Free Bitter Blood by Rachel Caine

and his eyes were flaring crimson, and he gave off waves of menace that made her slow down and look at Michael in alarm.
    Because that menace wasn’t (for a change) aimed at her.
    It was directed purely at her friend.
    “You’re not welcome here,” the vampire said in a low, silky voice that was somehow worse than a growl. “Those who consort with humans use the servants’ entrance.”
    “Ignore him,” Michael said to her, and kept going. “Henrik’s not going to hurt you.”
    “What’s this one? Another little wife-pet you’re planning to marry when you tire of the one you have?” Henrik’s grin was full of cruel amusement. “Or won’t you bother with the church’s blessing next time? It’s perfectly fine to eat them, you know. You don’t need to sanctify them first. They still taste delicious.”
    Michael’s eyes fixed on the other vampire, and his own eyes started turning red. Claire saw his hands flexing, trying to knot into fists. “Shut up,” he said. “Claire, keep walking. He’ll move.”
    This time there was something like a growl, or a rattling hiss, and Henrik’s eyes turned even darker red. “Will I? Not for you, boy. Certainly not for your pet.”
    Claire kept walking, but she also reached into her pocket and pulled out a small glass vial. It had an easy-open pop-top, and she flicked it with her thumbnail, never taking her eyes off Henrik. “I’m not a pet,” she said. “And I bite.” She held up the vial. “Silver nitrate. Unless you want to spend a couple of hours nursing your burns, back off. We’re here to see Amelie, not you.”
    His eyes fixed on her for the first time, and she felt a shock of fear; there was something really violent inside him, something she could only barely understand. It was a blind, unreasoning instinct to hurt—to kill.
    But his teeth folded up into his mouth, like a snake’s, and his smile took on more human proportions…though it remained intimidating. Serial-killer intimidating. “By all means,” he said. “Pass. I’m sure we’ll meet again, flower.”
    He made an elaborate bow and retreated into the shadows. Claire kept her eyes on him as she edged through, but he didn’t move at all.
    When Michael followed, though, there was a sudden burst of movement, a blur punctuated by a soft outcry from Michael…and then the other vamp was walking calmly away in the other direction.
    “Michael?” Claire turned toward him, crying out when she saw the damage to his face. The blood was bad, but it was flowing from claw marks down the side of his face from temple to jawline. They were deep gouges—nothing that wouldn’t heal, but still…
    Michael stumbled and caught himself against the wall, shut his eyes, and said, “Maybe you’d better go on without me. I’m going to need a minute.” His voice was shaking, both from pain and—she assumed—from shock. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
    “I know.” Claire put away the silver nitrate and rummaged in her pockets, coming up with a pack of tissues, which she handed over. “Here.”
    He looked at her, gave her a weak flash of a smile, and took the packet from her. One after another, the tissues soaked red, but each successive one did so more slowly. By the time he’d used most of them, the wounds were sealed over—gruesome still, but steadily better.
    “This isn’t the first time, is it?” she asked. “You were expecting this. I could see how tense you were. It’s about your marrying Eve. They’re bullying you because of it.”
    Michael shrugged and scrubbed the last of the damp stains off his skin. “We all knew how they felt about it. Pretty much like Captain Obvious and his crew of humans-only believers feel, too. Everybody sees us as traitors to whatever their cause is.”
    “That’s stupid. You two—you’ve been together for years!”
    “Not
married
together. They’re funny about that. In vampire circles, marrying someone is a huge deal…vampires being immortal and all. It