Dark Needs at Night's Edge

27

Bedlam broke out in seconds.

The fight spread like a wildfire on parched grass. Beings began to change, eyes turning color, demeanors altering utterly, weapons appearing from seemingly nowhere.

The delicate nymphs had somehow concealed daggers beneath those gauzelike skirts and brandished them with battle cries. In the distance, she saw Cade and Rydstrom wielding broadswords. The Sirenae fiddled with something on their voice boxes that allowed them to dispatch concentrated shrieks, dropping their foes to the ground with bleeding ears.

Néomi caught sight of Mari and Bowen hastening to her. "Stay there!" Mari cried.

"Oui," she said faintly. She was too shocked to move.

But then Mari got hit by a stray elbow, sending her flying. Bowen went savage, beginning to turn to his werewolf form. Néomi gasped. Terrifying. She was glad she'd been forgotten by the Lykae—until the frenzied crowd engulfed her.

How had she thought she could handle this? An accidental jab of an elbow wouldn't kill the immortal Mari, but Néomi might not survive it. Was this how she'd get capped? So soon?

She tried to duck and run but kept getting caught back up in the current of beings. Each surge pressed her ever closer to the fire. The band played on, seeming as oblivious as the Titanic's.

Then she saw him.

He was hard to miss as he charged for her, towering over others. He had dark sunglasses on, but she knew his eyes were fixed on her.

Without ever turning from her, he dropped any being in his direct path to her. She'd never seen anyone who could fight like him, so methodical but vicious—so practiced. His fangs were razor sharp, his neck and chest muscles straining.

If warriors fought back, he twisted necks and backhanded them, sending them flying. Thank God his hand had regenerated—

A fist struck him in the face with crushing force. His sunglasses went flying, but he didn't even pause in his pursuit.

Fierce immortal, with his jet black hair whipping over his cheek. She felt an untimely surge of pride that a male like him was coming for her.

He wants me. Those burning, blood-filled irises were locked on her. He was looking at her as if she was his, only his. He'd talked of having new vampire instincts, animal-like instincts. There was no mistaking what his eyes said...

Anyone who kept him from what was his would die.

Conrad couldn't risk tracing to her—she was a moving target in the fray. Can't take my eyes from her for a split second. Sprinting faster, fighting harder—

He suddenly stumbled, feeling as if a mine had just gone off under his feet. Righting himself, chin down, he charged for her once more.

Another explosion; he tripped forward, losing sight of her for a moment. What the fuck is happening?

His lips parted as he comprehended. Thunderous bomb blasts again and again.

Néomi... it's her.

A rhythm to the echoing boom—his... heartbeat. Conrad was hearing his heartbeat for the first time in three hundred years.

Mine! Even as he ran, Conrad felt a savage triumph. His lungs began to expand, waking. She was bringing him back to life. Just ten feet away from her, one more obstacle—

His body was tackled to the ground with the force of a freight train. Strong hands gripped him, hauling him to his feet. Two demons had him. Néomi was watching agape. Safe for now.

Weak... can't shake them off. Vulnerable for precious seconds while he transitioned. Can't break free.

"A red-eyed Fallen in New Orleans," Cadeon the Kingmaker said as he stalked in front of Conrad. "You're the one who drained the warlock dry?"

Conrad's chest heaved as he sucked in air. With each breath, his strength returned and then some. Power such as he'd never imagined began erupting throughout his body. "Be more specific, Cadeon," he sneered. "There were several."

"We've been looking for you, vampire." The demon's eyes turned wholly black, and his horns enlarged and straightened with menace. But he wouldn't completely hit a rage state.

Conrad heard Néomi murmur, "Mère de Dieu." And Cadeon wasn't even close to a full turning. Usually when one beheld this demonic sight, one was about to die. Yet Conrad was finally catching his breath, and his heart was thundering with readiness... .

He flung his arms out, hurling away the ones holding him. Then he lunged at Cadeon. He fixed his hands around the demon's throat, clenching with all his newly blooded strength.

Power roared through Conrad's veins. Red covered his vision. The need to drink and kill was undeniable. There was no going back from bloodlust—his brothers were wrong. He'd done evil; he always would. He slammed Cadeon to the ground, stunning him.

Conrad could smell the demon's blood, could hear his heart. More power, here for the taking. Instinct ruled him. He gripped Cadeon's forehead, yanking his head back to bare his neck.

Cadeon's skin began to darken to a deep red. His upper and lower fangs grew. The demon was finally turning, but it was too late... .

"Conrad, don't."

He glanced up to meet Néomi's wide-eyed gaze. Conrad knew exactly what he looked like to her, with his fangs dripping, his eyes glowing and frenzied as he craved blood. "Now you know what I am." He lowered his mouth to finish this.

"Now I know what you were. Conrad, please take me home."

The need to protect. He hesitated at the demon's neck. Stronger than the need to kill.

If you saw me in bloodlust, you'd think me a monster.

Conrad hadn't been exaggerating. If Néomi didn't know him, she would be terrified. But she did know him, and recognized that he'd restrained himself for her.

Here was Conrad at his most frightening, and all she felt for him was pride and tenderness—

Suddenly Cade took advantage, bashing his head against Conrad's so hard his skull had to be singing.

Then the other two demons were back, attacking him at once... .

Without her telekinesis, she was powerless to stop them. Others in the crowd had ceased their own sparring to watch this clash. They were abuzz that the fallen vampire wasn't drinking and that the rage demon hadn't turned fully.

As Rydstrom and four more rough-looking males closed in on the fight, he asked her, "You know this vampire?" Suddenly, the others with him had a sinister air, their eyes all turning black.

When they advanced, Néomi swallowed. "I... only s-socially."

"You're his Bride, aren't you?"

Am I his Bride? Whispers sounded all around her; beings scrutinized her with new interest. Why?

She retreated a few steps, and when Rydstrom's crew continued after her, she turned to Conrad. He was still contending with all three of his attackers. "Conrad!" she cried.

He was in front of her in an instant, arm shoved back to yank her into him. His body was a heated mass of muscle, his broad shoulders rising and falling with breaths—

Breaths?

She laid her ear against his back. His heart was pounding. I blooded him!

"A new liability, Wroth?" Cade asked, wiping his forearm over his bleeding face. "Introduce us to your Bride, then."

"If you think to harm her," Conrad grated, "then you invite your own end." He grasped her upper arm, pulling her beside him.

Néomi swallowed when some of the females gave her sympathetic looks. What do they know that I don't? What will he do to me?

This was an immortal assassin who'd just been denied a kill. Denied because of her. She could see a feral, possessive light to his eyes, along with a deep rage, as if not slaying those demons had taken something from him.

No one wanted to challenge him—a vampire protecting his Bride. He cupped his hand on the back of her neck in a show of possession for everyone to see. "Mine. And I protect what's mine."

Then... they disappeared.