Midnight's Master by Cynthia Eden Page A

so light she almost didn’t catch it.
    One of the other guards, a guy who was at least ten feet away, gave a nod.
    The back of her neck began to tingle.

    “Why you here?”
    Gruff, and dammit, hadn’t she just told the guy why she was trekking up to Scarlett’s house? “I need to meet—”
    “Why?” The intensity in the guy’s eyes and voice was just…creepy.
    She remembered Marc’s warning. Oh, hell, what was this, some kind of secret password shit? “Uh, to play?”
    The taser dropped. “Then have fun.”
    Doubt it.
    “Maybe they won’t use you up too much.”
    And maybe she wouldn’t come back with a camera crew and broadcast that asshole’s face all over Atlanta.
    “The party’s waitin’,” he murmured. “Hope you like blood.”
    Not particularly.

    Holly.
    Niol tensed, his gaze on the gleaming red hair of the woman who strode toward the house.
    He’d know that hair—know her—anywhere.
    Shit.
    What the hell was his reporter doing at the biggest blood party in Atlanta?
    A human like her—she’d be a meal before she even made it past the foyer.
    Then he’d have to stake a vampire. Or maybe ten.
    Dammit. He’d come to the house for information, to see what dark whispers were circulating about the dead demons.
    This wasn’t a place for a human.
    Not one like her.
    His hands fisted as he watched her through the third-floor window. Leave. The word whispered through his mind, but he didn’t use the compulsion.
    He could, it would be so easy. She was close enough to control. He could push, and she’d turn around, walk that sexy ass away and—
    No.
    He wouldn’t do that, not to her.

    The woman was making him weak.
    Time to fucking get her out of his system.
    If the vamps didn’t get to her first.
    Niol stalked toward the stairs.

    When the front door of the mansion opened, the stench of blood hit her like a slap in the face.
    Oh, damn. No denying it now, she was at a freaking blood party.
    Holly tried not to gape as she crept over the threshold. She’d heard about blood parties, of course.
    Carl had told her about them and said that if she was smart, she’d make absolutely sure she never attended a blood fest.
    Because the humans were the dinner at the parties.
    A vampire stood just inside the entranceway, his fangs embedded in a woman’s throat.
    Her eyes were wide open, staring at Holly. The vamp was gulping, sucking, drinking as fast and greedily as he could.
    The woman smiled.
    Shit.
    Holly stumbled past them, only to see a female vampire with two men on the staircase.
    One guy sat at her feet, kind of like he was worshipping her. Another, with black hair and freakishly pale skin, stood on the step above her. Her red fingernails were on the sitting man’s neck. Her mouth had locked onto the wrist of the too-pale one and Holly could see the lady’s throat working as she swallowed.
    Shit, shit, shit.
    A big part of her wanted to turn tail and run right then. She’d seen vamps drinking at Paradise before, but this was different. Everywhere she turned, they were feeding.
    And fucking.
    She could hear them. The cries of passion and pleasure. The moans.
    She was in way over her head.
    Stumbling, she rammed her elbow into a man’s back. He spun around and locked pitch-black eyes on her. Not black like Niol’s, every part of Niol’s eyes were dark.
    This was different. Only the guy’s irises were black. Hunting mode. A vamp’s irises flashed dark when he hunted or when he screwed.

    “I-I’m looking for Niol.” Coming in alone probably hadn’t been the best idea, but she’d had little choice. The house looked like a freaking photo spread in Southern Times—it shouldn’t have been a cover for a bloodbath.
    “Haven’t seen him,” the vampire said, his gaze sliding over her. “Shame on him, for leaving you all alone at such a good party.” Then he smiled.
    Uh, oh. She knew that smile. Vamp or human, she recognized a predatory glance.
    “Why don’t we go someplace quiet…”