Balthazar Read Free

or not. Balthazar intended for him not to like it one bit.
    â€œBalthazar.” Skye was wide-eyed with fright and astonishment. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œRight now? Kicking this guy’s ass. Stay back and get out of here if you can.” Thankfully, she did what he asked, stepping farther away toward safety. That meant he didn’t have to worry about protecting her and could concentrate on making this vampire sorry he’d ever decided to feed on a helpless girl in the woods.
    His opponent righted himself, no more than dazed by the throw. Balthazar had expected as much. He bolted toward the guy as fast as he could. The element of surprise was all he had going for him. He didn’t drink human blood often, and obviously this one did, plus something about him told Balthazar that this one was older than he was. Stronger. More powerful.
    Surprise paid off. He was able to tackle the vampire solidly, taking him down to the ground. Balthazar grabbed for a nearby branch, a short one that could serve as a stake. Though he disliked killing his own kind and avoided it whenever possible, the alternative here meant leaving behind a threat to human life. No way. But as he lifted the stake overhead, readying the fatal blow, something happened that he hadn’t expected.
    He recognized the vampire.
    â€œLorenzo,” he said. Knowing him was more reason to stake him, not less, but the astonishment of seeing this vampire—from the most terrible moments of his past—froze Balthazar half in place, stake still clenched in his fingers. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    â€œI might ask the same of you.” Lorenzo’s shock was similar to his own; this meeting was a horrid coincidence, no more. Immortality seemed to increase the probability of coincidence. Given enough time, paths would inevitably cross—even the ones you least wanted.
    â€œLeave this girl alone. Why are you after her?”
    â€œBecause she is human and we are vampires—something you too often forget. Now, ask what you really long to know,” Lorenzo said. “Ask me if I came here with Redgrave.”
    He said the name so sweetly, as though it were a father or a lover. For all Balthazar knew, it was some of both. The name never ceased to send a chill through him—part dread, part hate. Redgrave .
    â€œWhere is he?” Balthazar demanded. His voice was almost a growl now.
    â€œNot near enough to watch you die.”
    The blow slammed into Balthazar’s chest—both hands, spread broadly, nearly enough force to crack ribs. It sent him flying backward, not far, but enough for Lorenzo to skitter free. Within an instant they were both on their feet, facing each other. Balthazar still clutched the stake; it was as close as he would get to an advantage from now on.
    Lorenzo de Aracena, of sixteenth-century Spain, a would-be poet and a dirty fighter. Often subservient to his sire—Redgrave, the darkest vampire Balthazar had ever known or hoped to know—but just as often renegade. Sometimes his sire pushed him away for his own reasons; Lorenzo always went limping back eventually, eager for someone to tell him what to do, what to think, whom to kill. He would always be someone’s slave. Most vampires were, in the end.
    Balthazar wasn’t. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to kill Lorenzo, but he was damned sure going to try.
    â€œDo you want the girl for yourself?” Lorenzo smiled, almost politely. “That’s impossible, I’m afraid.”
    â€œShe’s not going to be yours,” Balthazar replied. He kept his voice even as well. Inside, though, he was uncertain—it was strange of Lorenzo to challenge him about Skye in particular. For the two of them, just seeing each other was reason enough to get into it. But why claim possession of Skye? She was just a girl, just a convenient victim chosen at random.
    Wasn’t she?
    â€œSo many