Free Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1) by J S Hazzard Page A

and struggled to catch my breath.
    I had no clue how Eggplant had entered—maybe she knew Ms. Parkes?—but the invitation rule was clear. This bedroom was intended as guest lodging and we’d claimed it for the night. Unless Nicky had been whammied into an invitation we’d be safe. 
    My shaky smile turned to glazed shock as I turned to ask what the hell had happened. I’d been certain he’d moved—I’d had a clear view behind the sofa—but nonetheless, I was alone in the bedroom.
    Nicky was still out there.

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
     
    STILL panting, I scanned the room repeatedly like he’d magically reappear. When the pounding on the door began, it seemed unimportant in comparison. I barely managed mild interest as the metal deadbolt tore a chunk of concrete from the wall beside me. Then I took an unexpected flight as the door slammed into me, answering my invitation question.
    As I collided with the wall, gravity reasserted itself and I crumpled to the floor, stunned. Just as quickly, I was hauled upright and slammed back against the wall, my toes barely brushing the floor.
    It seemed crucial to notice everything in my last moments, but that wasn’t easily done. Between the unfamiliar room and the shock—not to mention the pain from girl meets concrete—I felt disoriented. I also had a terrified moment where I thought I’d gone blind in one eye, but a few blinks reassured me I was simply bleeding from a cut along my hairline.
    It almost made me laugh. You know your day officially sucks when bleeding into an eyeball counts as good news.
    The vampire had me by the throat and held me with a single white hand, despite my best efforts. The few blows I managed to land were as effective as slapping stone and once I met his eyes I was unable to do even that.
    Wait.
    His eyes?
    I sucked in as much oxygen as his grip allowed me, and the fog in my brain cleared enough for me to realize this wasn’t the vampire who’d attacked Nicky—if attacked was even the word. This vampire was less flamboyant, wearing black corduroy slacks and an ivory sweater. His feet were bare and he had skin even paler than mine, with black hair and green eyes.
    No streaks in the hair, but tiny flecks of gold in the eyes.
    Feeling more like myself I gave him the dirtiest look I could—the only show of defiance I was capable of. The heat in my eyes only amused him but if I had to die, it wouldn’t be while staring at the floor. My pride was small consolation compared to my life, but I recognized it as the only thing I might be capable of saving.
    The gash on my scalp kept bleeding, as scalp wounds do. Blood ran down my chin, dripping onto the vampire’s hand where it remained locked around my throat. His pallor made my blood look even redder and I pettily hoped he didn’t recognize it as the ‘exquisite vintage’ I’d heard it was. Damned if I wanted him to savor this.
    Then my blood trickled down his forearm and his nostrils flared in a bewildered expression. In a lightning quick movement, he released my throat and I staggered before collapsing to the floor. 
    “I know you.”
    My neck and throat throbbed from their use as a human handle but I was coherent enough to know the vampire could have killed me. I’d seen him rip a steel bolt through a concrete wall. (Okay, technically I hadn’t seen it, but I felt confident he was responsible.) My neck was far flimsier than the door and yet I was still breathing. For the moment.
    With no thought to maintaining that status, I automatically reverted to my favored defense mechanism. Sarcasm. “Nope, sorry. I’d remember if we’d been introduced—you make a unique first impression.”
    The vampire blinked at my impertinent denial. Then he raised his wrist to his mouth and licked it clean, giving a small shudder of pleasure as he did. (Okay, ick!)
    “I can promise I most certainly know you.” He sounded almost playful, an abrupt change from the fang baring chokehold of a few moments ago. I