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

wavered between anxiety and confusion as he continued in an unrecognizable accent.  
    “Furthermore, unless I’m mistaken—and I am never mistaken in such matters—you’ve had some adventures recently. You naughty, naughty, naughty girl.”
    He left no room to misinterpret the way he’d said ‘naughty’, even if he hadn’t tapped his fingertip to my nose for emphasis each time he said it. It made me long for Eggplant, who probably would’ve ripped my throat open and called it a day. But no, instead of dying with dignity, I was stuck with a condescending vampire pervert. Great.
    Granted, I was still alive and after a few more annoyed moments over his ‘naughty’ comment, I wondered what the holdup was. He was studying me like there’d be a quiz later—inexplicable behavior unless he truly believed he knew me.
    And if a case of mistaken identity could keep me alive…
    I hid my trembling hands in my pockets and attempted a regretful expression. “I’m sorry if I’ve forgotten you. Maybe you could refresh my memory as to where we met?” Whatever he said, I’d agree and bluff my way through the best I could.
    The vampire assumed a pained expression, like I’d contrived this scenario wholly to inconvenience him. “I didn’t say we’d met, I said I knew you.” He reached down and swiped a finger through the blood on my cheek, holding it in front of my nose. I half thought he expected me to lick his finger until I stopped staring at his hand—it’s surprisingly hard to ignore your own blood on someone’s fingers—and studied his face.
    I recognized a man who believed he was making sense when I saw one. He didn’t want me to taste my blood—he was offering it as an explanation. And that meant…
    “Good lord, wouldn’t it have been easier to identify yourself as my patron?” Talk about cryptic explanations! Still, I wanted to laugh in giddy relief. My odds of staying alive had dramatically increased. If any vampire had a reason to spare my life it was this one. 
    Oddly enough, my embarrassment almost eclipsed the relief I felt at this turn of events. I couldn’t believe this creature could detect a difference in my blood after one night fooling around with Nicky. Apparently Nicky hadn’t exaggerated their sensitivity.
    Holy shit! Nicky!
    Dismissing my patron’s acknowledgment of my recent sexual exploration, I sprang up, shoving the vampire aside and sprinting into the living room. I’d never flatter myself to think I could outrun a vampire, but my actions took him by surprise.  
    I skidded to a stop behind the sofa and felt my breath seize in my chest. A pool of blood spread a few yards from the front entrance, along with a single bloody footprint from Eggplant’s pointy-toed, high-heeled boots.
    I’d barely stepped toward the door when my patron’s arm locked around my waist and thrust me behind him. He looked at the bloody floor and then back at me, repeating both actions before stating the obvious.
    “Your injuries are insignificant. Who else was here?” He’d gone rigid again.
    Under other circumstances I might have protested his use of ‘insignificant,’ but I couldn’t stop staring at the blood. I had to swallow before I could speak. “Dominic Carriero, Luigi Carriero’s son and partner. He brought me here. The Eggplant vampire, she had him in her arms and, and—”
    He was gone the instant I realized he was moving. 
    Stupefied, I stood in the middle of the room for a minute or two until he reappeared as though he’d never left. I was too drained to do more than stare. 
    “Whoever she was, she had a motor bike outside. After you screamed, I entered through the secured door behind us.” He pointed. “I saw the sealed bedroom and went directly there. The, ah… eggplant… left with young Mr. Carriero via the front door. The scent of the bike ends at the nearest highway, and I can only speculate she stashed it inside a larger vehicle and drove away.”
    My brain