Taken by the Vampire King. Laura Kaye

king nodded, or tried. He wasn’t yet sure of the connection between his sentient self and his physical actions.

      It wasn’t until the pain hit that he trusted himself again. Head hanging on his shoulders, he looked down at his torso. Coat destroyed. Shirts and skin beneath hanging in torn strips. Blood dripped from his face, but his hands were useless to wipe it away. More of the crimson covered the skin there, too, as if he’d bathed in blood. His own and his enemy’s.

      Christ, he hadn’t felt a moment of the Soul Eater’s effort to defend itself. He’d been totally unaware.

      White-hot fear lanced through him, and a sob ripped up his throat.

      This is how it’s going to be. This is what lies before me.

      A scream pierced the thick silence. And again.

      The sound beckoned the darkness encroaching on Henrik’s psyche. A red cape before a raging bull.

      Three Soul Eaters remained out there. Somewhere. And every instinct in his body told him at least one was the source of that human’s alarm.

      Driven by the beast within, Henrik shoved Jakob away, flipped off the gritty pavement and took off in search of his next kill.

      Chapter 4

      Kaira said her goodbyes to the group of other contestants and crossed the street. The reception had ended and everyone was gathering down the street at a bar to continue the festivities, but she wasn’t up to it. Fever still heated her skin, her hip joints ached and tenderness had settled into her left side. Ever since her encounter with the older man—Jakob, he’d called himself—she’d felt shaky. Ridiculous, really. Nothing had happened. But her body didn’t seem to be convinced.

      She dipped her chin further underneath the chunky scarf and held the collar of her wool dress coat closed at her throat. Should’ve brought a change of clothes, but when she’d left her little, out-of-the-way hotel this afternoon, it hadn’t seemed necessary. Now she was cold and tired and feeling the weight of her illness, and the two-block walk back to the bus stop seemed like two miles. Especially in heels. If it wasn’t so cold, she’d have slipped them off and walked in her bare feet.

      Turning the corner, Kaira distracted herself from her aches by replaying the night’s highlights in her mind’s eye. Two of her photographs had already sold. She’d had great conversations with the rest of the judges—everyone seemed universally impressed with her vision for the series and especially with her violet aurora. She could’ve broken out into a dance in the middle of the gallery. And she’d had a promising conversation with a travel editor at a magazine based out of Copenhagen. All in all, one of the best nights of her life.