He could have just taken a dull knife and hacked into her heart. It would have hurt a lot less.
She glanced down at his shirt. Burned. Blackened. But his chest was unmarred. “What’s happening to you? To me?”
Looking up, she saw that his gaze held so many secrets. She was tired of secrets.
“You need to trust me,” he said.
Sabine didn’t answer.
“You trusted me to get you out of Genesis.”
Yes, she had. But it hadn’t exactly been as if she had tons of options then.
“Trust me now. Don’t run from me again. Stay with me. Let me help you.” His hands tightened on her waist. “The hunger, the bloodlust will hit you soon. If you’re not careful, the first time you feed, you may lose control. I’ve dealt with bloodlust longer than you can imagine. When it comes to being a vampire, I’m a f**king expert.”
Someone jostled her from behind. A mumbled sorry drifted to her even as Ryder snapped, “Watch it!”
She ignored the jostle. “I can’t talk about this, not here, not—”
He glanced away from her. Looked up the street. To the left. The right. Then his eyes narrowed. “I know a place.”
Uh, wasn’t that supposed to be her line?
But now he was leading and she was following and she was tired and . . . and a dull hunger was starting to gnaw at her. Blood? I don’t want blood. I don’t ever want to drink blood.
Then Ryder was pausing in front of a small bar, one with dark windows and throbbing music. Twisting letters said the place was called BRAN, and there was what looked like the top of a castle sketched beneath that name. A bouncer stood in front of the door, and the guy didn’t seem to be letting anyone in. He was a bear of a man, covered in tats and piercings, and he snarled at the folks dumb enough to head toward him.
Ryder headed right for him.
And, yes, the guy stopped snarling.
“We’re here for a drink,” Ryder said.
The bouncer cast a suspicious glance her way.
“We’re both here for the drink.” Ryder’s tone snapped now. Obviously he was getting annoyed.
Sabine shifted from her left foot to her right. The bar wasn’t on Bourbon Street. Technically it was off just one street to the side, but despite its close proximity to the infamous party street, Sabine had never been to that bar, not in all of her years in New Orleans. In fact, the place kind of looked like a hellhole. Not exactly inviting and—
The bouncer opened the door for them.
The interior was so dark. Too dark. She squinted.
“Give it a minute,” Ryder advised her. “Your eyes will adjust. You just aren’t used to your vamp senses yet.”
Um, okay. She blinked a few times. Then everything seemed to sharpen and brighten. She saw the tables. Men. Women.
Saw the bar.
Saw the . . . blood being served?
She grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his flesh. “How did you know?” The guy had just steered her right into a vampire bar.
He pried her nails out of his arm and led her across the room. “Because this place is mine.”
The bartender stiffened when she got a glimpse of Ryder’s face. She was fumbling now, hurriedly filling two glasses with red liquid, and she quickly put them in front of two empty seats at the bar. “S-sir . . .”
He nodded his thanks, but then waved her away.
Sabine’s gaze darted around the bar. “Are they all . . . ?”
“They’re just like us.”
There was a snap in his voice.
Not like me. She swallowed back the words. She hadn’t exactly gotten used to the whole I’m-a-vampire bit.
“H-how do they know to come here?” The place was a vamp bar. Got it. But did the vamps all spread some kind of secret code on the Internet? Telling each other where the blood bars were in the United States? “How did they know they could get blood here?” Because vamps were out of their closets—coffins—sure, but she’d never heard of a place like this. It sure hadn’t been featured on any news shows.
“The name told them what it was.”
Bran?
His fingers wrapped around the blood-filled glass, but he didn’t drink. “Don’t know much about Dracula, do you?”
Not exactly her area of expertise, no.
“Some folks believe that Dracula’s castle was originally called Bran’s Castle.” His lips quirked. “And that’s the name of this place, too.”
So he’d named his bar after Dracula’s house. Was that supposed to be some kind of in-vamp joke? No wonder the vamps were flocking inside.