How about every vampire's head on a silver platter? she wanted to say. Ever since that cop, Berkfield, had rolled up on her earlier today asking about Carlos, grilling her about his Jamaican territory, and wanting to know where he was, she'd seen red. She'd clean out every lower-level vamp left in Nuit's old vamp zones while the cops chased drug dealers till the end of time. That's all she had left to cling to梤evenge, the old-fashioned way...just like Carlos would have done for her, if the shoe was on the other foot.
The bartender leaned in and smiled. "Having trouble making up your mind? I'm not g'wan card you, baby. Dis your first time out?"
The comment grated her. Yeah, she'd cut out his heart, too. Then she checked herself. Okay, so the bartender wasn't a vamp, but the hair was standing up on her arms.
"A Red Stripe," she told him instead of ordering a Jack. When in Rome... and it wasn't about getting totaled if she was gonna kick some serious ass.
The bartender nodded and turned away to fill her order, but the sideline glance he'd cast to the other end of the bar forced Damali's gaze to follow.
Bingo.
The moment her eyes locked with the dark stranger's seated twenty-five feet away, Damali opened herself up and her internal radar kicked up a notch. Yeah. Vamps were in da house. Cool.
She accepted the beer, declined a glass, paid for her drink, and took a healthy swig from the bottle. She allowed her peripheral vision to scope out a potential rush. She could now sense at least four of them, and knew they could smell her. Good.
Damali watched the condensation trickle down the side of the cold bottle in her hand as she waited for the approach that she knew was imminent. A fucking pretender to the throne... She hated lower, third-generation vamps - always trying to push up on a sister. But that was all there was left to battle. The vamp empire had wiped out all rebel second-generations, and what the civil war didn't claim, she had dusted or they'd gone into deep hiding. Weak bastards.
"Lovely lady, what brings you out on a night like this... to a place like this?"
She didn't turn around as the smooth island lilt penetrated her ear and stroked it with sensual precision. She glanced down to where the dark stranger had been sitting and sighed at the empty seat, knowing that he was behind her and just inches from her jugular. Damali sipped her beer.
"Was looking for some action. Got bored home alone," she said in a weary tone, then casually took another swig of her beer. "There are no more masters of the game left in LA, or didn't you hear?"
The stranger laughed, slow and easy, just like the music.
She finally turned to look him up and down. She smiled. Brother was fine. Shame. Long, black, shoulder-length locks, height judged to be about six two, built, nice chest, perfect abs, the color of semi-sweet chocolate beneath an opened, burnt-gold silk shirt and black leather pants... flawless complexion, dark, lazy eyes - and very white teeth.
She took another swig. Such a waste, and she'd have to dust his ass. But at least some mother's child would go home safely tonight.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other. His smile was one of challenge, hers of warning.
"So, you came out looking for something different, tonight梥omething unusual?"
"Yeah," she snapped, growing annoyed that he was playing with her.
She could feel his hot gaze rove over her as it caressed her throat, fondled her bare breasts beneath her black belly shirt, then licked at her exposed navel, and began to trail down to that precious place beneath her boot-cut black jeans. Her muscles tensed at the psychic violation, and the Isis dagger stashed in her right boot began to feel warm against her calf.
"Chill," she said, her tone attitudinal enough to brush off the vampiric invasion. "You don't know me like that, yet."
"My bad," he crooned. "But the operative word is yet."
"Can a sister at least finish her brew?" Damali let her breath out with impatience. "Or you could buy her a drink - since you gettin' all familiar."
"Name your poison," he murmured, stepping closer to her than advisable.
"Blood."
He stared at her for a moment, and then a slow smile spread across his face, giving her a glint of fang. She shook her head. The lower generations were so much less cool than