Page 48 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
The vampire in the hall hisses. “Do you want me to kill him?”
“What? No, Jesus. You don’t even know me, go away.”
She tsks. “I can’t do that. Mateo’s given me permission to come see his new toy.”
Toy?
Oh hell no.
I pick up the knife from the floor, stand, jerk the door open, and point the weapon toward her face. “I’m not a toy,” I say to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Her hair is ebony and falls down to her hips. Her skin is creamy, and her face is soft. Her lips are plump and colored plum. She’s wearing a simple black dress and heels which look amazing on her.
“I hate you already,” I tell her honestly.
She beams at me—her smile is perfect—and claps her hands. “You’re going to be so much fun.” She clenches her mouth together and grits out the last word. It’s not aggressive to the point of me worrying about my safety, it’s more like she can’t contain her excitement.
I step closer and bring the knife level with her left eye. “What do you want?”
“Your blood.” She winks at me.
I don’t laugh.
She pouts. “Colt said you were funny.”
My eyebrows lift. “Did he now? Did he also tell you I like to stab vampires?”
“He mentioned it.” She shrugs. “Honestly, Chelsea deserved it. She took Hank from Moriah and the poor thing’s been so sad.”
“No offense—” I pause, waiting for her to fill in the blank.
“Evelyn,” she says with a big smile.
I frown at her. She’s terrible at reading people. “No offense, Evelyn, but fuck off.”
She gasps and places a hand on her chest, and her elation grows. “Oh my, you’re feisty. I like you.”
Groaning, I smack her in the face with the knife. “Fuck off, fangbanger.”
She laughs at my insult and hits my hand with her palm faster than I can track. The blade falls from my grasp. She catches it before it hits the floor and tosses it over her shoulder. It hits on the point and sticks into the drywall.
Damn. I need to learn how to do that.
Evelyn shoves past me, whistling as she takes in the apartment. She spins and locks her dark brown gaze with mine. A gentle but strong pulse of power brushes over my skin. It’s more intense than Grayson’s and Colt’s. She must be older, it’s the only logical explanation.
“My brother certainly likes you now, doesn’t he? He did keep you alive, after all. How old are you, Demetria?”
“Demi.” She smiles when I blink then scowl at my automatic correction of my name.
Damnit.
Why do I feel like I’ve lost the upper hand by letting her in here?
I don’t answer her question though; she’s not my friend.
Evelyn sweeps her brown eyes over me. “This slip is hot. Is this what you were wearing when they kidnapped you?”
I grunt. “No.”
