Page 132 of Hoofin’ It

“I’ll be hurting him, he just won’t come to any lasting harm, and should one of Ricci’s vampires get a hold of him, he’ll be safe from their bite—or at least capable of fighting them off. Unless you want him easy prey?”

“Fine,” she snapped.

Standing, I slid out of my jacket and tossed it onto my seat, my shirt following it shortly after. I glared at Quinton. “I don’t like this.”

The vampire showed me his teeth, and for the first time since meeting him, I recognized his intent to bite me. I tensed, my breath catching in my throat.

Strong arms circled me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. Fangs tore into my shoulder, but they weren’t Quinton’s; Ernesto’s son watched, his smile vanishing behind a visage so neutral it frightened me almost as much as the stabbing, throbbing pain ripping through my shoulder, down my spine, and into my head. Unable to scream, I choked out a faint, weak cry.

Marian jumped to her feet, took one step towards me, and Quinton grabbed her, shoving her down, catching her wrists in his hands and forcing them to her sides, his legs caging hers and pushing her knees together.

I didn’t see him bite; bright lights flared in my vision, and I shuddered.

Then, as quickly as it began, the stunning agony was gone, and I hung limply in a pair of iron-hard arms, which kept me from toppling to the floor.

“And that is what makes a vampire so dangerous. One minute, you are alone. Safe. Fine,” Abil Ili turned to face me, clasping his taloned tentacles behind his back. “The next, you are held in strong arms, too strong for a human to scape. The pain takes you, stuns you, makes you easy prey for him. With the first sip, you are his. Had he continued to drink, the second and third, you would feel your pulse weaken as he drained the life from you, your heart struggling to adapt, fighting to keep you alive. If he meant to drain you dry, he would drink for ten minutes, one hungry swallow at a time.”

Quinton straightened, although he braced his hand on Marian’s throat. A few drops of blood stained his mouth and splattered his chin. “Next time, the pain’ll waken your prey instinct, and you’ll fight, understanding death comes for you. It won’t be so easy, then.”

“Indeed,” Ernesto agreed, his voice a purr in my ear. “Take your time and find your feet, dear boy. I’ve not hurt you much—hardly more than a scratch, but it didn’t feel like a scratch, did it?”

Relief and fury waged a bitter war, but relief won. “I’ll kneecap you a hundred times for this, Ernesto.”

The ancient vampire laughed, adjusted his hold on me, and gave my chest a solid thump. “You had no idea I was behind you.”

“I didn’t. If your goal was to scare me, you get full points. You okay, Marian?”

Marian shook her head, slapped away Quinton’s hand, and touched her neck. “I think I’m fine.” She checked her palm. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a scratch. That didn’t feel like a scratch. I thought you’d ripped my throat out.”

Ernesto sighed, hooked my chair with his foot, and dragged it closer. Freeing an arm, he set my clothes on the table and shoved me down onto the chair. “That’s how traditional vampires feed. Pain is a good way to stun prey. With practice, a vampire can activate the nerves near the bite mark, all at the same time. The older the vampire, the easier it is. I could’ve knocked you out with the most intense pain you’d ever felt in your life. For the next three days, if another vampire tries to take a bite out of you, he’ll have to go through me first—and he won’t succeed. Don’t bother with kneecapping when you fight them, dear boy. Go straight for the head, and make sure you sever the spine before you’re finished.”

I had to take more than a few deep breaths to gather my wits enough to sit up and rub my shoulder where I’d been bitten. For the amount of pain, the damage and bloodshed was minimal. “Sever the spine. Right. With what, exactly?”

Ernesto smiled, and the viciousness of his expression repulsed me. Slipping his hand into his jacket, he pulled out a pair of bone-gripped daggers in black and gold sheaths. “These, one for both of you. Consider them an early wedding gift. They’re carved with a very special bone—the same bone for both.” Setting the first blade on the table beside me, the vampire circled my chair, leaned over Marian, and kissed her cheek. “My apologies, my dear. Please accept this token of my regret for frightening you.” He slipped the dagger’s hilt into her braced hand, gently closing her fingers over the bone so she wouldn’t drop it.

With wide eyes, Marian jerked her head in a nod.

Turning to Quinton, Ernesto canted his head to the side and crossed his arms over his chest. “Explain yourself this instant, son. I felt your bite on him.”

Ernesto’s son grimaced.

“Ernesto,” I called, scooting the chair a few inches forward so I could retrieve the dagger and examine the black and gold sheath, fashioned in the likeness of a phoenix rising in billowing flames. “I consented.” Aware of the odd way the Babylonian spoke, I did my best to mimic him. “Abil Ili honored me with his help, but to do so, he needed Quinton’s aid. He bit my wrist so I would not thrash while Abil Ili showed his expertise.”

The Babylonian chimed his laughter. “Such a clever little human.”

“Shane,” the ancient vampire complained. “What have you done to yourself now?”

“The injuries from his fall were fatal. It was just as bad as we were warned—perhaps worse. Abil Ili and his soothers gave him care humans couldn’t have provided. It was bad.” Quinton shot an apologetic look Marian’s way. “Worse than I anticipated when I asked to enthrall him to smooth the way for Abil Ili’s work.”

“I promised to kneecap him over it later.”

“Boys,” Ernesto spat, shaking his head. “Let this be a lesson to you, Marian. Don’t have sons. Daughters grow up to become beautiful women worthy of protection. The sons? Sons grow up to be men determined to give their old men heart attacks.”

“That would necessitate you having a functional heart,” I shot back.

With a long-suffering sigh, Ernesto bowed his head.

“Be nice, Shane.”