doesn’t care much about subtle plans.
Chapter Seventeen
I can’t eat. I can’t even pretend to eat.
All of my attention is on Nathan, who’s shoveling food into his mouth as fast as possible. I know why—the female vampires aren’t exactly hiding their intentions. I see them eyeing one another from across the room, one on either side of Nathan. One’s a tall blonde, her trim figure built out like a tennis player. The other one is a few inches shorter, round at hip and breast, an olive-skinned girl with dark curls down to her ass and long purple nails filed into points.
They barely let him finish his first course before they start surreptitiously moving toward him. They act like they’re mingling, play at being distracted by conversation, but every move they make is toward Nathan. The brunette gets to him first, petting him with those long nails absently while she carries on a conversation with another vampire.
Nathan tenses, then slowly relaxes as she keeps petting him. She’s just marking her territory—for now. I glance around, looking for the blonde. She’s watching Nathan too, her eyes slitted with territorial fury as she moves closer to him. The brunette sees her and grins, then tips Nathan’s chin up to kiss her. He does, but I see his shoulders go rigid again. He knows what’s coming.
A second later, it happens. The brunette bites him, drinking deeply. Too deeply. Rather than embrace her, as most tributes find themselves doing when bitten by a skilled vamp, his hands just go limp. Rage stiffens my spine. The blonde is moving like a jungle cat now, stalking him from across the room, waiting for her moment.
“Would you care to dance, my lady?”
Connor’s voice barely breaks through my focus, and I jerk my head up to look at him. His crooked smile and sunshine eyes don’t have the calming effect on me they usually do. Nothing could unwind the knot of tension in my gut right now.
I want to wave him off impatiently so I can keep watching Nathan, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well. Even if he doesn’t take offense to it—which, knowing Connor, he probably wouldn’t—I know other vampires are waiting for their chance to get to me. So I lift my hand for him, meeting his eyes briefly. I think I smile at him, but honestly, I’m not sure.
We move to the dance floor. He’s chatting away about something as usual in his deep, warm voice, but I’m not paying attention. I make the right noises at the right places, I think, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. Not a single word makes it past my inner ear.
The brunette vampiress finishes and keeps a possessive hand on Nathan’s shoulder. I’m sure all of the attention would be flattering, if she wasn’t about to kill him. Nathan looks miserable. He shouldn’t look so unhappy right after being fed from. If she was pouring sensuality into her kiss, it should have triggered that feeling of ecstasy that I’m way too familiar with by now—but if he’s too drained, maybe it doesn’t matter. Blood magic doesn’t work without blood.
The brunette waves at someone across the room. As soon as her hand is off Nathan, the blonde is on his lap. Jesus, she’s fast. I didn’t even see her move. She takes the other side of his neck. There’s a gray hue to his skin now, and a damp sheen across his forehead.
“Hey.” Connor’s voice is gentle, and it breaks through the rushing sound that fills my ears. “You’ve stepped on my foot like four times.”
“Sorry,” I mutter.
Dammit, where did the brunette go?
There she is, not more than a dozen steps away from Nathan. She’s glaring at the blonde, but her mouth is smiling as she chatters away with whoever she’s talking to. Is she going to go back in again once blondie finishes up? They really will fucking kill him.
“Oh it’s fine, nothing an amputation won’t fix.”
“Good,” I say absently.
The blonde has stopped, but I still can’t breathe. She’s grinning over my brother’s shoulder at the brunette. Nathan’s forehead is on her shoulder, but I don’t think it’s a sexual gesture. His whole posture is limp. He might just not have the strength to raise his head.
“Yes, it is good. I’ve always wanted a prosthetic. I’m thinking a flamingo foot. Or a peg leg, like a pirate, as long as I can paint it pink. What do you think?”
“Mm-hm, sounds good.”
Dammit, the brunette is