Fangs of Fate (Untish #1)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

TATE

Pressing through the veil was never pleasant. Today, in particular, the guara seemed to be enjoying themselves as it took all my strength to push through and then all my stealth to catch myself before careening into the ground. Jackasses. I looked up at the laughing guara, sneers on their faces, and flipped them the bird.

Straightening the strap to my tote bag, I headed for the Glenn’s headquarters. High Lordship Lee had a strict policy, first complete the blood drop then enjoy access to the rest of the Glenn. One of President Dale’s many annoying rules: feed others, then yourself. As if he lived by that standard. Prick.

Sauntering in, I squared my shoulders and moved past the main gate—fifty feet high and made of solid iron. It was an enormous eyesore and one that was built in the last fifty years; supposedly, it provided protection from other Vamps—as if we needed it. We’ve been living in peace for the last several decades, since the Great War a century ago. A large shadow formed in my peripheral, and I surged left, ducked, and was met hand to hand by Chance.

“Ah, a pleasure as always, Tate.”

“Chance. Let go of my fucking hand.”

His grip tightened as he smirked, that stupid smirk that had several female vampires dropping their pants. Not me, never again. Never mind his dreamy blue eyes, the color of glaciers barely submerged in crisp water. Forget his curly blond hair that waved perfectly over his left eyebrow in a way that suggested he knew just how hot he was.

An enigma, that’s what he was. Vampires were not attractive—we were mediocre at best. Somehow, Chance seemed to be an exception to that rule; he’d bedded nearly every female in the Glenn. I returned his smirk and inched to my fullest height with a straight spine. Still a good ten-inches shorter, but I didn’t care—after my recent feeding, I felt formidable.

His left eyebrow raised. “You better than anyone should know I have an exceptional sense of smell.” He lowered his head and sniffed. Actually sniffed. “You want me. Just admit it, shortie,” he said the last word in challenge, while pulling me closer to him. Much too close.

I snarled at him even as my stupid, stupid heart betrayed me by beating faster. The luck of a twenty-year old female. His familiar scent of spicy bergamot filled my nostrils, beckoning me back to a year before. No, I refused to remember. Things were very different now and for good reason. He was unforgivable. He was responsible for Irene.

“No, Chance ,” I said as I poked my finger into his chest. “And in case you missed it, it’s called a pun. Your name is the same as your answer, just add a ‘no’ in front. And if you need any other help,” I inched even closer, never to be outdone in a challenge, “you can go ask your daddy. In fact, you can come with me, and I can explain your total lack of scruples.” I yanked my arm free and took three steps back.

His nostrils were flaring. Ah yes, the big bad Chance had his feelings hurt. Good.

“You’re not even supposed to be here,” I forged on. “I thought all the trash stayed in the S.O.” I savored the way his face blanched as my jab landed.

“Really?” His jaw ticked.

I simply crossed my arms and held his stare. He thought his dick did all the talking but forgot that intelligence is a prerequisite for many areas of life, sex included.

“My men in the Southern Outpost are well trainedand thebest in our military," he began. "Disrespect me all you want, Tate, but watch what you say about the soldiers who risk their lives for their country, and for spoiled brats like yourself.”

Without an ounce of apparent effort, he jumped twelve feet up to the battlement’s staircase, and then jogged up the final steps to where the rest of the guara remained. Just like him to show off his unique gifts of agility. He barked out several orders and then stormed off for the tower. Oh yes, I’d gotten under his skin, just not how he wanted.