“Back… off,” Stephanie snapped, then she tensed and I heard a feral snarl come from her throat and I looked beyond Nestor.
Two more male vampires were heading our way, both big, both dark, both with dangerous intentions written clearly on their faces.
Something was not right. I had no idea what was going on, I just knew, whatever it was, it didn’t bode well for me.
Or Stephanie.
She came closer, crowding me, stepping back, forcing me nearly to the wall.
Terror raced through me and my eyes flew around the room searching for my mother. I wasn’t a wimp but these were vampires. They had superhuman strength. They had teeth that could tear your flesh. They drank blood for God’s sake. Human blood! That was what this whole circus was all about!
This Selection, I knew instinctively, had turned from what it was supposed to be – a cultured, controlled ceremony where the Uninitiated were to display themselves in hopes of getting selected to service their Master or Mistress, as the case may be.
Upon entry it felt safe, regardless of what the process would eventually mean to the selectee.
Now it was anything but safe.
My eyes found my mother and she was staring at me, an hors d’ouevre in her hand frozen halfway to her mouth.
I knew from her pallor that my instincts were right.
Confirming this, I noticed Cosmo had left her. He was moving through the crowd swiftly but surely, his face set and angry, his direction taking him toward Stephanie and me. While he moved, the two new vampires closed in.
Not knowing why, my body prepared to run.
“Lucien!” Avery bellowed from the door and everyone, not just Stephanie, Cosmo, Nestor and the two vampires that had approached but everyone in the room stopped, went silent and turned to the door.
I did as well.
At the top of the steps stood a man.
No, not a man, a vampire.
Man or vampire, he had no equal.
Upon looking at him I felt as if someone had put a hand to my throat at the same time they shoved another in my chest, both at throat and chest I felt a painful squeeze.
Tall, taller than anyone there, at least six foot four, maybe six foot five, he was huge. He didn’t have lean, compacted muscle. His muscle was not lean, not compacted. It was massive, powerful, even brutal. His hair was black, so black it shone and it was thick, even had a little wave. It was too long, not in a way where it looked unkempt, in a way that said he didn’t have time to bother with such unimportant things as routine haircuts.
It looked great on him.
Everything looked great on him.
His dark suit, his dark shirt, the fact that he was the only man not wearing a dress shirt and bow tie but that the top buttons of his shirt were open, exposing an attractive column of corded throat.
He wasn’t beautiful, he wasn’t even handsome or not your normal, everyday type of handsome.
His look was too rough, too rugged, somehow both savage and compelling.
It was crazy to think it but he had the most perfect nose I’d ever seen, straight and long. Ditto with his jaw, square and strong. Ditto with his sharp cheekbones, his full lips, even his chin.
And, f**king hell, his eyes. Black, intense and staring at me.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
Then I watched from across the room in rapt fascination as his eyelids lowered, just partially, hooding those spectacular eyes and his magnificent lips twitched as if he was fighting back a smile.
He’d heard me.