Adrian Phoenix - In the Blood

“Yeah?” she whispered back.

“Yeah. Leash optional.”

Heather laughed, her embarrassment fading. She was grateful Dante hadn’t asked her to finish what she’d been about to say. Especially since she still didn’t know what she’d intended to say in the first place.

Dante lifted his head, his hands sliding away from her waist. He clasped her hand, his fingers folding through hers. He walked her and Annie backstage to the sparsely furnished greenroom. “C’mon, let me introduce you and Annie to the guys.” Sticking his index finger and thumb into the corners of his mouth, he whistled—sharp and loud. All activity in the greenroom stopped. All faces looked in his direction.

“Everyone, this is Heather,” Dante said, inclining his head toward her, “and her sister, Annie.” He draped an arm around Annie’s shoulders.

People nodded, smiled, waved and yelled “Hey!”

Dante directed Heather’s attention to the easy chair and the person just rising from its sagging depths. “This is mon cher ami Eli,” he said, his voice warm and low and affectionate. “We’ve been making music together for…how long?”

“Almost five years, Tee-Tee,” Eli said. He was a blend of bloodlines. Café au lait skin, almond-shaped jade-green eyes, tall and rangy, mid-to-late twenties.

“And over there in front of the mirror,” Dante said, “is Black Bayou Jack. A helluva drummer. Kicks fucking ass.”

Jack grinned. “A pleasure, m’selles, for true.” His Cajun-musical tone marked him as another Louisiana native. His faux hawk had been transformed into a braided horse mane, the dark blond hair buzzed short at sides and back, the braids dyed deep cherry red. Black-ink stylized tattoos twisted around his neck and muscular arms.

“And over there, twitching to go out and triple-check the fucking equipment, is Antoine, the man who puts the funk and the sex into the bass.”

“Hey,” Antoine murmured, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Also in his mid-to-late twenties; dark brown skin, toffee-colored eyes. Topped by a sexy, untrimmed and natural ’fro, the last member of Inferno was clearly itching to get away.

Dante jerked his head toward the curtains and, flashing a smile, Antoine disappeared behind their thick velvet folds.

“Gonna go make sure things are set up right,” Dante said, squeezing, then releasing Heather’s hand. His breath caught. He touched his fingers to his temple.

Panic burned through Heather when she saw his eyes dilate. She reached for his hand, but he backed quickly out of reach. “You’re hurting,” she said.

He shrugged. “No big. See you soon, chérie .”

But Heather saw his jaw tighten as he turned away. She looked at Von, but the nomad’s attention was already fixed on him, brow furrowed. Dante slipped past the curtains and out of sight.

“Simone said his migraines were getting worse,” Heather said.

“Ain’t the half of it,” Von said, voice low. “He’s been having seizures, too.”

“Seizures?” Heather suddenly felt cold.

“Keep it quiet for now, doll,” Von said.

“He shouldn’t be going onstage.”

Von snorted. “ You tell him that.”

“I will.” Heather turned and started for the curtain. Fingers latched around her arm. She jerked, but the fingers still held. She looked up into Von’s serious face.

“Let him be,” he said. “Now’s not the time. You understand? Not now.”

Heather paused, then nodded. “Okay. Not now.” Von released her arm. She held his gaze. “But he needs help. He can’t heal if he refuses to admit he’s hurting. And I don’t think he can heal alone.”

Von nodded. “That’s the fucking truth. What happened between you two, anyway? He’s never said.”

Heather hesitated, mingled regret and uncertainty pricking her heart. She drew a breath and said, “I saw him unmake a woman.” Understanding flickered in Von’s eyes. “He saved my life and I’ll always love him for that alone, but…what do you know about True Blood?”

“Just a little,” Von admitted. “I’ve only been nightkind for forty years and I ain’t heard much because born vampires are fucking rare. I know they’re supposed to be powerful and light-speed fast and brimming with magic. Hell, just take a look at Dante.”

“Do the nomad clans know about vampires?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Von said. “But the clans see True Bloods as night elementals; y’know, as Nature’s voice, avatars of the night.” He shook his head. “But since Dante’s also Fallen, he’s something else altogether.” He hesitated for a moment like he was about to say something more, but he shook his head again instead.

Heather had known that the nomad clans were mostly pagan, holding to ancient nature rites and worship, but she hadn’t realized nightkind—vampires—were a part of the nomad belief system.

We’re a part of the natural world .

“C’mon, let’s get you and your lovely sister set up to enjoy the show.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” She glanced over her shoulder, and stiffened when she saw who Annie was talking to.

Midnite Purple dyed hair gelled to maximum bedhead effect, his lean frame draped in black jeans, biker boots, a vintage TV ON THE RADIO tee, and looking no older than sixteen, Silver smiled a fanged smile and chatted with Annie.

Annie shifted her weight to the ball of her foot and pivoted one shapely and booted leg back and forth while her fingers plucked at the edges of her short crinoline skirts. Her gaze was bewitched and dazzled, her blue eyes gleaming with desire.

“What’s he doing here?” Heather asked. She’d never gotten a good handle on the enigmatic vampire while in New Orleans, had bristled at his knowing smiles.

“Silver’s under Dante’s tutelage,” Von said with a shrug. “An exchange student kinda thing among nightkind. Anyway, since Dante’s responsible for him, he couldn’t leave him in New Orleans.”

“Ah, I see,” Heather murmured. “Well, I don’t want him messing with Annie.”

A puzzled smile quirked at one corner of Von’s mouth. “Funny. She looks old enough to make her own decisions, doll.”

Ignoring Von’s comment, Heather joined Annie and Silver, wedging her body between them. “This is my sister,” Heather said to Silver, holding his gleaming silver gaze. His amused silver gaze. “Hands off. Got it?”

“Butt out,” Annie said, her voice low and tight. “I’m twenty-fucking-six years old and more than capable of running my own life.”

“Really? Since when?”

Silver opened his mouth to say something, then glanced in Von’s direction and closed it again. Shrugging, he walked away.

Heather grabbed her sister’s hand. Annie yanked free. “Quit treating me like a baby!” she yelled. Fire burned in her eyes. “I’m bipolar, not retarded!”

“I’m not treating you like a baby,” Heather said, struggling to keep her voice level. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d quit acting like one. Silver’s nightkind. I’m just looking out for you.”

“Really? Is this another guy you’re not dating, but want to keep for yourself?”

“No!”

“Oh. Okay. So only you can date nightkind? Is that it, Ms. I Have Everything?”

“Annie, no—”

“Well, y’know what? Fuck you!” Annie whirled and dashed past the curtains.