Page 4 of Midnight Queen

She is worth more than anything to me, and Gideon saw that. I knew my world was too dangerous for her, but I allowed myself to bring her close. I corrupted her light with my shadows and sins.

If I had the strength to take it all back, I would, but I can’t do that. The second my lips touched hers, and I tasted her sweet blood, she was mine. The fragments of what’s left of my black soul claimed her. The only thing strong enough now to take her from me is death itself.

I turn away from the blatant and unashamed display of emotion when my cell phone buzzes in my pocket. Ducking my head, I shift back and move to the side of the building where there are fewer people to overhear any conversation I may have. I don’t want to move too far away from the entrance of the hospital. He should be arriving soon, but then again, he’s never been one to be punctual. Either way, I want to make sure I’m outside to greet him before we move inside and return to Duke’s room.

Pulling my phone from my suit jacket, I check the collar ID, a small wistful piece of me hoping Quincey’s name will be miraculously sitting there. Instead, the name that is lit up across the screen instantly causes a bitter taste to form in my mouth. On any given day, she is the last person I would like to converse with, but now, even the notion of hearing her voice is enough to make me almost crush the phone in my palm. Keeping my composure, I decline the call and return the now silent device to my pocket. The grinding of my molars is the only sign of my frustration.

Annoyed, exhausted, and restless, I step away from the building but stop when the scent hits me. It’s a scent I’ve been held prisoner to for the better part of four centuries.

Blood.

Being that I’m currently at a hospital, an establishment that is constantly full of spilled blood, my first instinct is to write it off as an injury in the emergency room. But when I instinctually take a deep, greedy lungful of the intoxicating scent, I know without a doubt this blood is fresh and the source of it isn’t inside the hospital.

My gums tingle, my sharp fangs threatening to descend as my throat burns with hunger. I should have asked Della to bring me some of the blood I have stored at the house, but at the time, my own discomfort was not of the utmost importance. It still isn’t.

Turning my head, I narrow my eyes in the direction of the blood as it calls to me and my hunger. In a city like New Orleans where the threats aren’t just bloodthirsty monsters like me, but humans as well, injuries aren’t uncommon. I should ignore it and wait here like I’d planned. What’s happening on the busy streets is none of my concern tonight, but the voice in my head orders me to pay attention to what’s happening.

The last time I’d ignored my gut, I’d ended up in the predicament I’m in now. I won’t do it again.

With one last look behind me to check for any prying eyes, I take off through the dark alley. I move faster than any other being on the planet. My body is nothing but a fleeting blur moving through the shadows of the night.

Following the scent, I weave between narrow alleyways until I reach a poorly lit parking garage a few blocks behind the hospital. The scent is much stronger now and the sound of soft whimpers is no longer lost in the bustle of traffic and people milling about.

The whimpers aren’t ones of pleasure or joy, they are ones of pain. Again, I know what’s happening inside the structure is none of my business, but the knowledge that if Quincey were here with me now, she wouldn’t hesitate to charge inside to investigate keeps me from walking away.

It’s been a long time since my motives haven’t been purely selfish. Everything I’ve done, every move I’ve made, has benefited me in some way. Quincey is the opposite. Every choice she makes, she contemplates how it will benefit others. Her selflessness and bleeding heart are what drive her. Those things are what make her so wrong for me, but also what draws me to her.

Ultimately, that’s why I stalk inside the building. Forherbecause this is what she’d ask of me if she were at my side. Where she issupposedto be.

Staying close to the concrete walls to ensure that I’m still concealed in the shadows, I follow the scent of blood and soft cries that belong to a woman.

A car door slams, before a gruff-sounding voice shouts, “I warned you! I told you this would happen if you kept asking questions. Your job is to show up on time, look pretty and shut the fuck up!”

In movements too quiet for the humans to hear, I finally round the corner and the pair comes into view. What I see has my chest tightening to the point of pain as the anger I’m barely keeping at bay rushes forward.

The woman might be considered pretty if her face wasn’t bruised and covered in blood. Her nose is broken, and her lip is split. Even though she holds a balled-up shirt to her face, blood still flows from the wounds. Her heavy makeup streaks down her face as she fights to keep her tears at bay, but the man caging her between the black sedan and concrete wall isn’t helping her efforts.

While I observe, I’m vaguely aware of the buzzing coming from my phone again, but I’m too focused on the sight before me to bother answering it. The fact that I also have a fairly good idea of who is calling me also makes me less inclined to stop what I’m doing and talk to her.

He waves a hand as he continues to yell, the movement makes the brunette woman jerk back and her eyes widen with fear. “The only time I want you to open that mouth of yours is if you’re sucking dick,” the balding man orders. “Do I make myself clear?”

She tearfully nods her head.

“Are you sure? I would hate to teach you another lesson.” He reaches for her, his fingers locking down painfully on her bony shoulder. It’s only now that my eyes lock on his knuckles. Just like her face, they’re also bleeding and covered in abrasions.

My world tilts and in that moment, the dark-haired woman’s features melt away and they’re replaced with Quincey’s soft angelic ones. The balding man disappears and reappears as Gideon. It’s a face I never thought I’d see again, but he looks exactly as he did a hundred years ago. Gideon grins as his fingers tighten on Quincey’s shoulder until she cries out in pain. The rational part of my brain knows that she isn’t in this parking garage with me, but in the same breath, I’m reminded of what Gideon could be doing to her as I’m here, unable to help her.

That thought is what finally breaks the chains on my monstrous side.

One second I’m standing in the shadows, a safe distance away from the pair, the next I’m behind the man with my hand wrapping around the back of his neck. I’m vaguely aware of the woman letting out a startled yelp, but I’m too focused on the prick in my grasp.

In one fluid motion, I lift him off the ground with one hand before I’m slamming his body into the hood of the black luxury sedan. Something he can only afford because of the women he mistreats. There is no doubt in my mind that there are more girls just like the one here tonight.

The metal of the car crunches as his body collides with it. The pained sound he makes appeases the monster within. It grins, sharp teeth bared, when the satisfying scent of his victim’s blood mingles with the humid air.

With him still disoriented and in pain from the blow his body took, I yank his swaying body back into a standing position.

Turning my attention briefly to the woman, I instruct, “Go to the hospital and have someone look at your face.” She stays locked in place, her swollen eyes staring at the injured man in my grasp. I need her to leave because I know what’s coming next and I don’t want an audience. “Why are you still standing here? Go now.” The tone of my voice leaves no room for argument. When she hesitates again, I repeat with an impatient roar, “Now!”

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