heard him take a deep breath as power swamped through the room. He roared, "Attend me!"
I caught a flash of red hair as Adrianna fell to Leo's feet. All around me, vamps dropped to their knees, compelled by his voice and authority. Power lanced through the air, sharp as sword points, piercing as claws. The blood-master of the city had spoken. The only sound was the thump of falling bodies, the shush of fabric, and the clip of Bruiser's fancy shoes on the floor as he carried me away. Not even the sound of breathing marred the silence.
The sensation of command and might began to fade. I laid my head against Bruiser's chest. His heart beat fast and sure beneath my ear. Quickly we were through the short hallway and into the empty open area, the echo of our movement on the brick walls the only sounds. A place full of the dead. I knew I should be one of them, would have been had not vamp saliva constricted blood vessels and slowed bleeding. It was bizarre, but the very nature of a vamp attack meant a victim would live a bit longer.
I tried to speak and had to slide my tongue across dry lips to moisten them. "Why did he save me? He wants me dead for killing the thing that took the place of his son."
"If Leo wishes you dead, he will exterminate you himself, not allow others to kill for him. He may be deep within Dolore, but he is still master of this city. He is still cognizant of his duties and his power structure, and for now, you are necessary to him."
"And when he gives way to Dolore again?"
Bruiser shrugged slightly. "Then he may forget everything but grief and you may die."
"That sucks," I whispered.
Bruiser chuckled. And carried me outside, into the welcome heat of the night. All of the humans, blood-servants, blood-slaves, and the junkies, were on the lawn or standing beside cars, faces etched with fear, worry, or false ennui, depending on their natures or experience. Almost in unison, they turned to us, watching as Bruiser took the steps to the walkway. The buzz of voices fell utterly silent. A breeze had sprung up, uncertain of its direction, wet with river scent.
Brian and Brandon stepped close. "How is she?" Brian asked.
"I'm okay," I lied.
"Barely," Bruiser said dryly, his arms tightening around my thighs and chest. To the men, he said, "She's losing too much blood. The attack wasn't intended to close her wounds."
"And the masters?" a woman called from the dark of the lawn.
"In bloody deep shit," he said, his British heritage showing in the accent and phrasing. To the twins he said, "Call Bethany. I presume she's in Leo's Porsche, likely 'round the block."
Brian looked at him oddly. "You sure? Bethany?"
"Leo's orders," Bruiser said. Both twins looked at me, speculation in their expressions. Brandon punched on a cell and turned away, speaking softly. Bruiser raised his voice. "This will be a difficult night, in the few hours left before dawn. I suggest you gather the rest of your clans' servants and slaves. The Mithrans need us tonight."
"Feeding frenzy," a voice murmured from the crowd.
"Maybe not. We can hope not," another said.