The Vampire King's Mate

Chapter 12

The adrenaline was still humming in my veins, a vibrating wire that wouldn't let me sit still. I pushed through the heavy kitchen doors, ignoring the stunned silence of the dining room, and headed straight for the back alley.

I didn't smoke. My mother would have smelled it on me the second I walked through the door, and besides, the idea of tar in my lungs didn't appeal to me.

Instead, I pulled a small, plastic wand from my apron pocket....a bottle of bubble solution I had bought at a dollar store. It was ridiculous, maybe even a little "corny," but blowing bubbles into the damp night air was the only thing that kept me from screaming.

I blew a long, steady breath. A cluster of iridescent spheres wobbled into the air, reflecting the neon "Clover’s" sign in their fragile surfaces before popping against the brick wall.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

I imagined each one was a piece of Stella’s ego.

There was a quick ruffling of fabric and a heavy footstep right behind me. I stiffened, my heart leaping into my throat. For a second, I thought it was Mr. Clover, ready to blow my head off for slamming a tray in front of his biggest investors.

"You poor, pretty thing..."

I exhaled. Not Clover. Gav. He leaned against the doorframe, looking at me with a mixture of awe and pity. "You can come back inside now, Ivory. The vultures have officially flown the coop. They left right after you walked out."

"Did they pay?" I asked, my voice still sounding a little gravelly from the confrontation.

"Daniel threw a fifty on the table and didn't even wait for change," Gav said, whistling low. "I think you actually broke him for a second. I have never seen anyone look at a waitress like she just grew a second head—or a crown."

The rest of my shift was surprisingly, blessedly quiet. Without that jinx called Daniel Connor lurking in the corner booth, the air felt lighter. I scrubbed tables until they gleamed, helped Luke and Trinity mop the floors, and finally clocked out just as the moon began to climb over the treeline.

I pedaled my bike toward home, the cool wind whipping my hair back. I was only two blocks away, reaching that sharp, shadowed corner where the streetlights always seemed to flicker, when the hair on my neck stood up.

Three shadows detached themselves from the brickwork of an old warehouse. They moved with a synchronized, predatory slouch that told me they weren't just lost. Before I could pedal faster, they stepped into the road, surrounding me.

"Whoa, easy there, sweetheart," one of them said. He was wearing a grease-stained hoodie, his eyes darting toward my backpack. "Whatcha got in the bag? Tips from the diner?"

I hopped off my bike, keeping it between us like a barrier. "I don't have anything. I'm just a student."

Another guy, shorter and broader, stepped closer, sniffing the air. "You sure this is a great catch? She looks penniless," he grunted, eyeing my faded sneakers and the wine stain on my collar.

I felt a tiny spark of hope. I secretly rejoiced—maybe if I looked pathetic enough, they’d realize I wasn't worth the effort. Please, just let me be too poor to rob, I prayed.

Wrong.

"Even if she’s penniless, at least she’s pretty," the first one said, a sickening grin spreading across his face. He reached out, his fingers catching a lock of my hair. "We can find... other things to do with her. Right, boys?"

"Really?" the third one asked, sounding way too eager.

"Yes!"

My blood went cold. I opened my mouth to scream, to fight, to do something—but before I could even draw a breath, a blur of motion slammed into the group.

It wasn't a fight; it was a demolition.

A figure moved with a speed that shouldn't have been humanly possible. I heard the sickening thud of a fist meeting a jaw, the crack of a rib, and the terrified yelp of the lead guy as he was tossed against the brick wall like a ragdoll.

In less than ten seconds, all three of them were scrambling away into the darkness, tripping over their own feet in a desperate rush to escape the monster that had just descended on them.

I stood there, trembling, my chest heaving. "Whew..." I let out a long, shaky breath of relief.

Then I saw him. Daniel.

He was standing under the flickering streetlight, not even out of breath. His emerald eyes were glowing with a terrifying intensity, and his knuckles were slightly bruised, but he looked as calm as if he’d just finished a math test.

"Since when have you been here?" I managed to choke out, clutching my bike handles until my hands hurt.

"Since the very beginning," he said nonchalantly, brushing a speck of dust off his jacket.

My relief vanished, replaced by a sharp, hot spike of indignation. "What? Why didn't you help me out earlier? You just stood there and watched while they threatened me? You can't even help out a lady in distress?"

Daniel stepped closer, the shadows stretching toward me. "But this lady in distress didn't cry for help," he said, his voice a low, vibrating hum.

I paused, my mind racing. He was right. I hadn't screamed. I’d been too frozen with fear to make a sound—until that final moment when the lead guy touched my hair. He only came out the second I made a noise.

"What? Why are you even here, by the way?" I demanded, my fear turning into a defensive anger. "Are you stalking me?"

Daniel tilted his head, a slow, dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The light hit the sharp line of his canine teeth, making them look almost... pointed.

"Guess."