Edged Blade (2 page)

“Riiiiggghhhhttt….” Head cocked, I studied him. The burgundy velvet frock coat suited him far more than I would have imagined possible. He had a gold hoop in one ear, although it was either one of those faux piercings or gold over silver. His body would have just rejected any metal but silver. Shifters and piercings just don’t mix. He wore black breeches tucked into knee boots and the breeches were snug enough that I thought I just might have to hurt some women tonight. The entire picture was topped off by the black cloth he’d tied over his head.

“I guess this suits you better than green tights would have,” I said.

A faint grin curved his lips. “I don’t think anybody would ever buy me as the boy who never grew up, kitten.”

“True. Still, Damon…green tights…”

The party was in full swing by the time we arrived.

It was something of a spectacle, attending a Halloween party thrown by creatures that were once thought to exist only in myth.

The senior Assembly members were responsible for the event and wow, did they know how to do it.

The ball was set on the estate of Amund, the oldest vampire in the southern states. One of the oldest in the world, truth be told. Amund sat on the local Assembly, and had for centuries. He didn’t have a last name. Or maybe he did, but nobody knew it.

He was the head of the powerful Amund vampire family and he ruled with an iron fist shod in a velvet glove.

I’d once heard that he’d come to America as a Norse explorer, but I don’t know if I believe that or not.

He
looked
like a Viking—big and blond; his hair cropped short, penetrating blue eyes under a heavy brow.

This wasn’t the first time I’d met Amund, either.

Absently, I reached down and stroked the blade riding in a sheath on my thigh. That job I’d worked? It had been for him. One of the first really
big
jobs I’d ever done.

Amund was…odd. He didn’t have that baiting cat-and-mouse attitude many vampires had and the only way I could honestly describe him would be to call him
bored
.

Bored with life, bored with the people around him, just bored.

I guess if you’ve seen ten or twelve centuries, life gets rather dull.

He moved through the low-lying mist that twined on the ground with grace and control. It wasn’t my imagination that people moved out of his path in an unending ballet. Whether they knew it or not, people stepped out of the way for Amund.

Me, I preferred to just
stay
out of his way.

His, and any other bloodsucker.

I don’t like vampires. I used to not much care one way or the other, but I’ve…developed a quirk. I figure I’m entitled.

After all, just under a year ago, one of Amund’s cohorts had kidnapped me, dragged me across the country and imprisoned me in a frozen fortress perched on the edge of a mountain.

The vampire’s name wasn’t on the guest list tonight, and wouldn’t be for the next five decades, but I still couldn’t breathe easily around vampires. Not all of them were like Jude Whittier, a fact I well knew, but what my brain understood and what my body understood were two different things.

It didn’t help that some of the vamps from his house
were
here and I’d received everything from withering stares to knowing smirks.

Feeling eyes on me, I looked up. My skin crawled as I saw another from Whittier House on the edge of the crowd.
Son of a bitch
. If I’d known they were going to play this not-fun game of let’s-freak-Kit-out, I think I would have kept my mouth shut when Damon had said something about the ball.

But the vampires were one of the reasons I’d come.

I needed to learn to be around them again without losing it.

The dark-haired vampire looked nothing like Jude, but he wouldn’t. They were family in the way vampires were—they’d shared a sire somewhere up the line.

This guy was newer, though.

Newer—and stupid, because he decided to move my way, ignoring the fact that Damon was a towering presence at my side.

My hand dropped to the knife and it was drawn before the vampire had even taken his second step.

Silver—
I already knew how much silver was
in
the blade, too. It wasn’t pure silver. Few weapons were. It wasn’t the best metal for weapons, but if you blended it with steel, it was damn effective. This one was the perfect mix. I could try to shred his heart—a chancy thing with the small blade and a vamp’s speed—or…I frowned, watching as somebody slipped between the vampire from Whittier House and me.

It was one of Amund’s guards.

Damon’s hand slid from my back up to my neck, a light caress—and it was his hand, not that hook.

