He took in the scene and smiled. Licking his fangs, he savored the final drops of blood.
“Well, that was rather impressive,” said a musical female voice at the front of the alley. “I don’t know how you managed to do that without getting any blood on yourself.”
Emery stiffened, his back straightening as he swung around. A snarl ripped through him, but he swallowed it when he saw who stood before him.
It washer. The vampire from Starlight Lake. He had no idea what she'd been doing there, nor did he know anything about her other than she was beautiful.
Long, chestnut hair hung in silky waves to her waist. Black hugged her curves. She was an average height, but her vampiric grace and the heeled boots she wore more than made up for that.
Emery wasn't in the habit of dreaming of other vampires. In fact, ever since his Making, he had lived a rather solitary life. Remaining on the outskirts of vampiric society suited him.
In his past mortal life, he'd been a librarian. Not anymore. He'd been Made against his will, in a time when such a thing wasn't punishable by law, and he’d lost control barely a year after that.
Fledglings were dangerous, and he'd just... slipped up.
A papercut. That was all it had taken. He'd been shelving ancient histories from the Rose Empire when the scent of blood had reached his nose.
One sniff, and he'd ripped through the necks of every patron and librarian unfortunate enough to be at the Ipothan Library that night. He'd bathed in their blood, and by the time the sun had risen, not a single person had been left alive in his wake.
After that, he'd left libraries behind for good. He’d never been able to pick up theBallad of the Light Elvesagain, even though it was his favorite of the famous four Rosarian ballads that had survived the passage of time. He didn't deserve to be around books or those who loved them.
Instead, after he killed his Maker for what they did to him, he devoted his time to cleaning up the streets of the Republic of Balance. Evil was everywhere, and there was no shortage of people for him to kill.
"You," he said, surprised at the gravelly tone of his voice. He should've been upset that the woman found him, but he wasn't. Instead, he was... intrigued.
The vampire from the lake didn’t look at him with fear or disgust, as most people did when they found Emery with bodies. Then came the screaming—he couldn’t leave witnesses, after all. Chancellor Bellamy Rose would be less than pleased if he knew a vampire was cleaning up the streets for him.
But this woman was different. Emery felt it deep within his soul. His dark shadows sang at the sight of her, and he knew she’d leave this alley alive.
Her eyes widened, and she moved towards him with immortal grace. She carefully avoided the blood, a feat in and of itself, and came closer.She drew her bottom lip through her teeth, exposing her fangs. “I… like your style.”
There wasn’t a trace of disgust or fear in her voice. No sign to indicate she was lying.
What were the chances she wasn’t horrified by the sight behind him? Emery glanced over his shoulder at the two men, verifying that they were, in fact, very dead.
No one, not even a near-immortal fae, could rise from what he’d inflicted upon them. There was a beauty in their deaths, he supposed. An artistry to the way their blood painted the bricks. “Thank you.”
“Were they causing you problems?” She sounded curious.
“They wanted to kill me.” Emery lifted a shoulder. “I just returned the favor.”
Killing was what he was good at. Everything else, the man he used to be, died when he was Made in that library.
“Good,” she breathed. “They sound like real bastards.”
There was barely a foot between them now. Emery’s heart, which usually remained slow and steady in his chest, beat faster. “They were.”
“I hate men like that,” she said. “I would’ve done the same thing.”
All the gods, that declaration sent a bolt of desire through Emery. He hadn’t felt anything like that in years. Emery wasn’t a monk by any means, but his feeding habits had remained purely platonic of late.
Life was growing tedious.
But now? Here? He was intrigued by the woman in front of him. It surprised him to realize he didn’t want to leave. It would be so easy to flap his wings and escape to his hideaway, to shower and rid himself of the dirt of this night, but he wanted to learn more about this woman.
“How did you find me?” he asked.
She tilted her head and studied him. The movement shifted her hair, exposing the long, pale column of her neck. A breeze blew by, bringing her lilac scent to his nose.