Keystone (Crossbreed #1)(5)
“Ah, shit,” he said, realizing his folly. “You’re supposed to flare in a public place, Mage.”
“Don’t you think that’s an archaic tradition? Seems like I’m not the only one in here who forgot to flare and make their presence known.”
The pungent smell of bathroom soap hung heavy in the air as I rose to my feet to face this idiot. He looked like an out-of-shape mobster in a cheap black suit.
The Mage chewed on his bottom lip as if he couldn’t decide what to do with me. We were in a human club, and that complicated matters. There wasn’t much of a crowd, but I’m sure in that walnut head of his he was wondering if someone might be able to ID him if he left a corpse in the bathroom. Breed didn’t get involved with human law enforcement, and if he got arrested and his boss found out, he might leave him to rot in a human jail for the next twenty years before breaking him out.
With my shoulders squared, I stood with my weight forward, prepared to fight. “I don’t care about you or your boss, but you’re talking about killing humans, and that’s where it gets personal.”
He snorted. “You’re not even human. What the hell do you care what happens to these termites?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I used to be one? Their lives are short enough; what gives you the right to take it away?”
He smoothed back his stringy hair. “Immortality gives me the right. They’re nothing but parasites, destroying the planet and getting all the power. You’re obviously not old enough to appreciate how insulting it is to live like a cockroach beneath a weaker species.”
“Do you really want to start a war with a species that outnumbers us by the billions? We still haven’t won the war against fire ants.”
The door swung open and we both looked up as two girls breezed in with a jaunty step.
“Get out,” the Mage said. “I’m about to fuck my woman.”
Their eyes swung over to me in surprise.
I shrugged. “Don’t worry, we won’t be long. He never lasts for more than forty-five seconds.”
“Ugh,” one of them groaned as they turned to leave. “Let’s go check out that other place up the street.”
“You didn’t have to say that,” he growled.
Was this guy serious? “Didn’t mean to deflate your ego. I was just under the impression that you didn’t sleep with the parasites you were plotting to exterminate. But maybe you like sleeping with bedbugs.”
I should have moved sooner and put my back against a wall, but faster than a heartbeat, he flashed behind me and shoved me against the sink.
Flashing was a Mage skill I hadn’t acquired, and it made them impossible to catch. Once again, destiny screwed me over.
“Smartass,” he hissed in my ear. “Aren’t you going to beg for your life—for your virtue?”
“I’m just going to beg for you to eat a breath mint,” I ground out.
He kicked my legs open. “Beg.”
That was when I looked up at him in the mirror and flashed a smile, revealing my sharp fangs in the mirror’s reflection. “You first.”
When I caught his startled expression, I shoved back and spun around. His eyes were stupidly transfixed on my fangs, darting between them and my mismatched eyes. Before he could react, I kneed him in the groin.
No matter what his strengths were as a Mage, all men had balls.
He doubled over, grimacing and grunting out a few colorful words. He hunched his shoulders, making it impossible to get a good angle to bite his neck. Kneeing him in the head did the trick.
I dropped to my knees and drove my fangs into his jugular, but before I could draw blood, he punched me in the side three times and threw me off.
“I’m going to teach you some fucking manners,” he snarled, mashing my face against the cold, dirty tile.
I glanced up, my heart banging against my chest as I realized my dagger was out of reach. When he kicked me in the back, it nudged me a little closer to the stall. I crawled on my forearms, pushing back the pain and gathering up my energy.
He gripped my ankle, so I flipped onto my back, twisting my leg out of his grasp. Small spaces limited a Mage from flashing around much, which leveled the playing field since they had to rely on their fighting skills. And as I’d come to find out, not every immortal knew how to fight.
When he came at me, I kicked him in the head, and he fell onto his left side. Once he was down, I executed a maneuver and scissored my legs around his neck, my knees bent, exerting as much force as possible. Before he could throw a punch, I gripped his left arm in a tight lock and then angled my body so my head was out of reach.
He thrashed as I delivered enough force to cut off the circulation above his neck. His knee jerked out a few times, but he couldn’t see where my head was. Then he tried to get up, but he was losing strength with every passing second.
When his body went limp, I didn’t hesitate. I released my hold and fell over him, puncturing into his artery with my fangs and drawing out the blood before he knew what had hit him. After enough swallows, I licked his wound. My Vampire gifts allowed me to change the chemistry in my saliva at will so that I could seal up bite marks left behind on my victims.
I rose to my feet and staggered around him, my stomach churning as his blood made its way down. The thought of having to consume his Mage energy made me tremble with revulsion.