Free The Vampire King by Heather Killough-Walden

plainly.
    I don’t think so.
    A pulse of Roman’s power struck the man’s mind, and the newcomer stopped in his tracks, his expression at once going blank.
    Leave.
    The command was simple and effective. The man frowned, turned on his heel, and headed toward the coffee shop’s exit. Roman watched him retreat, thoughts of violence occupying a part of him where no such thoughts had been entertained for thousands of years.
    What’s wrong with me? he thought, turning back to watch his target as she slowly pulled a bite of cheesecake from her lucky fork.
    Beside them, a group of teenagers rattled on about some disgusting film in which all sorts of inhumane things were done to humane people. Roman would normally pay them no heed, but they were bothering Evie.
    She was turning him inside out and she hadn’t so much as made eye contact with him. Enough was enough. It was time young Evie met one of her dark heroes up close and personal.

 
    Chapter Six
    Charles placed his fingers to his lips thoughtfully. His light blue eyes threatened a glow. He was hungry, but it wasn’t serious yet, and he was pretty sure that he’d just located dinner.
    Her type was not his usual fare. When Offspring had to feed to obtain a victim’s last drop of blood, they were required by vampire law to go after people who were either doomed to die anyway or that deserved to do so and that no one would miss, such as the terminally ill and homeless. The Vampire King was far more powerful than most Offspring, and because of this, he could afford to be more choosy. D’Angelo regularly rid the world of criminals – rapists, murderers, psychopaths – and in doing so, also erased the memories of their existences from those who would otherwise care.
    Charles did not have the luxury of such powerful mind control. His killing meals were filthy, smelly, and used up. He was accustomed to picking off these victims quickly and efficiently and disposing of the bodies without giving it too much thought. Thinking about it made it worse. It was a necessity, tolerable at best.
    But Charles felt strange lately. Ever since he’d looked into Evelynne Farrow’s eyes and delved into her mind, he’d been on edge. Unsatisfied. She’d awakened something inside of him.
    It was not fortuitous. She was ultimately meant to die. Roman D’Angelo would fall in love, and then lose that which he cared for. It was retribution, cold and hard and merciless. There was no room for infatuation in Charles’ plan. Yet, it was happening all the same, it seemed.
    Now every time Charles thought of feeding, it was little Evie’s slim neck he imagined sinking his fangs into. The glimpse he’d had of her spirit only made him yearn to go deeper and find out more. He wanted to drink her in, both literally and figuratively. To the last drop.
    Charles watched his next mortal victim leave the university library. She was younger than Evie, a mere junior in college, but there was enough of a similarity there to pique Charles’ interest and hopefully at least temporarily quell his thirst. Charles was intrigued by the girl’s thick brown hair, not quite as lustrous as Evie’s, but close. She had brown eyes. They lacked the ring and flecks of gold, but again – they were close. And then there was the intelligence.
    Evie Farrow was a bright girl. She possessed the mental faculties to keep a vampire entertained for many, many years. In fact, he could see himself taking on the years with her at his side.
    It posed a possibility to Charles that he hadn’t previously considered. There were other ways to have his revenge. Evie might not have to die.
    Charles stood and made his way out of the library after his young mark. As he exited the building, the night moved in to welcome him, wrapping around him with friendly familiarity. He was Offspring; the night was his natural habitat, all daytime protective spells aside.
    With exceptional ease, Charles infiltrated the mind of the woman thirty paces ahead.