First Drop of Crimson (Night Huntress World #1)(12)
Author: Jeaniene Frost

"I’m staying."

He drew back to see her face. She was still very pale and her fingernails dug grooves into her leg, but her voice had been hard.

"That might not be wise…"

"If I feel a freak-out coming on, I’ll leave, but until then, I’m staying."

Stubborn woman. Did no one have any sense tonight?

Spade rose, giving a sharp look to Alten. "If she wants to leave, take her to the car and wait for me there."

Alten quickly masked his surprise with a nod. People didn’t decide to get up and leave in the middle of a duel. Especially not property. "As you wish."

If he was being logical, he’d have Alten take Denise to the car now. Instead he was inviting more speculation about Denise, both by seating her at his right and by letting her argue with him publicly. No one has any sense tonight, Spade thought jadedly. Least of all me.

He shoved that thought aside and settled his attention on Turner. He’d have to make an example out of him, else he’d be flooded with challenges from other young vampires thinking they were ready for what they couldn’t handle.

Spade pulled off his shirt and set it on his chair, not taking his eyes off Turner. "Withdraw your challenge, or you’ll be lucky if I let you live."

Turner shook his head. "No."

So be it, then.

Chapter Six

Denise couldn’t tear her eyes away from the two vampires circling each other, even though her common sense screamed at her not to watch. She and Alten were still seated at the table, but everyone else hung back by the walls, giving Spade and Turner the majority of the room for their imminent fight. The ballroom doors were guarded and the catering staff quickly green-eyed into not noticing the abrupt change in the party atmosphere. Even being in a public hotel wouldn’t stop this duel from happening. To make matters worse, Spade was weaponless while Turner had a large silver knife.

She leaned across the empty seat toward Alten. "Why isn’t Spade allowed to have a weapon?" she whispered.

The vampire looked startled that she’d spoken to him, but he replied in a low voice, "He’s allowed. He’s just choosing not to use one."

"Why?" Denise blurted.

Dozens of heads swung her way. Even Spade paused in his predatory stride to throw her a single glare that spoke volumes.

Right. Guess it wasn’t appropriate "property" behavior for her to wonder why Spade would fight unarmed against a vampire who had a big damn knife!

Something blurred, then a red slash appeared under Spade’s chest. Somehow, the two vampires were now several feet away from where they’d been an instant ago and Turner’s knife had a smear of red on it. Denise fought back a gasp. He’d slashed Spade too quickly for her to see it.

"Forfeit the duel and give me my freedom," Turner said, waving the knife while he began to circle again.

Spade laughed, a cold sound that was more scary than amused. "That was your best chance to kill me, but you missed it. How long do you think you’ll be able to hold on to that knife until I take it from you?"

The wound on Spade’s chest closed before he was finished speaking, but the smear remained. It was so vivid against the pale, muscled smoothness of his skin. Like scarlet against snow. Spade’s eyes glowed with green fire, meeting Turner’s equally bright gaze.

Denise couldn’t stop the flood of mental images. Glowing green eyes burning through the waning light. Vampires everywhere, blood and dirt spattering them. She slipped, landing in something dark and sticky. The stain coated the floor, widening as it led to the kitchen…

"No," she whispered, pushing at the memories. Not now. Not here.

Alten looked at her sharply, but this time, Spade didn’t deviate his attention from Turner. Another blur of limbs ended with Turner thrown onto his back, Spade standing over him holding that silver knife.

"Lose something?" Spade asked, wiggling it.

Turner had blood on him now, too, in a red X on his chest that remained even as his cuts healed. The X was directly over where his heart would be. Denise shuddered. The warning couldn’t be clearer.

The memories continued to push as her. Blood looks different in the dark. Almost black. Green light from a passing vampire’s gaze shone on the large, misshapen lumps in front of her. What were those?

Her hands went to her head, pressing against her temples as if she could physically force the memories back. Not. Now.

Turner lunged, nothing more than a pale streak of movement to her eyes. Spade whirled, more red appearing on Turner as if by magic. Another rush of flesh, a cry, and Turner stumbled back, clutching his stomach. Something thick and wet hit the floor.

Denise wound her hands in Spade’s discarded shirt to keep from screaming and bolting out of her chair. Spade’s whole hand and wrist were red, not to mention the knife, but he stood there almost casually, waiting while Turner gasped in pain, bent over.

"Hurts quite a bit, doesn’t it?" Spade asked. "It’s one thing to get cut up in a brawl, but another to have your guts spilled out of you. Have to be very strong to fight through that sort of pain. You’re not nearly strong enough, but you want to be Master of your own line?"

"No one’s…strong enough," Turner got out, straightening at last. His stomach was healed, but it had taken several seconds. Long enough for Spade to have killed him multiple times over, if he’d wanted to.

Spade’s brow arched. "Is that so?" He tossed the knife at Turner’s feet. "Strike the same blow, and if you can land that blade through my heart before I’ve recovered from it, you win your freedom."

Denise sucked in a horrified breath. Was Spade crazy? Why wasn’t anyone else speaking up about what an insane suggestion that was?

Turner’s blond head seemed to merge with Spade’s black one as he leapt at him in a flurry of movement. For a few frenzied moments, their bodies were a crystal-and-red splattered whir, until Turner fell back with the knife’s hilt buried in his chest where the red X had been. Spade stood over him, one hand across his stomach, something red and squishy-looking near his feet.

"Yield, or I’ll twist that knife," Spade said darkly.

Turner looked at the blade sticking out of his chest and then his head flopped back. "I withdraw my challenge," he rasped.

Denise felt an instant of overwhelming relief. Then she threw up into Spade’s designer shirt.

Spade slid into the car, his coat the only thing on over his pants. Denise was waiting in the passenger seat, looking like she wished the ground would swallow her.

"I’m so sorry, I’ll have your shirt dry cleaned," she said as soon as he shut the door.

He let out a short laugh. "That’s quite all right. I threw it away."