Page 2 of The Guardian's Curse

“You used to be,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. He leaned, as if to prop himself stylishly against the Dumpster, then thought better of it. His nose wrinkled. “What the fuck are you doing out here? I told you I was picking you up for tonight. I drove all the way to Midnight Springs and your house was empty.”

“I was craving a midnight snack,” Alistair said, turning his head. The man’s pulse was slowing, but he had another few minutes of feeding left in him if they were careful. “If you hadn’t interrupted me, I might have shared.”

In a blur, Paris shoved him and wedged one strong arm between him and his prey. Alistair resisted, but Paris flipped his arm up to elbow him in the chin. His teeth clacked together and drove his fangs into his lower lip. As he was snarling in pain, Paris shoved him away. The wiry human crumpled to the ground at their feet.

Alistair snarled, but his friend glared back, his eyes flashing red for a moment. “Don’t snarl at me, you son of a bitch.” Despite the harsh words, his tone was almost playful. Paris nudged the man with one foot. Blood still trickled down his neck, but it was a steady, slow rush, not arterial spurting. He didn’t bite carefully to spare the man’s life, but rather to make sure he got to drink his fill before it spilled onto the ground and went to waste. “What’d this one do?”

“He was following a drunk girl to her car,” he said. “You figure out the rest.”

Paris sighed and bared his fangs. Opening two deep punctures on the fleshy part of his hand, he hauled the man up by the throat and pressed his hand to his cracked lips. The man’s head jerked to one side, bloodshot brown eyes going wide. His lips were smeared with crimson. He coughed, and then tried to pull away. A metallic clang rang out as Paris slammed him against the Dumpster and leaned in. His power was palpable as he enthralled the hapless human. “You’re going to leave here and think about your life choices. If you ever think about touching a woman who hasn’t enthusiastically asked for the miserable little worm in your pants, then my friend and I will find you. I’ll rip off your cock, and he’ll tear your throat out. Understand?”

Thanks to the vampire blood making its way to his brain, the little shitstain was staring up at Paris with a look that was somewhere between abject terror and pure adoration.

Paris snarled, a guttural sound that resounded from his chest. “Understand?”

“Yes,” he whimpered. When Paris released him, he took off running. His feet skidded out from under him, and he scrambled along on all fours before he finally got up and ran again.

Paris turned slowly to glare at him. “You. Car. Now.”

Two minutes later, Alistair was sinking into the cushioned seat of Paris’s black SUV, parked illegally across the street from the Alley Cat. Alistair winced at his reflection in the tinted glass. Just the hint of twisted gray across his cheekbone was enough to make him feel ill. He turned away and faced his angry friend instead.

“Allie, we’ve talked about this,” Paris said mildly. His fury had dissipated into something even worse.

Pity.

“Don’t call me Allie,” he replied.

“When you stand me up and make me late so you can eat a human behind a dive bar, I’ll call you whatever I please,” Paris replied. “Jason, we can go. We’re already late.”

“Wait,” Alistair said. “Until she leaves.”

Paris sighed, but said, “Wait.”

While they waited in uncomfortable silence, Paris fussed over his blood-stained hand. The oozing punctures would heal in the next hour. His eyes, usually a lovely bright blue, were still dark scarlet from the use of his power.

Eventually, the drunk girl emerged from the front doors of the bar, where a car waited. Alistair rolled down the window a few inches to hear more clearly. A sleepy-sounding woman’s voice rose above the clamor of the bar. “No, Stace, it’s fine. I was up. I’d rather you called me than end up in a ditch,” she said. “Get in. Jesus, did you drink all the tequila?”

The girl climbed into the car, and it pulled away, fading into the anonymity of the night. Sweet, foolish girl, who would never know what might have happened to her if not for one miserable, bored vampire.

Paris raised an eyebrow. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled,” Alistair said drily.

“Jason,” Paris called without breaking eye contact. “Infinity.”

“Just take me home,” Alistair said. “I’ve no desire for you to parade my failings in front of the others.”

“If you’ll just come along and quit complaining, I won’t tell them about it,” Paris replied.

The glow of the city blurred beyond the dark windows. Atlanta seemed like the kind of place he would have loved, at least before everything went to shit. Now it was just another city, no different from the rest. A world where he was unwelcome, a monstrosity to be hidden away.

Paris sighed. “What were you thinking, Allie?”

“I saved a woman from a disgusting fate,” Alistair said. “Are you faulting me?”

“Fine. It was lovely of you to defend her honor. You’re a saint,” Paris said. He propped his foot on his knee, displaying his black designer sneakers. Paris had always been a vain little peacock, though his beauty certainly deserved some bit of vanity. “But we both know you were on the hunt, and this was convenient.”

“Do we both know that?”

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