a cajoling smile on his face.
"Aw, do we have a human sympathizer on our hands? Do you feel sorry for the little humans?"
Not so much sorry for as empathetic. I knew what it meant to be drunk without consent. With some luck, I'd made it through my attack, but I wouldn't wish it on anyone else.
Unfortunately, the vampires around me weren't yet convinced.
"I feel sorry for anyone who's not here by choice."
He belly-laughed, one hand pressed to his abdomen as he chortled. "You think any of these humans don't want to be here? You think they wouldn't pay to be here with us? Let the humans call us names. Let the press call us monsters. We are all that they aspire to be. Stronger. More powerful. Eternal."
There were vague mumblings of agreement in the crowd. I'd apparently gone from anti-vampire demonstration to pro-vamp rally in a matter of hours.
You know what I thought? I thought people needed to stop holding on to their blind prejudices and do some rational thinking. Stop forcing themselves into the mold of the lovers or haters. Some vamps had issues, as this guy was demonstrating, and there were plenty of humans in Chicago - some of them elected - who weren't exactly paragons.
"Enough," I said. "Enough talk. This girl isn't in a state of mind to consent to anything. I'm taking her out of here." I squeezed my hands into fists, preparing myself for battle, and rubbed my calf against the inside of my boot, feeling for the telltale bump of the dagger hidden there.
But the vamp wasn't buying my speech, and clearly wasn't afraid of me. "You are not my Master, child. Find something else to do. Some pretty boy to bite."
"I'm not leaving her."
He narrowed his gaze and I felt the head rush of his glamour, the loosening of worry and fear, and the urge to find a spot on the floor and offer myself over to him, regardless of the circumstances.
But I kept my eyes trained on his and fought through the dizziness. I straightened my spine and gave him a questioning glance. "Were you trying to do something there?"
He tilted his head at me, interest in his expression. I fought the urge to slink back and hide from his intrigued stare, but as long as I was the target - and the girl wasn't - I figured I could stand it.
"You are . . . interesting."
I almost rolled my eyes, but then I realized the gift he'd handed me. I glanced slyly at him.
"Would you like to find out how interesting?"
Like a coquettish teenager, I twirled the end of my ponytail, then threw it back over my shoulder, revealing my neck.
As bait went, it might not have been much, but it worked well enough. He dropped his eyes - staring at me beneath hooded lashes - and began stalking toward me like a hunting lion. I'd seen a vampire stalk before - I'd seen Ethan in his prime, moving in my direction with lust in his eyes. This wasn't that kind of lust. This wasn't about love or connection - but control. Ego. Victory.
I stared right back, even as the intensity in his expression made my skin crawl. He would drink - but he wouldn't stop, not until there was nothing left of me or her. Maybe it was the magic in the air that pushed him toward the brink; maybe it was his own predatory instincts.
Whatever the reason, I wanted no part of it.
In a silky-smooth move that would have filled Catcher with pride, I whipped a hand around and slid the dagger from its sheath. And then it was up and in my hand, light pouring down the blade, the steel leaving a comfortable tingle in my palm.
I tightened my fingers around the handle.
The vamp finally seemed to realize I was serious. His expression fell.
The dagger in hand, I looked down at the girl.
"Can you get up?"
She nodded, tears slipping from her eyes. "I'm okay. But I want to go home."
I reached out my hand. When she grabbed it, I tugged her to her feet. Unfortunately, getting her to her feet didn't help us much. We were still surrounded - by one vamp pissed that I'd poached, and by a dozen more who didn't have a specific interest in the girl but seemed bizarrely eager for a fight.
Was this the violence Mr. Jackson had spoken about?
I swallowed down fear that knotted in my throat, and stood straight, gazing out