Blood Rites (The Dresden Files #6) - Jim Butcher Page 0,46
And showing. And really gorgeous.
I gritted my teeth and beat back the sudden urge to taste-test the curvy dents in her stomach and thighs, and kept the blasting rod lit and pointing at Thomas. "Back off, toots. Put the guns down, stop with the come-hither whammy, and we can talk."
She stopped between one step and the next, a faintly troubled expression on her face. She narrowed her eyes, and her voice slid through the air like honey and heroin. "What did you say?"
I fought off the pressure of that voice and growled, "Back. Off." My inner Quixote was not to be entirely denied though, and I added, "Please."
She stared at me for a moment, and then blinked her eyes slowly, as if seeing me for the first time. "Empty night," she murmured, her tone one of someone speaking an oath. "You're Harry Dresden."
"Don't feel bad. I cleverly concealed my identity as Harry the Production Assistant."
She pursed her lips (which also looked delicious) and said, "Why are you threatening my brother?"
"It was a slow night and everyone else was busy."
There wasn't even the hint of a warning. One of the little guns barked, there was a flash of scarlet pain in my head, and I collapsed to one knee.
I kept the blasting rod trained on Thomas and lifted my hand to my ear. It came away wet with droplets of blood, but the pain had begun to recede. Lara arched a delicate eyebrow at me. Hell's bells. She'd grazed my ear with a bullet. With that kind of skill, between the eyes would be no trick at all.
"Normally I would admire that kind of piquant retort," she said in a silken, quiet voice. Probably because she thought it sounded scarier than if she'd said it loudly. "But where my little brother is concerned, I am in no mood to play games."
"Point taken," I said. My voice sounded shaky. I lowered the blasting rod until it wasn't pointing at Thomas, and eased away the power held ready in it. The sullen fire at the tip of the rod went out.
"Lovely," she said, but she didn't lower the twin pistols. The autumn's evening breeze blew her dark, glossy hair around her head, and her grey eyes shone silver in the half-light.
"Harry," Thomas said. "This is my oldest sister, Lara. Lara, Harry Dresden."
"A pleasure," she said. "Thomas, step out from behind the wizard. I don't want one of these rounds to take you if they go through."
My guts turned to water. I still had my blasting rod in hand, but Lara could pull the trigger quicker than I could aim and loose a strike at her.
"Wait," Thomas said. He pushed himself up to one knee and put himself between me and the other White vampire. "Don't kill him."
That earned Thomas an arched eyebrow, but a smile haunted her mouth. "And why not?"
"There's the chance that he'd be able to level his death curse, for one."
"True. And?"
Thomas shrugged. "And I have personal reasons. I'd take it as a favor if we could discuss the matter first."
"So would I," I added.
Lara let the ghostly smile remain. "I find myself liking you, wizard, but…" She sighed. "There is little room for negotiation, Thomas. Dresden's presence here is unacceptable. Arturo's independent streak is an internal matter of the White Court."
"I didn't come here to interfere with the White Court," I said. "It wasn't my intention at all."
She regarded me. "We all know what intentions are worth. Why then, wizard?"
"That's a good question," I said, turning my head deliberately to Thomas. "I'd love to hear the answer."
Thomas's expression become apprehensive. His gaze flicked to Lara, and I had the sudden impression that he was preparing to move against her.
Lara frowned and said, "Thomas? What is he talking about?"
"This is a tempest in a teapot, Lara," Thomas said. "It's nothing. Really."
Lara's eyes widened. "You brought him into this?"
"Um," Thomas began.
"You're damn right he did," I said. "You think I'd be here for the fun of it?"
Lara's mouth dropped open. "Thomas. You've entered the game now?"
Thomas pressed his lips together for a few seconds, then rose slowly to his feet. He winced and put one hand to the small of his back. "Looks that way."
"He'll kill you," Lara said. "He'll kill you and worse. You haven't got a fraction of the strength you'd need to threaten him."
"That all depends," Thomas said.
"On what?" she asked.
"On where the other members of the House decide to place their support."