Lover Reborn (Black Dagger Brotherhood #10) - J. R. Ward Page 0,45

the pinch they were in, but the strength didn’t last nearly as long, and that meant the hunt for victims was nearly as frequent as that for food.

Indeed, they had been here only a week, and he could feel the lagging effect on his flesh already—back in the Old Country, they had had proper vampire females that they had paid to be of service. Here, they currently didn’t have that luxury, and he feared it would be a while before they did.

Although if he became king, the problem would be solved.

As he waited, he shifted his weight back and forth on his boots, his leather coat making a subtle creaking noise. On his back, concealed in her holster but ready for use, his scythe was as impatient as he was.

Sometimes he could swear the thing talked to him: For instance, from time to time, a human would pass by the opening of the alley he was in; maybe it was a loner striding quickly, or a woman lollygagging as she tried to light a cigarette in the wind, or a small group of revelers. Whatever the variant, his eyes tracked them as prey, noting the way their bodies moved and where they might be hiding any weapons and how many bounding leaps it would take to put himself in their paths.

And all the while his scythe whispered to him, urging him to take action.

Back in the Bloodletter’s time, humans had been fewer and less robust, good for both target practice and as a source of sustenance—which was how that race of tailless rats had ended up with so many vampire myths. Now, however, the rodents had taken over the palace of the earth, becoming a threat.

Such a shame he couldn’t go to work on Caldwell properly. Take it over not just from the great Blind King and the Brotherhood, but the Homo sapiens, too.

His scythe was ready; that was for certain. She all but tingled on his back, begging to be used in that voice that was sexier than anything his ears had actually heard from a female.

Throe emerged from the shop and came into the alley. Immediately, Xcor’s fangs elongated, his cock getting hard not because he was interested in sex, but because that was just what his body did.

“Zypher’s finishing up with them right now,” his lieutenant said.

“Good.”

As a metal door opened down the way, both of them ducked their hands into their leather dusters and gripped guns. But it was just Zypher … with a triumvirate of ladies, all of whom were about as attractive as garbage next to a dinner plate.

Beggars, choosers and all that, however. Besides, each had the foremost requirement: a neck.

On the approach, Zypher was grinning, but being careful not to flash his fangs. In his accent, he drawled, “This is Carla, Beth, and Linda—”

“Lindsay,” the one on the far end called out.

“Lindsay,” he corrected, reaching over and pulling her in closer. “Girls, you met my friend—and this is my boss.”

The soldier didn’t bother with names—why waste the breath? Yet regardless of the improper introduction, they seemed excited: Carla, Beth, and Lin-whatever-the-fuck smiled at Throe, all green-light in the eye … until they looked at Xcor

Even though he was mostly in the shadows, a security light had been motion-activated above the door they’d come out of, and clearly they didn’t like what they saw. Two of them dropped their eyes to the ground. The other just got busy fiddling with Zypher’s leather jacket.

The intrinsic rejection was not an unheard-of reaction. In fact, no female had ever looked upon him with approval or attraction.

Fortunately, he couldn’t care less.

Before the silence could get awkward, Zypher said, “Anyhow, these lovely ladies are about to go to work—”

“At the Iron Mask,” Lin-whatever spoke up.

“—but they’ve agreed to meet us out here at three o’clock.” “When we get off,” one of them tacked on.

As the trio fell into a set of annoying, naughty giggles, Xcor was no more interested in them than they were in him. Indeed, his ambitions were far loftier than the likes of Zypher’s. Sex, like taking blood, was an inconvenient biological function, and he was far too smart to ever fall for that romance bullshit.

If one was determined to go that route, castration was easier, less painful, and just as permanent.

“So, do we have a date?” Zypher said to the woman.

The one who’d all but crawled into his clothes whispered something that brought his head down. As his brows tightened, it wasn’t hard to