Pedro now.”
It required all of Kos’s will to leave Lena, closing the door behind him. As Kos rushed through the house toward the cellar, he noted the sun setting behind the hills—fifteen minutes or so before they could go out.
Pedro fired words at Kos the moment he walked through the door. “Damn man, do you think it’s macho to walk around smelling like that, ’cause I think you need a shower.”
“Fuck off.”
“I want my hundred bucks back. Now I know the worst thing about being a vampire is smelling Le—”
“Really? Because from here it looks like you’re going to burst the fly on your jeans.”
Pedro reached down and adjusted himself gingerly.
Andre blew out a breath. “Son, you do smell like…Lena.”
“Yeah. And I’d like to get back to her. So let’s save this human, find the bottles, and I can return to business.”
It was his duty to get the wine bottled and on the shelves for the other vampires, and an innocent human who’d been pulled into a war with Hunters needed their help. But it felt far more important to heal some of the hurts Lena had suffered at Kaštel. As soon as he got back, he would lick her wounds, head to toe, as many times as it took until she knew just how lovable she was.
Through the dense branches of the lemon tree outside the kitchen window, Kos kept his eyes trained on the sky. Slowly, dusk turned to dark, and he swung open the back door, springing into the air. With a gentle scuff of earth, Andre ascended a moment later.
Exhilaration swept through Kos, stealing his breath. When he’d flown before, rescuing Lena from the Hunters, he hadn’t had time to think. He’d pushed off the ground with so much force he’d launched himself, and once airborne, it was simply a matter of direction.
In all the years he’d longed to fly, he’d pictured false starts and failed attempts, like a hatchling. Flying would have been worth it, but it was so much better that the skill came naturally. Feeling like a baby bird wouldn’t have been good for his ego, and he couldn’t have tolerated lessons from Andre.
They flew directly to the warehouse district and worked outward. Kos swept down and inspected any building that looked large enough to hold an eighteen-wheeler. Occasionally he heard the whoosh of Andre cutting through the air overhead. Kos peered through the broken window of an empty industrial building—only sloppy stacks of wooden pallets inside.
Andre whistled.
Kos bounded off the sidewalk into the air and followed the high pitched sound several blocks.
“I smell Hunter.” His father crouched under a window.
Kos landed next to a looming garage—the perfect place to hide a delivery truck.
Kos sniffed. The odor was faint, but distinct, even over the smell of human waste. “How many?”
“I only hear one inside. If the human is still alive, he is bound, or asleep.”
Kos peeled open the aluminum garage door. With a nerve grating squeak, the metal sheet came off its tracks. The missing truck sat inside, bright yellow with a telltale wine bottle logo. A scrawny kid perched at a card table with his laptop open.
“Oh, shit.” Shooting to his feet, he toppled his chair and knocked the computer. It slid off the teetering surface, but he caught the silver rectangle before it crashed to the ground.
“Initiate,” Andre said.
The boy was silent. A full circle of white ringed his golden irises, and the tart smell of his fear pumped into the air. He was scared to death.
Kos scanned the room. “Where’s the driver?”
Not a peep from the Hunter, but something thudded inside the truck.
Andre opened its rolling door. “He is in here. Alive.”
“Who are you guys? Cops?” Cowering further into the shipping container, the driver rubbed his bloodshot eyes.
“No. Not cops.” Andre untied him. “But you are safe.”
Kos tossed the man a mobile phone. “Step outside and call home. They’re searching for you.”
Prowling like a jungle cat, Andre circled
It required all of Kos’s will to leave Lena, closing the door behind him. As Kos rushed through the house toward the cellar, he noted the sun setting behind the hills—fifteen minutes or so before they could go out.
Pedro fired words at Kos the moment he walked through the door. “Damn man, do you think it’s macho to walk around smelling like that, ’cause I think you need a shower.”
“Fuck off.”
“I want my hundred bucks back. Now I know the worst thing about being a vampire is smelling Le—”
“Really? Because from here it looks like you’re going to burst the fly on your jeans.”
Pedro reached down and adjusted himself gingerly.
Andre blew out a breath. “Son, you do smell like…Lena.”
“Yeah. And I’d like to get back to her. So let’s save this human, find the bottles, and I can return to business.”
It was his duty to get the wine bottled and on the shelves for the other vampires, and an innocent human who’d been pulled into a war with Hunters needed their help. But it felt far more important to heal some of the hurts Lena had suffered at Kaštel. As soon as he got back, he would lick her wounds, head to toe, as many times as it took until she knew just how lovable she was.
Through the dense branches of the lemon tree outside the kitchen window, Kos kept his eyes trained on the sky. Slowly, dusk turned to dark, and he swung open the back door, springing into the air. With a gentle scuff of earth, Andre ascended a moment later.
Exhilaration swept through Kos, stealing his breath. When he’d flown before, rescuing Lena from the Hunters, he hadn’t had time to think. He’d pushed off the ground with so much force he’d launched himself, and once airborne, it was simply a matter of direction.
In all the years he’d longed to fly, he’d pictured false starts and failed attempts, like a hatchling. Flying would have been worth it, but it was so much better that the skill came naturally. Feeling like a baby bird wouldn’t have been good for his ego, and he couldn’t have tolerated lessons from Andre.
They flew directly to the warehouse district and worked outward. Kos swept down and inspected any building that looked large enough to hold an eighteen-wheeler. Occasionally he heard the whoosh of Andre cutting through the air overhead. Kos peered through the broken window of an empty industrial building—only sloppy stacks of wooden pallets inside.
Andre whistled.
Kos bounded off the sidewalk into the air and followed the high pitched sound several blocks.
“I smell Hunter.” His father crouched under a window.
Kos landed next to a looming garage—the perfect place to hide a delivery truck.
Kos sniffed. The odor was faint, but distinct, even over the smell of human waste. “How many?”
“I only hear one inside. If the human is still alive, he is bound, or asleep.”
Kos peeled open the aluminum garage door. With a nerve grating squeak, the metal sheet came off its tracks. The missing truck sat inside, bright yellow with a telltale wine bottle logo. A scrawny kid perched at a card table with his laptop open.
“Oh, shit.” Shooting to his feet, he toppled his chair and knocked the computer. It slid off the teetering surface, but he caught the silver rectangle before it crashed to the ground.
“Initiate,” Andre said.
The boy was silent. A full circle of white ringed his golden irises, and the tart smell of his fear pumped into the air. He was scared to death.
Kos scanned the room. “Where’s the driver?”
Not a peep from the Hunter, but something thudded inside the truck.
Andre opened its rolling door. “He is in here. Alive.”
“Who are you guys? Cops?” Cowering further into the shipping container, the driver rubbed his bloodshot eyes.
“No. Not cops.” Andre untied him. “But you are safe.”
Kos tossed the man a mobile phone. “Step outside and call home. They’re searching for you.”
Prowling like a jungle cat, Andre circled
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