Page 75 of Vampire's Choice

“Easy enough to fix.”

Parva seized one side of her, Trinidad the other, and before she could orient herself for a decent defense, they were outside a shed in a junkyard. She could hear the riverfront beyond the high fence. Vertigo from the launch over the fence hit her on the back end, but she wrenched away from them, her knives out, and took a fight stance. “You’re making a mistake.”

“The fledgling has some spirit,” Trinidad observed. “I like that. But if you weren’t strong enough to be on your own, you shouldn’t have been. Maybe we teach you that lesson and Yvette realizes the mistake in hiring you.”

Parva lifted a brow. “Want to cry? Want to whine about why everyone won’t leave you alone?”

“That’s Lady Yvette to you. And no,” Ruth said, though the ache in her throat was pricked by the pathetic thought. Which made her angry enough to tighten her grip on the knives. “I want you to cry. If I mess up that pretentious outfit you’re trying to pull off, that’s just a bonus.”

Parva’s eyes narrowed, and she was in motion. Ruth ducked left and took a glancing hit on the shoulder as Parva grabbed for her and missed. She jammed the knife into the vampire’s side as she passed. Ruth moved with her, using Parva’s momentum, the howl of pain, as fuel to spin and kick at Trinidad as he closed in. He took the blow rather than dodging it, which thwarted her next move.

He struck her in the face, snapping her head back and putting her on her ass. If she’d been human, the blow would have broken her neck. One of the knives clattered away. The other was still in her fist, and when he swooped in, she went full-on blitz, slashing before her, catching his shirt front, a portion of chest, and twisting upward, aiming for the throat.

Against a comparable opponent, one who wanted to test themselves against her, she could have gained herself more time. But Trinidad fought her the way a vampire who’d gauged the strength of his opponent fought. Like he was fighting a child, shoving into her, knocking her off balance, disarming her because he had the superior speed and strength to do just that.

Parva, the less experienced fighter, had been more concerned about Ruth’s sparring abilities. Trinidad wasn’t.

As Ruth scrambled across the floor, she noted they had two humans here. They were sprawled in a near unconscious state, next to a table bearing a tin can of wildflowers and an open bottle of wine. Parva and Trinidad had had a romantic dinner. The humans were like dishes knocked to the floor after the meal had been eaten.

Ruth closed her hand on her knife, even as her cold gut told her Trinidad had waited for her to grab it. He kicked the weapon out of her hand to prove the point.

He retrieved it and was back beside her in a blink. When he grabbed a handful of her hair, Ruth shoved at him, rolled, kicked at his leg. His overconfidence and her training worked in her favor, because this time she was at the right angle. She made solid contact with his knee, cracking bone.

He let her go with a hiss, but plunged the knife toward her face. She ducked her head enough that it missed the vulnerable eye and jugular, but the blade scored her cheek and shoulder. Parva pounced on her, grabbing her from behind and arching Ruth back so forcefully, her spine complained. Ruth shoved backward and knocked them both to the ground, Ruth landing on top of Parva.

“Stop fucking fighting,” Trinidad snapped, tossing the knife on the table. “If you just give in, we can enjoy the evening and send you back to the Circus.”

“I was enjoying my evening before you arrived,” Ruth snarled. “I don’t care to enjoy it…with…you.”

Parva locked her arm around Ruth’s head. “Another move and I will break your neck,” she said. “You can lie here like a dead fish while we play. Like them.”

She turned Ruth toward the two humans, giving her a closer look. The couple were naked, enjoyed by the vampires sexually as well as for food, because vampires didn’t mind putting the two together when the opportunity presented itself. Though usually it was a one-on-one seduction, and the vampire left his or her meal with a hazy memory of pleasure, like a dream. No worse off than before.

There is an important difference between treating a random human source as a meal, and turning them into a victim. Though many vampires would not agree with me, the latter has a cost to your soul as well. We don’t have to be the monsters we are believed to be, but we are well capable of it.

Mal, teaching her how to find a blood source when she was away from the island and not somewhere like William and Matthew’s, where there were servants to provide sustenance.

The two vampires had overfed. Not fatally, but the humans would definitely be out of it for a while. When they shook off the compulsion, they’d believe they’d been mugged. And raped. The latter would be true. They’d tried to hold onto one another, their limp hands still loosely laced together. Their wedding bands matched. A married couple. She felt sick to her stomach.

“We don’t want to treat you like them. Don’t be a bitch. You’re pretty. We like you. We just want to play.”

Parva’s tone had become soothing, seductive. They wanted to prove they were in charge and could overpower her, but once she accepted that, they’d probably get along just fine. As long as she did what they wanted.

Almost every vampire in every territory faced such “games.” She’d been protected from them, but she knew they existed. What’s more, dealing with it, accepting it, was part of being an adult vampire, “independent” within that structure.

“I think we could keep her,” Trinidad said. “She’s so young. Why did her parents let her out of their sight? Maybe they didn’t want her.”

“That’s all right. We want her.” Parva wound Ruth’s dark straight hair around her fingers. Ruth had gone still, pretending that she was considering compliance—as she fought the chilling knowledge that it might have to move from pretense to reality. “If Yvette would let you go, you could become our pet. I could put you on a lovely little leash, get you a collar sewn in these beads you like. Oh, look at this.”

Ruth grabbed for it, but Parva had already snapped the cord of the medicine bag and was examining the beadwork. She shoved Ruth at Trinidad, and he held her as his companion tied the medicine bag around her own neck.

“No, it doesn’t go with the dress.” Parva took it back off and opened the bag, dumping the contents in her hands. Her nose wrinkled and she tossed the bits of fur and dirt away from her distastefully.

Ruth had cherished it since Kohana had died, feeling like it was infused with the spirit of the stern Sioux, everything she’d loved about him.

They were within arm’s reach of the table where Trinidad had left her knife. With a scream of rage, Ruth seized it and turned on him. She slashed the blade across his thigh, cutting through denim, flesh and the femoral artery. Blood spurted and gushed over his jeans. He cursed, letting her go to put his hands on the wound.

She didn’t try to get away. She was right on him, making him pedal back into the table. It scraped across the floor as he landed on it. When she stabbed his face, she hit an eye, rupturing it. Roaring in pain, he shoved her away and rolled to the floor, landing on the limp doll humans.