stare held his.
Oh, yeah, the fear was there. Hiding behind the “don’t-give-a-damn” mask. Fear…and a helpless curiosity.
Humans, always so curious. Always wanting to know what lurked in the darkness around them.
And then, when they found out—running away in fear.
“She’s a reporter, André,” Niol murmured, and allowed his fingers to stroke over her pounding pulse. Already fast, the beat of her pulse began to race even more. “She’s not the prey you want.” Because she’s mine.
“Reporter?” The too-sharp teeth disappeared. “Thought you didn’t let their kind in here.”
Holly sucked in a sharp breath. She tried to yank her hand away from Niol. Tried, failed. She grunted, a sound that shouldn’t have been sexy but was, and turned her stare on the vampire. “It’s a public place, jerkoff. From the looks of things, all kinds get in here. Even the dead ones.”
“Undead.” André sniffed.
“Right.” She tugged her hand again. Niol tightened his hold. “Listen, buddy, you—”
The vamp’s lips peeled back, revealing teeth no human should see, unless the human was about to become a meal.
Reluctantly, Niol dropped Holly’s hand. Then he stepped forward, deliberately putting his body between Holly and the vamp. “Is there a problem here, André?”
The vamp was tall—big damn deal. He was taller. And the last time he’d been afraid of a vamp…well, he’d never been afraid of the fanged freaks.
André swallowed, and seemed to shrink a bit. “I-I just…” He licked his lips, a quick, nervous move. “Reporters can’t be here. Too risky, you know that, you know—”
Okay, the guy’s voice was getting too high, and two panther shifters at a nearby table were starting to look nervous. “She’s not your problem. Forget her.”
“Ah, she’s here.” Holly tapped on his back. “And getting more pissed by the minute.” Another insistent tap, right in the middle of his back.
André’s already beady eyes narrowed. The brief flash of fear gave way to anger. “Throw her out, Niol. You want the vamps to keep comin’, you throw that bitch out.”
The tapping stopped, and, because the vampire had raised his shrill-ass voice again, the nearby paranormals—because, generally, the folks who came in his bar were far, far from normal—stilled.
Niol shook his head slowly. “I think you’re forgetting a few things, vamp.” He gathered the black swell of power that pulsed just beneath his skin. Felt the surge of dark magic and—
The vamp flew across the bar, slamming into the stage with a scream. The lead guitarist swore, then jumped back, cradling his guitar with both hands like the precious baby he thought it was.
The sudden silence was deafening.
Niol motioned toward the bar. “Get me another drink, Marc.” He glanced at the slowly rising vampire. “Did I tell you to get up?” It barely took any effort to slam the bastard into the stage wall this time. Just a stray thought, really.
Ah, but power was a wonderful thing.
Sometimes, it was damn good to be a demon. And even better to be a level-ten, and the baddest asshole in the room.
He stalked forward. Enjoyed for a moment the way the crowd jumped away from him.
The vampire began to shake. Perfect.
Niol stopped a foot before the fallen André. “First,” he growled, “don’t ever, ever fucking tell me what to do in my bar again.”
A fast nod.
“Second…” His hands clenched into fists as he fought to rein in the magic blasting through him. The power…oh, but it was tempting. And so easy to use.
Too easy.
One more thought, just one, focused and hard, and he could have the vamp dead at his feet.
“Use too much, you’ll lose yourself.” An old warning. One that had come too late for him. He’d been twenty-five before he met another demon who even came close to him in power and that guy’s warning—well, it had been long overdue.
Niol knew he’d been one of the Lost for years.
The first time he’d killed, he’d been Lost.
“Second,” he repeated, his voice cold, clear, and cutting like a knife in the quiet. “If you think I give a damn about the vampires coming to my place…” His mouth hitched into a half-grin, but Niol knew no amusement would show in the darkness of his eyes. “Then you’re dead wrong, vampire.”
“S-sorry, Niol, I—”
He laughed. Then turned his back on the cringing vampire. “Thomas.” The guard he always kept close. “Throw that vamp’s ass out.”
When Thomas stepped forward, the squeal of a guitar ripped through the bar. And the dancing and the drinking and the mating games of the Other began with a fierce rumble of sound.
Niol’s gaze searched for his prey and he found Holly watching him. All eyes and red hair and lips that begged for his mouth. He strode toward her, conscious of covert stares still on them. He could show no weakness. Never could.
I’m not weak.
He was the strongest demon in Atlanta. He sure wasn’t going to give the paranormals any cause to start doubting his power.
His kind turned on the weak.
When he stopped before her, the scent of lavender flooded his nostrils.
She looked up at him. The human was small, to him anyway, barely reaching his shoulders so that he towered over her.
She was the weak one. All of her kind were.
Humans. So easy to wound. To kill.
He lifted his hand. Stroked her cheek. Damn, but she was soft. Leaning close, Niol told her, “Sweetheart, I warned you before about coming to my Paradise.”
There was no doubt others overheard his words. With so many shifters skulking around the joint, a whisper would have been overheard. Shifters and their annoyingly superior senses.
“Wh-what do you mean?” The question came, husky and soft. Ah, but he liked her voice. He could all too easily imagine that voice, whispering to him as they lay amid a tangle of sheets.
Or maybe screaming in his ear as she came.
He cupped her chin in his hand. A nice chin. Softly rounded. And those lips…the bottom was fuller than the top. Just a bit. So red. Her mouth was slightly parted, open.
Waiting.
She stepped back, shaking her head. “I don’t
