Free Blood Legacy by Vanessa Redmoon Page A

artery. Even if they only drew the legally allowed amount that could be taken from a Donor at any one time—one pint—it would be too late for me. The first strain of the Vampyr toxin would enter my blood stream, weakening my muscles and organs, feasting on my brain cells, and sapping away my life. Each subsequent feeding would strengthen the toxin’s effects, but just one dose was enough to start the deterioration. I’d lose my appetite, my cognizance, my energy, my will to live. Like all the other Donors on their leashes and their velvet thrones, I’d be nothing but a hollowed-out shell. A warm holding vessel for blood. And then, in time, I’d be nothing at all.
    “Bernard. Samson. Might I ask just what you think you’re doing?” The voice, acidic and harsh, came from the darkness. “Because I’m quite certain no member of the Stregazzi Family would disobey my direct orders.”
    Bernard and Samson Stregazzi eased their grips on me and I slumped to the base of the wall. Fear had sapped all my strength. My fingers darted along my neck, but I could find no puncture wound, no trace of any kind of breach. I could have sworn they’d had me pressed there for minutes, but it must have been only seconds.
    “We were just getting your agonie nice and tender for you and our sister, Vic. No need to get your trousers in a twist.”
    “If I wish for your assistance,” Victor said, “I’ll ask for it.” His tone left no doubt he wouldn’t be calling on their assistance anytime soon.
    “Fine, take all the fun out of it for us grunts.” The other man sighed. “You want me to go get Violetta? The least you can do is let us watch—”
    “You will not fetch Violetta. And you will certainly not stay in my sight for a second longer, if you care to hold your posts at the Stream offices.” Victor’s upper lip curled back in a snarl. “I’m sure the Stream would be better off without you two clotting it up anyway—”
    “Okay, whatever, you’ve made your point.”
    “She’s too skinny for our tastes, anyway.”
    The second man agreed, making some sort of lewd groping gesture. “I like a drink with a bit of meat on it, you know? More padding for the drinking.”
    The first man clapped his coconspirator on the shoulder. “C’mon, Sam, the next show’s about to start.”
    The audience inside the exhibition hall gasped as the lights focused on a new glass box, but I was busy staring at Victor Bressov’s shoes, shined to a mirror-like finish. He’d just spared me from the Vampyr toxin, to be sure, but what of the other things those Stregazzi creeps said? About Violetta knowing all about me, and her plans for me . . .
    Victor held a hand out for me. “I’m terribly sorry for that. Rest assured, it won’t happen again.”
    I had my doubts about that—being a human amongst Vampyrs in this kind of setting, I was quickly learning, was like being a rabbit amongst wolves—but I took his hand. His skin was surprisingly soft, and as he pulled me to my feet, we came face to face, noses nearly touching thanks to my high heels. I sucked in my breath at the sight of him. His dark, wavy hair was combed back, but not so much that it couldn’t make a gentle curl around his temples; his cool eyes glinted with the dim lighting. And as soon as our eyes met, a smile danced along those beautiful lips.
    “You’re not hurt?” he asked. His fingers stayed curled around mine, and I was in no hurry to let go.
    “I’ll be all right.” I swallowed hard, then finally released his hand to tug awkwardly at the skirt of my dress. “Thank you for the invitation, and this lovely gown.”
    “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?” Victor asked.
    I chuckled and forced myself to break eye contact. God, it was hard to talk to him when he was looking at me that way. Not like a meal, but like a person—a real person, one who fascinated him. “But . . .” I smiled sadly. “But I don’t think this was a good idea. I really don’t belong