“Damn,” Damon said, sighing almost theatrically as the guard politely—but firmly—escorted the vampire away from me. “I was hoping nobody would notice.”

“Poor Damon,” I said. My voice sounded rusty. Slipping the knife back into the sheath, I shot him a look.

A faint, cynical smile curled his lips as he followed the path of the two vampires. I could no longer see them, but then I stood five-foot-nothing.

“Kit.”

I tipped my head back and met his eyes. There were a thousand questions, a thousand comforts, a thousand promises in that single utterance of my name. He brushed his fingers down my cheek and I caught his hand. “I’m fine.”

His lids dropped low, shielding his eyes. He had amazing eyes. Okay,
Damon
was amazing. A powerhouse of a man, he stood a few inches over six feet and he was nothing but muscle from the soles of his feet up. His mixed ancestry was apparent in the pale gold skin, the high slash of his cheekbones. His hair, when he didn’t crop it close every few weeks, was inky black and tightly curled. More often than not, his hair was shaved close to his skull, leaving nothing to detract from the arresting power of his face.

His eyes, though, his eyes had always floored me.

Pale gray, ringed with a darker rim of near black, those eyes could cut right through a person. In my case, they could steal the breath from my lungs.

He reached up—the hand with the hook—and the cool silver brushed over my cheek.

“This is…an event,” I said, focusing on him instead of letting my gaze slide away to a clutch of vampires gathered in one area.

“Yeah, the Assembly likes their parties,” he said, his voice low. “Are you having fun?”

Translation: Do you want to leave?

The nerves inside me screamed,
Hell, yes
!

There were more vampires here than I’d been around in…well, forever.

But there were others, too. The air was bright, a sensation that came from having a large group of witches in one area and there was laughter and low voices on the air.

“I’m good.” I forced a smile. I was going to get over this. I
was
.

I was fine—or as fine as I could expect to be.

I looked away from him, concentrating on the ebb and flow of people around us and caught sight of a few vampires, drifting off to follow a path that led through the wispy fog up to the house. Must be dinnertime, I thought before I could stop it.

And I was likely right.

A few minutes later, that group of vampires returned, their eyes glinting with a vivid light, their cheeks with far more color than before.

A few more moved toward that same path as Damon introduced me to a man that all but dwarfed him. His name was Matthew and he was almost as big as Goliath, a friend of mine who lived about an hour south of East Orlando.

But this man didn’t have the gentle humor in eyes that Goliath had.

In fact, when he held out a hand for me to shake, I had the impression that he was dissecting me, bit by bit.

“So you’re holding the fort up in northern Georgia,” I said, as he continued to watch me, expectantly.

“There is no fort,” he said, his voice a flat monotone.

“It’s an expression.” I tugged on my hand and he let go. I resisted the urge to swipe my hand down my abbreviated skirt. His touch was like dry, desert bones—all smooth polish and death.

He continued to watch for a moment and then shifted his attention back to Damon.

As he did, I eyed him narrowly. I had the image of a large, tawny cat, high up in a tree. Ready to drop down on his prey.

Cougar
, that quiet voice of mine murmured.
He’s a cougar
.

Yeah. That fit. A cougar…and a snake.

Oh, he didn’t change into a reptile. There were a few reptilian shifters, but they were all native to the African continent and they didn’t like to leave.

“So this is your mongrel pet,” Matthew said and the disdain in his voice was so thick, it all but dripped on the floor.

I tensed.

The heat of Damon’s fury lashed the air for one split second—and then it was gone.

Pet
?

Matthew’s eyes cut to me, a smirk on his lips.

Want a reaction?

I smiled. “Meow.”

Damon rubbed his thumb across my spine and I moved in closer, partially angling my body toward his.
Don’t
, I tried to tell him. I don’t know what I was telling him
not
to do, but whatever this piece of shit was up to, it wasn’t worth it.

A dark form separated itself from the crowd and came toward us.

I looked away from Matthew to focus on the sleek shadow moving our way.

The death mask he wore covered his face completely. He wore black from head to toe. I couldn’t even see skin at his hands—he’d worn gloves as black as his clothing.

