Wild Thing - Michelle Hercules Page 0,2

of my association with the king.

The music is obnoxiously loud. I can feel the bass vibrations deep in my chest. It’s definitely not the kind of soundtrack one can enjoy sober, so I head straight for the bar near the main dance floor. It’s hard not to wrinkle my nose as I’m blasted with the scent of blood and sex in the air. That’s what vampires do. They feed and fuck whenever the urge strikes. No false modesty with them.

I elbow my way through the throng of writhing bodies, getting nasty looks as I go. One stupid vamp skank hisses at me when I shove her to the side. Not a Blueblood, but even if she were, I wouldn’t give a damn. Despite her lack of status, I sense she wants to start a fight. Not tonight, bitch. I let the magic run freely through my veins, which makes my eyes glow with a white light. Immediately, the vampire backs down. No surprise there. They’re taught not to mess with powerful witches.

Thanks to my little demonstration, I have no problem getting a spot in front of the bar. A tall and extremely attractive vampire is busy mixing a cocktail. Judging by the ingredients he’s pouring into the shaker, he’s making something for a human. None of these regulars would be able to handle a Bloody Mary.

He looks familiar, but it’s not until he speaks to another patron that recognition hits me. Derek Blackwater, the last vampire made before the Nightingales went away, and owner of Havoc. No wonder I didn’t recognize him right away. He’s not wearing one of his expensive custom-made suits and he has scruff on his face.

Without lifting his gaze to mine, he says, “I’m surprised to see you here, Aurora. I thought you didn’t like to party with our kind.”

I flatten my lips to prevent an angry retort from coming out of my mouth. I have to be careful about what I say to Derek. He’s only a regular on paper. In reality, he’s just as powerful as any Blueblood I’ve met, and equally lethal.

“I’m pissed at my kind. So, I figured I needed a change of scenery.”

He raises his piercing eyes to mine. “Received bad news?”

Watching him through slits, I ask, “What do you know about it?”

He chuckles, switching his attention to another drink he’s mixing. “I’ve only heard rumors that there would be an important engagement announcement soon in the magical community. You’re the High Witch’s heir, twenty-one, and single. It wasn’t hard to guess.”

I keep the glower in place, but it’s not aimed at Derek per se. I’m still riding on the anger triggered by my mother’s news. If it were up to me, I’d never get married. I don’t see any good reason to shackle myself to any man. But tonight, I’m determined to forget the shit storm that’s waiting for me in my near future.

“Hit me with your most powerful stuff,” I say.

He seeks my gaze again, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t handle my most powerful stuff.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward, and his deep green eyes become lighter. My spine turns rigid in an instant. Did Derek just flirt with me? He’s definitely a sexy vamp, but hell, I’m smart enough to not go there.

“Oh, gag me. Save the innuendos for the blow-up dolls crawling in your club.”

Grinning, he replies, “I don’t need to waste any inferences on them.”

“I bet you don’t. Just give me a bottle of Patron and I’ll get out of your hair.”

He shakes his head. “No can do, baby girl. I don’t need an intoxicated and pissed-off witch on my premises.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan to drink it alone.”

Derek’s posture doesn’t change as he opens his mouth to no doubt tell me no again. But someone interjects before he can.

“Just give the little witch the bottle, Derek. I promise she won’t misbehave.”

I turn, coming face-to-face with Saxon Hellström, a cocky Blueblood that I’ve had the misfortune to interact with on a few occasions. I never understood the allure of vampires until I met him. He had me tongue-tied and blushing like a schoolgirl until he opened his big mouth and ruined everything. The almost five-hundred-year-old vampire has the maturity level of an eight-year-old boy. Now he’s watching me with eyes that are filled with glee and a shit-eating grin on his lips. And yet, my traitorous body does a number on me. My pulse quickens just being in close proximity to him.

“Why are you staring