Free Enemy Within (Vampire Born Trilogy, #2) by Angeline Kace Page A

tongue and a dance of ecstasy transfers between us.
    Her breathing increases and her blood pumps faster into my mouth.
    I jerk away before I get to the fourth swallow.
    Holy shit, that’s intense.
    Possession unlike anything I’ve ever felt takes hold. I can’t bear her sharing this with someone else. I told her it will be different with Mrs. Tomic, and it will, but I still resent it.
    Yet, her life depends on this arrangement, so I put on my commander’s face and lick the wound until it stops bleeding. I zip up her dress and turn her around by her shoulders.
    She faces me, her mouth gaping open. Her eyes reflect how I feel inside.
    “The bite, the moment when my fangs broke your skin, that’s the only part that will be the same.”
    Her tangy fluid lingers on my tongue and in my throat, and I regret ever pulling away from her.
    Confirmation: definitely addicted.
    She nods. “I . . . Mirko . . . that was incredible. I wasn’t anywhere near that controlled or delicate when I bit you.”
    “It takes practice.” Something we’ll not be afforded. I would love for her to stay and watch me get dressed, but her mom will come searching for her soon. “Will you tell your mom I’ll be down in a moment?”
    She leaves, and it takes everything I have to regain control.
    ***
    When the Tomics greet us at their front door, Mr. Tomic appears surprised to see me. “We knew you were bringing an escort, but we weren’t expecting a Zao Duh.”
    He doesn’t so much as greet me before saying something degrading. This is why I try to stay lighthearted about life. There’s a lot I can dwell on: a stronger race who thinks less of me and mine, their racism, and everything else unbalanced in our world.
    Brooke picks up on it. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t trust anyone else to come with me.”
    I delight in her bold reply, but at the same time silently urge her to tamp it down and not mess up the meeting.
    “I see. Come in, come in.”
    The white foyer is filled with the aroma of baked lamb. The high ceilings hold the cold air from our entrance and it flows back down over us as we follow Mr. Tomic down a pristine corridor, the clap of Brooke and her mom’s shoes echoing—of course, a Pijawika couldn’t live in anything average. It all has to be upscale and luxurious. At least if their dwelling is any indication of their worth, Brooke should be given a fair compensation for her service.
    Mr. Tomic stops a man in white who I assume is a member of the staff. “I need you to switch out one of the place settings on the lower end of the table to the third-tier china.”
    Even their china lets you know your placement in their world. It irks me, but I’m used to it.
    At least Brooke deserves as much in their eyes as to keep the second-tier china. The only ones who will eat off the first tier are the Tomics themselves. Everything with the Pijawikas is a power play to display their elevated status.
    When we reach the dining room, the staff is already scurrying to change out my dinnerware.
    Brooke looks at me with disgust when she realizes what Mr. Tomic meant about switching out the china.
    The staff takes away the beautiful white place settings with silver and gold woven into the porcelain and replaces them with smaller, bland ivory plates and drab silverware.
    Farther down on the table, the seats at the head are set up with polished gold knives, spoons, and forks, and the plates are larger and grander than all the rest. That is where Mr. and Mrs. Tomic will sit.
    I shake my head at Brooke, a silent warning for her to keep with the plan. We need the meeting to go as smoothly as possible, and my place settings aren’t worth giving up our only chance at keeping her alive.
    Brooke, her mom, and I stand at the table, all of us waiting until Mr. Tomic sits first and then Mrs. Tomic next.
    The staff brings out the soups and salads shortly after, and as Garwin described, the soup goes to the men, salads to the women. Brooke arches her lip when she