Night Huntress 02 - One Foot in the Grave

Ian stood so abruptly, the couch overturned beneath him. I ignored that, sucking the deep gash on Bones’ tongue that he’d given himself in full view of everyone. It healed even as I started to feel better, his blood mending the damage within me.

 

Ian was livid at this change in the program. He shot Bones a glare sizzling with emerald rage.

 

“That’s enough, Crispin! Cat’s mine now, so you can remove your hands and get out.”

 

Bones tightened his grip on me instead. “I’m afraid I must disagree. I rather like my hands where they are.”

 

“Have you gone mad?” Ian jumped down into the arena. If he were human, he’d be having a heart attack. “What is this? You’d dare to antagonize me over a woman you barely tolerate? One you haven’t even seen in years? That’s hardly the behavior a new leader shows his people, unless there’s more to it than that? Is this some sort of excuse to start a war with me?”

 

Bones gave Ian a measured look. “I’m not trying to start a war with you, Ian, but if you start one, I’ll finish it. It’s very simple. I won’t let you force her into doing anything, but if she fancies you, I’ll walk away. So, luv, who would you rather be with? Me or Ian?”

 

“You,” I said at once, with a sly grin. “Ian, sorry, but you’re not my type. Plus kidnapping my friends to try and make me become your arm trophy? Not cool.”

 

An angry gleam flashed in Ian’s gaze, and when he smiled, it was dangerous.

 

“You remember slaughtering my friend Magnus, Cat? You’ve just decided that fate for one of your own friends.”

 

Then Ian pulled out a cell phone, continuing on as he dialed. “If you step away from Crispin right now, I might consider letting you persuade me to allow that person to live. But you’d better come up with a damn enticing offer, because I’m very brassed off. Otherwise, it’s the luck of the draw as to who my men execute.”

 

I heard the first ring coming from Ian’s cell. Then Tate’s voice answered.

 

“Hello,” he said cheerfully. “Francois’s phone.”

 

“Put Francois on the line,” Ian snapped.

 

“Hi there, buddy,” I called out loudly enough for Tate to hear me. “That’s Ian you’re talking to. Tell him the good news.”

 

Tate’s laugh flowed through the phone. “Oh hi, Ian. Francois can’t come to the phone right now. He’s tied up... with a silver stake in his chest.”

 

Ian snapped the phone closed, and his expression turned to pure, livid ice.

 

“You don’t have any of my men hostage, Ian,” I said cleanly. “But I have several of yours.”

 

 

 

 

 

THIRTY-SEVEN

 

 

 

 

 

IAN STARED AT BONES, looking like he might attack him right then and there. “You betrayed me,” he said with a growl.

 

Bones didn’t flinch. “I took the steps necessary to make sure you didn’t force Cat into making an unwise decision. It’s not the eighteenth century, Ian. Manipulating women into bed isn’t fashionable anymore.”

 

“If you want your boys back, Ian,” I continued, “then you’ll agree to leave me—and my people—alone. I haven’t killed any of your men, and I’ll return them all to you unharmed. But first I’ll need your word that you won’t bother me again. What’s it gonna be? Your men, or your hard-on?”

 

Ian’s eyes slid around, taking in the many faces waiting for his decision. Then they paused at Bones, giving him another truly incensed glare, and finally fixed on me.

 

“Well done, Red Reaper,” he said again, but this time with an edge of bitterness. “It appears once more I underestimated you... and your resourcefulness.” He lasered Bones with one more sizzling emerald look, and then swept out his hand. “We have an accord. You are free to go.”

 

Bones smiled, taking my arm, but I dug in my heels.

 

“Not so fast,” I said, drawing in a deep breath. “There’s one more issue to be settled first.”

 

“Kitten, what are you doing?” Bones asked low.

 

I didn’t look at him, but concentrated on Ian instead. If I’d told Bones in advance what I planned, he would have argued. Said it was too dangerous, maybe even refused to get me in front of Ian. But Bones didn’t understand that I couldn’t come this far and not do what I was about to do.

 

“I know vampires have the right to challenge their sires to a duel. Well, Ian, I challenge my father, Max. If you’re here, then he’s here somewhere. Bring him out. I’m claiming my vampire right to duel him.”

 

Bones groaned something that sounded like “Bloody hell, Kitten,” and to my surprise, Ian began to laugh. Heartily. Like I’d just told him the funniest joke ever. He actually had pink tears appear at the corners of his eyes, and he wiped them while still overcome with laughter.

 

“What’s so fucking funny?” I demanded.

 

“Did you all hear that?” Ian asked, controlling his mirth enough to spin in a circle and address our audience. Next to me, Bones’ face went to stone.

 

“You should have talked to me about this, Kitten,” he gritted.

 

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