Blood Debt: A Reverse Harem Vampire Romance (Kingdom of Blood Book 1), Callie Rose [best free ereader .TXT] 📗

I wince. Vampires I can deal with, but public humiliation nightmares are next-level torture. “Yup.”

“I’ve done that.”

My mouth falls open a little on a choked laugh. “Really?”

He grins, his eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Twice, unfortunately. Once in middle school, and once in high school. Hell, I almost did it again before heading to work one day a year ago, but my roommate caught me before I left the house. I don’t know, it’s like my brain is always a couple steps ahead and slightly to the left of my body. Living in this palace is the only reason I don’t wander into traffic in the middle of the day.”

Chewing my lip, I consider his words as we glide around the dance floor. We’re still not exactly moving with the beat of the music, but we’ve found a sort of rhythm that seems to work for us.

I don’t know whether to believe him or not. He seems smart enough, and I’ve already seen his sense of humor—but I’ve also witnessed his sense of direction, so his assertion isn’t entirely unbelievable.

“And… are you okay with it?” I ask slowly, looking up to study his face.

“Been this way my whole life.” He shrugs, a what are you gonna do expression passing over his features.

I huff another laugh. “No, I mean, being immortal. Having your life saved just to be turned into a killer.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and my shoulders tense. Shit. I got too comfortable talking to him and let my guard down more than I should’ve. That’s not a thing a good tribute would say. I want to take the words back, but I can’t. Backpedaling would probably just make it worse. I’ll have to figure out a way to spin this.

“A killer?” He looks a bit baffled again, then nods in understanding. “Oh, because I’m a vampire. That’s just a rumor, honestly. A stereotype, I guess you could say. Vampires don’t have to be killers. I mean, why would tributes come here willingly if they thought they were going to die inside this palace?”

He’s giving me a big, concerned, doe-eyed look, the way a mentally healthy friend looks at you when you’re making suicide jokes.

“Well, because they’re in awe of vampires, of course. Just like I’ve always been,” I say, letting myself lean a little closer to him as I soften my voice. Good. That’s more like it. Much more like a real blood tribute would sound.

We turn, and over Connor’s shoulder, I catch sight of Nathan looking up sharply.

“We are pretty awesome.”

Connor grins and spins me a little, distracting me momentarily. I smile tightly at him before turning my attention back to Nathan, worry rising up in my throat like bile. A female vampire is leaning over the back of his chair, stroking his chest.

Don’t fucking do it, bitch.

But even as the thought forms in my head, she drops her mouth to his neck. His eyes widen and his face goes a cold, clammy gray.

Every muscle in my body stiffens. Every instinct, every fiber, is telling me to run over there and kill the bitch who’s eating my brother. I have to calm down. I fucking have to. If I break them up, I’ll be painting a fat red target on both of our backs.

Kill her, now, the hunter’s voice in my head screams, undeterred by logic or caution. Kill the monster.

But nobody will buy the dutiful tribute act if I do, not for a second. They’ll have me executed on the spot, and maybe Nathan too.

I stumble in Connor’s embrace, barely paying attention to the dance anymore. I keep sneaking glances over toward the men's’ table, and every time I do, the vampire bitch is still latched on to my brother’s throat.

You’ve had enough, stop drinking. That’s too fucking much, dammit!

But I have to allow it. I’m going to have to let these bloodsuckers do the same thing to me, after all. A short-term sacrifice for a long-term win, like getting injured in a fight but still taking the vampire’s head off. It’s the same thing.

Still, for all my rational self-talk, I can’t force my body to relax. I’m not trained for relaxation, I’m trained to take out vampires. Giving them an inch feels like losing a mile.

“Hey,” Connor says gently. I snap my attention back to him and see concern shining in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

I nod—I think I nod—but I can’t bring myself to speak. When I glance back over at Nathan, the vampire woman is finally done feeding, but now there’s blood dripping down his neck to his shoulder. She’s letting him bleed, why is she just letting him bleed? The blood trail makes it halfway down his chest before she intercepts it. She slides over him like a snake, lapping up the blood as it runs, taking her sweet time cleaning up the mess before she closes the holes.

Jesus. She was showing off. Proving her fucking power over him.

Playing with her food.

Hot fury lashes down my spine. I realize a moment too late that I’m squeezing Connor’s hand really, really hard. He follows my gaze.

“Oh. Beatrice,” he mutters with a grimace. “I guess she grew up in the era of old-timey vampire movies, you know, big productions, heavy shock factor, lots of blood and sex. It doesn’t harm her tributes, but it sure does freak out the new ones. ”

He spins us around so that I’m not looking at Nathan anymore, and I get the weird sense that he’s trying to protect me from something he can tell upsets me. I meet his eyes again, but the obvious concern in his expression doesn’t help my tension at all.

It’s like having a tiger groom you—you never know when he might stop licking and decide to take a little taste.

“You should lie down,” the blond man says gently. Empathy shines from his eyes, which crinkle a little around the corners as he gives