Page 25 of Twice Bitten

Still unnerved, I searched for Beckett. His name wasn’t exactly common. What were the odds there’d be another vampire with the same name?

Low, as it turned out. His blond visage popped up during the first search, his wide toothy smile tightening something deep in my chest. If I hadn’t experienced him firsthand, I might have dismissed this photo as a handsome but entitled young man out on the town. But I had, and now even through the photograph I could see the arrogance in the tilt of his lips, the knowledge he could have whatever he wanted glittering in his eyes.

I clicked on the article and laughed. “Son of a senator,” I murmured. His overwhelming sense of entitlement made perfect sense now. He’d always gotten what he wanted. Why couldn’t he have a barista who’d caught his eye? It didn’t matter what I wanted, only what he desired.

Shit. His father was human, which was odd. Most powerful human families preferred to stay that way. They might do business with the supernaturals, but few of them ever chose to cross over to the other side. I wondered what had happened with Beckett. Was his vampirism the result of an attack or had he chosen to forsake his humanity?

My gut told me power called to power, and when there was more to take, people reached for it with open arms. He already had it all as a human, but as a vampire, almost nothing could stop him from taking anything else he wanted.

Disgust rose inside me as I shut my laptop and headed to the bathroom. I rinsed my mouth out and brushed my teeth, staring at myself in the mirror. Not even the food and shower had helped my haggard appearance. I probably just needed a couple of nights of quality sleep and to replenish my energy with hearty food, then I’d be fine.

A quick splash of cold water on my face, and I went backto my computer, where I busied myself with some more detailed searches of Alric and Silas.

They were both handsome bastards. Alric was an icy blond with aristocratic features and crystal-clear green eyes. He was articulate and charismatic, and from the videos, if you didn’t know who he was, you might not realize he was a Prime. By all appearances, he looked like a well-to-do aristocrat running for a senatorial seat, not the most powerful vampire currently living today, at least according to the articles I’d read—though according to the comments at the end, not everyone agreed on Alric’s abilities. From my research, the Prime had never once flaunted his power in public, keeping his mystique and popularity at a peak.

The Prime had never bothered to address the rumors circulating about his vampiric abilities. Why would he? He held the largest state in the country in an iron-fisted grip and had never been successfully challenged. In my opinion, that was powerful enough to ignore the rumors.

Silas was the complete opposite. Like Alric, he was tall, but where the vampire possessed a swimmer’s build and looked like a runway model, Silas was built like a tank. Wide shoulders, slim waist, black hair and hazel eyes, and constant five o’clock shadow—unsurprising in a shifter, but I was willing to bet Silas could shave three times a day and still look like he was on day two of beard growth. Where Alric preferred tailored suits and always looked like he was a jet-setting playboy, Silas appeared to favor jeans and flannels or pullovers and slacks.

He, too, was surprisingly charismatic when he spoke, an odd juxtaposition from his lumberjack looks. But Silas was somewhat new to power. Elected less than five years ago, he’d been forced into rule after a pack challenge had gone terribly wrong.

My eyes skimmed the article, and I couldn’t help wincing as I read the details. Unsubstantiated rumors claimed the King at the time cheated, killing his challenger just as Silas stepped into try and stop the battle. Instead of standing down, the King turned on him. Forced to fight for his life, Silas emerged from the duel a powerful, but reluctant ruler.

Talk about heavy is the head that wears the crown. It seemed that Silas never wanted to rule.

Both were filthy rich, though it looked like Alric had Silas beaten simply by the benefit of time. No one knew how old the Prime was, though there were hundreds of Reddit posts written by infatuated women speculating.

Some said he was alive during the time of Constantinople. Others believed he was born in the thirteenth or fourteenth century. A small portion believed he was born in the 70s, though I didn’t believe that for a second. Alric had ancient eyes. I couldn’t explain my feeling, but I just knew the Prime had seen things that had haunted him, things our society would never see because we were all so protected.

Alric looked the more civilized of the two. Silas looked like he danced on the constant edge of violence. This was surprising considering he was the one who held me while I was bleeding out and had asked Alric for healing packs.

I swallowed hard and slammed my laptop shut. Nothing good would come of obsessing over those two. I didn’t need to know their histories or where they stood on political issues. My life would be much easier if I put them out of my mind, the sooner the better.

But when I closed my eyes that night and fell into a restless sleep, I dreamt of that damp alley. Of being held against a powerful chest, the kiss of cold wind rustling through my hair, and cool fingers brushing over my cheekbone, the scent of ancient magic crisp in the air.

TEN

While I’d slept for a few hours, I woke up groggy and drained of energy. I dragged myself to the coffee pot the next morning, grunting at Edmund when he gave me a cheery greeting.

My head pounded and my mouth felt dry. I felt weird. Off somehow.

I poured double the amount of coffee and sank into one of the kitchen chairs.

“Rough night?” Edmund asked.

“Had a tough time sleeping.” My voice was huskier than normal. I cleared my throat and sipped my coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. Had I put too many grounds into the filter last night?

“Did you message the Prime’s staff?”

My fingers tightened around the mug. “Not yet. If Beckett showed up to his Nest with the smell of witch blood on him, it’s possible they already took care of him.”

Edmund’s soft snort told me what he thought about that. “Regardless, you should tell them what happened. Anonymously.”

“I’ll message later today,” I promised. My VPN wasuncompromisable, keeping my identity safe. Whether there’d be consequences for Beckett was an entirely different question.

“Good. Let me know what happens.”

“I’m going to unwrap my bandages today. The skin is no longer stretching, so I’ll be able to get a closer look at the damage. The witches, or whoever they were, used poultices, and those herbs disguised the severity of my injuries. I won’t know how bad it is until I remove them and wash away the debris.”