Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 by Tracy St.John Read Free Book Online Page A

Atlanta,
myself.”
    Bane looked at his cigarette, which he
hadn’t taken a drag off of since lighting it. “Probably, but the
dragon blood is coming from somewhere.” He tossed the half-burned
butt on the ground. “All indicators are it’s moving from one of the
ports in Florida or Georgia. Fulton Falls is as good a place for it
to be smuggled in as any.”
    “Just stay careful, Levi. C.K. and
Hazel have a few bodies between them. One more isn’t going to make
them lose any sleep, and your life is worth more than a bunch of
bloodsuckers.”
    “Aw, you care. Big hearts and kisses,
sweetheart.” Bane’s unexpected smile lit his face, and I drank in
the handsome visage.
    “Asshole.” The bear pretended to swipe
a handful of claws at the werewolf. “I’ll check in with you in two
days.”
    “All right, man.”
    The werebear shuffled off into the
darkness and Bane/Levi went back into the club. I stayed in the
alley for a few moments, trying to catch my breath. My mind reeled
with the information I’d stumbled on.

Chapter 3

    Day arrived and I was back at the King
George, though in a much more private setting than the Para Central
ballroom/office. Tristan and I sat on a big, ornate queen-size bed
with down pillows and a comforter.
    This was somewhere on the fourth floor,
one of the grander suites of the hotel. It doesn’t exist in the
real world, as only the ground floor survived the fire more or less
intact. But the King George, so well loved by so many back in its
time, has a ghostly presence of its own.
    In its memory, I can enjoy the
handcarved opulence of its suites’ furnishings, the always
fresh-laundered scent of the finest linens of its 1920’s heyday,
and even gourmet meals and champagne, served up via the
recollections of a five-star chef and sommelier. I can enjoy all
the amenities once the sole province of Rockefellers, Vanderbilts,
and other hoighty-toighties. Now if they’d just add a modern
spa…
    I was happily wallowing naked on the
satin comforter, its diamond pattern done in rich burgundy and
gold. Not so naked in his navy slacks and white button-down shirt
was Tristan, done with being a vampire for the day. At least his
shoes and tie were off. Now he was a ghost like me, warm and sexy
and not scary. Without the hunger for blood lurking beneath his
every thought, the chiseled planes of his face seemed not so sharp,
his almost black eyes no longer cold. This was the man who made my
heart pound with joy and not fear.
    He was gorgeousness personified, my
cultured sweetie. The perfect foil to Dan’s rough, almost craggy
appearance, Tristan was all gentlemanly with impeccable manners.
Well, to a point. Once you dumped sex in the mix, the softer
aspects went bye-bye. Tristan was the controlling Dom to my sub
tendencies. The man was all power and demand, just the thing to
make me melt into a warm, gooey puddle of Brandilynn.
    Unfortunately, sex was a long way from
his mind right now. Even my nude cavorting all over the bed,
rumpling the cover as I indulged in a sensuous feast of touch,
couldn’t make him stray from important business. The revelation
that one of the Beasts was a secret agent had gotten his attention
fast.
    “The feds think the Beasts have
something to do with the tainted blood supplies,” he mused. I could
practically see the hamster in his head, making that wheel go
around in a blur.
    “That’s what I got. And Bane or Levi or
whatever his name is thinks either the pouches themselves or the
dragon blood tainting them could be coming in through our
port.”
    “Dragon’s blood.” Tristan shuddered.
“Terrible stuff. It burns us alive from the inside.”
    I echoed his shudder. “For once, I’m
glad you only drink from the source.”

    Tristan is important enough as Fulton
Falls’ only para county commissioner to score blood groupies, young
women who get off on vampires biting them and sucking their blood.
And when I say ‘get off’ I mean literally. Apparently, sex with