Page 44 of Blood Descendants
“No,” Ares agrees as he lays his hands on the countertop. “It’s not. You don’t leave out a back door for no innocuous reason.”
I shake my head. “But at least I also know she wasn’t carried out the front door in a body bag either,” I say, hating the formation of the words but relieved by them. “Are you familiar with Wind Up Properties?”
“The name sounds familiar, but that only means they’re not a particularly heavy player in the city,” Ares says. Which tells me he is quite familiar with all the heavy hitters in New York City. “We could do a walk by. And I happen to be very good at getting through locked doors.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. But at the look in his eyes, he knows as well as I do that we might not ever hear back from the detective that he’s been granted access to see if there’s a back exit.
“Let’s do it,” I say. And a familiar darkness creeps into my chest. One that feels a little reckless. A little dangerous. A little like the fuck it version of myself I was as a traumatized teenager.
Ares nods. “I’ve been invited to a meeting tonight. We’ll go by on the way to that.”
“What kind of meeting?” I question, my brows furrowed.
“One Augustus invited me to,” Ares says, his tone darkening in depth. “One with other prominent vampires in the city.”
“Oh shit,” I say, my brows rising. “Is that what it meant by the New York City Barons?”
“That’s what I’m starting to wonder,” Ares agrees. “But in my digging, I haven’t found anything online about what that means or who these people are. No surprise there. It’s not the best idea for vampires to have an online footprint.”
Which seems to remind him. Ares crosses to the fridge. And there, at the back, is a box. From that box, he removes what I realize is a bag of donated blood.
The sight of it makes my stomach turn, and I look away just before Ares bites into it. There’s the sound of gulping as he drains it.
My eyes squeeze closed. I can never forget the reality of what Ares is. Of what it means.
Blood. It means he drinks blood. Human blood.
It’s all too easy to forget that vampire isn’t an arbitrary term. That Ares doesn’t just look like a bad boy. He literally has fangs and inhuman strength, wicked speed.
Ares is exceptionally dangerous.
I can’t ever forget that.
“I…” my voice shakes as I try to vocalize the question burning my chest right now. “I’ve seen other vampires feed directly from people. But you just grabbed that like it was a Capri Sun. Do you…”
“I rarely feed from a live person,” Ares says. As I look into his eyes, I think he doesn’t like me asking about this, though he doesn’t seem upset about it. “I’ve seen some pretty shitty behavior from other vampires. I just don’t want to be one of the assholes. So, I’ve been getting a bagged supply since I got back into the city.”
I nod, my eyes falling away. At least he’s a vampire with a conscience.
I hear the sound of something dropping into the trash and look up. Ares closes the cabinet that hides the trash and turns back around, his expression gathered, calm, focused. “I want you at that meeting.” It takes my brain a second to remember what we’d been talking about before I asked the uncomfortable question. “You’re smart, Vengeance. Between the two of us, I know we can glean something we can use.”
His compliments warm my chest. Even if the thought of being in a room with powerful vampires makes me squirm. “You think they’ll let me in the room? This doesn’t exactly sound like a meeting they let little human women in on.”
He lifts his chin. “You’re Lana fucking Kincade, remember? There isn’t a chair at any table in this city you don’t belong at.”
Shit. The things this man does for my confidence. For my feelings of self-worth. I’ve always been the poor girl who lived in a dumpy apartment and then the tiny little space above the sweaty smelling gym. The girl with the angry attitude and the grief trauma. The one who struggled to make ends meet. The one who had nothing and nobody.
But Ares Hunt, billionaire, businessman, the tattooed bad boy with the body of a god, tells me I am heir of the city.
“Okay,” I agree, trying to absorb his confidence through osmosis. “How soon should we leave?”
“As soon as you’re ready,” he answers. “We just need a quick outfit change.” With a smirk, he steps around the island and heads toward our bedroom.
Twenty minutes later, I’m dressed in these incredible, flowy black pants and a white top that is very nearly just a corset. I pull my hair up into a sexy but powerful updo. I don a pair of red heels.
But the moment Ares steps out of the closet, my heart stops. No, utterly disappears from my chest.
I’ve never seen Ares wear anything but casual clothes. T-shirts, jackets, jeans, the like.
