He turned when Vivienne asked in a low voice, “Why?”
Motioning to the trackers, he waited until they’d removed Evelyn from the room. As he approached Vivienne, she shrank back against the wall.
A bony hand caressed her cheek, making her skin crawl, and he answered, “Why else? It’s unfair that I wither like this while you and your kind remain flawless throughout your life.” He smiled even as his eyes grew colder. “You will never know aches, never fear human diseases, never need to work a spell that will prolong your life. And after tomorrow, neither will I.”
With that, he stepped back before walking to the door.
“Learn that spell, Vivienne.”
***
Ryan Delluci staggered as he left the pub, a human “blonde” on his arm, chatting up a storm in his ear. She wasn’t a true blonde, from the telltale dark roots of her hair, but what did he care? If it looked like a blonde, talked like a blonde—his thought pattern gave out somewhere in that saying and he chuckled. He’d lied to her, told her he was in London on business for his company, and she’d gobbled it up.
“So, where d’you live?” the blonde asked the moment they were out in the cold night air.
“Take me to your place,” he replied instead. He’d gone on break a few hours ago, and because everyone else was being a stick, choosing to stay in the boring countryside, he decided to go out alone. He’d never been to London, just as he’d told that lesbian tracker who’d kept riding his ass, and he wanted to enjoy it.
“I live over by King’s Cross. We’ll need a black car.”
“Black car?”
“Taxi? Cab?”
“Sure, babe. Whatever you say.”
“I don’t have any more money—”
“I’ll pay.”
She hugged him closer. “You are sweet.”
He kissed her, tasting the chick-drink he’d gotten her. It was coconut-based and sugary. Something with a stupid name that would not affect any immortal, or previous immortal. It had taken an entire bottle of Jack to get him to where he was, and he was sure if not for that stupid curse those druids had cast all those years ago, he could have taken in more. The blonde began moaning, and his cock jumped in anticipation, for tonight. His first British slut.
She pulled away, and moved to stand by the edge of the street. He looked down at the short and tight miniskirt she wore before moving forward and placing his hands under it. His fingers touched the material of her thong and he was about to push it aside when she squealed and slapped his hand away. He frowned.
Turning around, she gave him a look of horror, and then moved to the side, away from the street, and began backing up. Why the act of innocence after sucking his face off in the pub? Shit, he could have fucked her in the bathroom of the club from the way they’d been going.
“Look, are we going to fuck or not?” He decided bluntness was better than getting to this chick’s place and finding out she only wanted to make him tea. The blonde shook her head, screamed, and took off running in the opposite direction.
“The fuck?” He glared after her. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Fucking slut!”
Whatever. He looked at his watch. It was just after midnight. He had three more hours before he went back on duty. During that time, he’d find another one, and fuck her at the pub. Going back to chick’s places was overrated.
Ryan turned around and froze. Holy shit! She was hot. Tall, and blonde—his preference—and wearing a shitload of leather. She looked like something out of a comic book. And she was walking toward him.
He blinked and shook his head. He’d had a few shots too many, but water and coffee should cure that soon enough. The babe was still there. His tunnel vision had at first blanked out that fact she was surrounded by four hulking men. When that registered, he swallowed, wishing he wasn’t five sheets to the wind. Had he offended her or something? He tried to remember, but nothing came.
“Nice night?” Her voice was soft steel, velvet-covered handcuffs.
Ryan smiled and nodded, almost instantly forgetting her entourage. Hell, it wasn’t that hard when the chick looked like a cross between an angel and a sex-kitten.
“You from around here?” she asked, taking out a shiny cigarette case and popping one between her red lips. What he would do to exchange that cigarette for his cock. “Want one?”
“No. I mean, no I’m not from around here, and yeah, I’d like a cig.”
She removed the one from between her reddened lips and placed it between his. He grinned, already picturing how many positions he could bend her into.