But I knew him.

“Wow, Chang. You really went all out for this event,” I said, tucking my tongue in my cheek as he slowed to a halt. “You bought a mask to wear with your all-black ensemble.”

Chang’s black eyes glinted back at me. “I wouldn’t wish anybody to waste time noticing me when there are ladies as lovely as you.”

Damon’s hand flexed. I could feel it where it rested low on back. A subtle tensing of his palm before he relaxed. “Chang.” A hard smile curved his lips. “You remember Matthew, don’t you? Out of Georgia?”

Chang turned his head, lifted a brow as he studied the other man. Matthew dwarfed him by probably a good foot. Chang was only a couple of inches taller than I was and Matthew pushed seven feet.

And I watched as fine lines formed around Matthew’s eyes the moment he locked gazes with Chang.

“Matthew…” Chang narrowed his eyes as he said the name, drawing the syllables out. “Oh, yes. I remember.” He gave a sharp smile. “How’s the leg?”

Reflexively, I looked down at Matthew’s leg.

Damon chuckled as he turned his face into my hair. “Old history. Matthew was trying to climb up the chain before he left the state, years ago. Challenged Chang—got his leg ripped off for his trouble.”

A low growl rumbled out of Matthew, but he wasn’t looking at me.

“Are we now in the habit of discussing clan business with outsiders?” he asked.

Damon’s black brow winged up. With a lazy curl of his lips, he said, “I’m in the habit of discussing whatever the blue fuck I want to discuss. You don’t like it…” His arm fell away from my back and I was none too subtly nudged behind him. “There is one way to shut me up.”

While the two of them glared at each other, Chang cordially took my arm.

He
was
more subtle about it as he tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and guided me a few steps—what he must have decided was a safer distance—away. “Kit, you are looking rather lovely. Captain Hook and Tinker Belle fit together surprisingly well.”

I glanced back over my shoulder to see that Damon and Matthew were still locked in silent combat.

Matthew would lose. But it still did something to my gut to see my guy out there, this close to what could be a fatal battle if Matthew decided to push it.

Nothing to be done for it
. I loved a warrior. This was the cost of it.

Chang’s hand covered mine and he squeezed. I looked away.

Forcing my attention away from them, I gave Chang a smile. “I told Damon he should have gone for the Peter Pan look. I’ll never recover from missing my chance to see him in green tights.”

Chang blinked, looking vaguely disturbed. “Well. I’ll never recover from you putting that image in my head.” With a sidelong look, he murmured, “Thanks for that.”

I laughed. Some of the tension in the air shattered and I realized everybody around us had been holding their breath. In the next moment, conversation resumed. I looked back, but Damon wasn’t there.

Neither was Matthew.

That was probably a good thing.

I think.

Feeling eyes on me again, I faced forward and smiled at Chang.

“You’re looking well, Kit,” he said after a few seconds and I had the distinct impression he’d been studying me, taking me in. Evaluating.

I’d gotten that a lot tonight.

I think people kept expecting me to run or hide or cling to Damon’s arm.

It was insulting.

But many of the people here had been present when the Assembly put Jude Whittier on trial. I’d been forced to recount what had happened in front of two dozen strangers and I hadn’t held it together well. They’d looked at me and seen a victim.

First impressions are lasting ones and too many of the people here had only that memory of me.

If I could cut that image to shreds, I’d be more than happy to.

A shiver of energy raced up my spine in the next moment and I breathed a sigh of relief as Damon came to stand next to me. Chang relinquished his hold on my hand and I bit back a smile. Chang’s manners were more than a little old fashioned.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, pitching my voice low.

He dipped his head and rubbed his cheek against mine. As he did that, he murmured, “Yes. But stay away from Matthew.”

“Wasn’t planning on asking him for tea and cookies.”

“That’s because you don’t share your cookies.”

With a snort, I grinned up at him. He reached up, brushed the back of his knuckles down my cheek.

Something warm and sweet shifted inside me under his touch. It had been so long…