Page 189 of Vampire so Virtuous
“Feed, damn it,” Antoine gritted through clenched teeth. “Now.”
“The Code—”
“—Has been smashed apart by the Curia, and by what Minh has done this night.”
Still, Gabe hesitated. His good hand pressed tightly to the gaping wound on his neck, bright crimson rivulets spilling through his fingers. He wavered unsteadily, and Antoine reached for him with his spare hand, picking him up and thrusting him toward the feral he held.
“Feed,” Antoine commanded again, guiding Gabe’s face to the feral’s neck. “But I warn you—it tastes like shit.”
This close, Gabe couldn’t resist his natural impulses, and his jaw fell open, his fangs sliding into place. He sank them into the back of the feral’s neck, his throat working as he gulped down mouthfuls of blood, and the feral’s body spasmed in a silent scream.
Gabe pulled back, then grabbed the feral’s head, twisting it viciously until its neck gave way with a sickening crack. “Tastes just fine to me. Powerful blood.” His voice was noticeably stronger.
There were only two ferals left, and they both leaped for one each. Antoine killed his quickly, but when he turned, Gabe was feeding again, histeeth locked in the last feral’s neck.
Antoine cast his eyes around, checking the battle was over. A feral twitched on the floor, and he finished it with a crushing boot to its head. Five of Gabe’s thralls had survived, none without injury, though they would all heal in time.
He reached up to the wound on his own neck, and it had already mostly gone, the flesh knitting back together.
But his leather coat was past saving, ripped and torn and covered in blood.
He’d rather not see Cally while in such a state, but that came secondary to seeing her at all—and it had been too long already. She’d been in danger all day, and now, at last, it was over.
He pulled up the mark, reassuring himself she was alive and well and waiting for him below.
And then he froze.
“Gabe.”
The other vampire pulled back, licking his fangs, and snapped the neck of the last feral before he replied. “Yeah?”
“Where’s Cally?”
“Below.”
“No,” Antoine bit out, icy fear and burning fury clashing within him. “She’s not.”
Forty-four – Cally
Cally sat in the center rear seat of Minh’s gray SUV, a thrall pressed either side of her, and tried not to rub her swollen, bruised throat.
She didn’t need a mirror to know Minh’s fingermarks ringed it; the swelling was in ridges, and particularly uncomfortable on the side where his thumb had dug in.
Minh was in the passenger seat, another thrall driving. They were heading into town.
Toward Antoine.
She could feel him through their bond, which she’d kept permanently open since they’d left the dojang. It tugged at her—a faint thread of connection, reassuring but also despairing in the face of how little she could do to stop Minh’s plans from unfolding.
She guessed Antoine was at Gabe’s, helping him fight whatever invasion Minh had arranged. Could there be a threat significant enough to hurt or kill both vampires when they worked together?
“The spawn have engaged, my lord,” the thrall on her right said, a messaging app open on his phone. He hadn’t stopped staring at it since they’d got in the car.
Minh laughed with delight. “Soon we’ll see, chattel. If Antoine doesn’t make it through the night, you die. And if he does? He gets to watch you die himself. Either way, guess what?”
“What?” she blurted when he didn’t continue, channeling all her curiosity and innocence into that one simple word.
He glanced back at her, irritated. “You die.”
