Free Running in the Dark by Regan Summers Page A

opposite the vampiress, doing my best to appear relaxed.
    “You’ve been following me.”
    Her eyes widened a fraction, then she shrugged and looked away. “He said you might notice.”
    “It’s not nice to stalk.” I headed for the kitchen. “I’m free next Tuesday, if you’d like to come back then.”
    Malcolm had a lot of wine in the house. I’d never taken the time to inventory, but I was in the mood to start counting with a glass abacus. Soraya snatched the corkscrew when I reached for it, then leaned down. Orange smoke rolled through her dark eyes. “I don’t know what game you are playing with him, human, but you are free right now.”
    I crossed my arms. “I’m getting the feeling you don’t like me, vampire.”

Chapter Six
    I was wrong. She didn’t dislike me. She hated me.
    “I haven’t done anything,” I pleaded, swallowing hard when my stomach suggested throwing up as a course of action. “Or if I have, I’ll stop. I swear. Just please…no more.”
    “He wants you to be able to protect yourself. I am simply giving you the skills to fulfill his wishes.”
    “What’s with you guys, anyway? Where did you meet, some Big Fangsters Big Sisters program?”
    “He has not told you about me?” She sounded disappointed, which I found ridiculously satisfying. “You will have to ask him. It is not my place.”
    I rolled onto my back. Soraya’s boot had left a tread print on my gray T-shirt. “I think you broke my bladder.”
    “You are not broken. Up. Again. This time, do not come straight forward. That was a front kick. It uses your own momentum against you. When you face only one opponent, keep circling. Away from the dominant hand or weapon.”
    “What if they have a gun?” I made it to one knee, paused to wipe sweat from every pore on my face. If I weren’t already charged up from being with Malcolm, I would have been in a coma. We’d discovered that the longer I was in contact with him—close, physical contact being preferable for several reasons—the better my body was able to utilize the energy he gave off. All humans were able to do it to some extent, which explained why live-in feeders’ life expectancies didn’t change much despite being literally drained on a regular basis. Vampires mutate during the undeath process, and the power that sustains them after they rise also keeps their bodies from decaying. I tried not to think about it too much, because the idea that I was absorbing the energy he shed and using it to regenerate dying or damaged tissue more quickly was freaky. It was also pretty fucking handy.
    Soraya crouched in front of me. I flinched when she raised her hand, then realized she only held a bottle of water.
    We were in a warehouse, on a small patch of concrete near the entrance. The rest of it was paved in steel, from the floors to the walls to the weirdly cell-like rooms filling the remainder of the space. She’d tried to explain what they were for, and it came out sounding like a cube farm for vampires. Apparently they didn’t outsource things like money counting, and most communication was written by hand. I only saw the rush deliveries and packages sent from outside, but there was casual correspondence within the city, and some kind of newsletter. An old school printing press lurked like a metal praying mantis in the back.
    “We do not use guns. Slashing weapons to open veins, blunt instruments to crush bones. These things we prefer.”
    “Awesome.” I gulped water and it ran down my front. Maybe it would wash away some of my sweat and failure. We’d been going at it for less than a half hour and I was seriously considering quitting. Except that would mean she’d won, and I wasn’t that desperate yet.
    I made it to my feet, pressed a hand to my stomach and grimaced as I set the bottle on top of a crate. Soraya lifted my shirt and I tried to slap her hand off but missed. I couldn’t tell if she was that quick, or if I was that tapped.
    “I’d rather