Page 50 of Outlaw Witch

He nods, his thumb running gently over my knuckles.

“Sure.” I remember the events Fabian laid out. He was trying to help his brother. The vamps gave him their blood and then stopped after a while. He tried to increase his power and wound up cursed. “He didn’t go into the details of how exactly he got the curse or who gave it to him.”

“Tainted blood,” Roscoe replies, gritting his teeth together.

I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him looking anything less than relaxed and jovial. Right now, there’s a man I’m not familiar with standing in front of me, looking like he’d like to bust his knuckles open some more on vampire teeth and bones.

“Couldn’t tell you if they did it on purpose or not. But we’ve not been able to track the fucker that gave him the tainted blood down since. That building we had you watching was where he used to hang out. We figured we could get some information about where he’s been hanging out more recently from his old nest mates.”

“And did you?”

“Not one of them had seen him in the past three months.” Roscoe’s smile is sinister and makes me feel vaguely uncomfortable. For a moment, he looks like an entirely different person, one whose cheerful mask has thoroughly slipped out of place. “We’ll find him, though, and when we do, he’s going to wish his immortality wasn’t so long.”

He then grips my fingers tightly and activates the rune on his wrist and we’re melding into the darkness again. This time, I don’t have the forewarning to keep a hold on my magic and it eagerly sucks in his power like the greedy sponge it is.

Dammit.

He pulls me through the club and up a flight of stairs. He then pushes open a thick wooden door until I find myself in the middle of an office. Roscoe pulls back his magic and the two of us then stand exposed in front of an empty desk before I know what’s happening.

I’m disoriented and confused about what the hell is happening here, as I cling hard to Roscoe’s hand.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” A deep voice roars, and my eyes go wide. There’s something terrifying and animalistic about it, causing the hairs at the base of my neck to prickle.

“Oh, did I forget to mention? Dante here owns this joint.” Roscoe gives a feral grin. “He was also the guy that cut Fabian off from using vamp blood to heal his brother. This guy here is as much to blame as the guy who gave him the tainted blood.”

My stomach drops as I sense I’ve stumbled into a situation that’s a lot more tense and complicated than I was expecting.

Something tells me this isn’t going to be a nice little chat after all.

16

Dante, the vamp, stepsaway from the wall of floor to ceiling windows looking out over the club. He’s tall, dark-haired and broad shouldered, dressed in a crisp black suit with these piercing amber eyes that seem to almost glow with the flashing lights of the club playing over his features. His jawline is sharp enough to cut glass and the way he’s glaring at the two of us has me shivering in my boots.

He moves closer, cocking his head to one side with predatory intent, and I can’t suppress a shudder.

Not of revulsion though, this guy is so good-looking, it should be illegal. It’s more the fact he is giving off some seriously intimidating vibes and, even without Roscoe saying anything, I can tell this man is something I’ve never spent much time up close and personal with.

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