Chapter 11

Catta looked at the photos on the cell phone screen and handed it back to Margaret before turning back to the bound vampire on the table in front of her. She dragged her blade across the writhing female’s forearm, watched the blood trickle down onto the platter under her body.

“Well?” her subordinate asked, a dark eyebrow arched in question.

As if she had the standing to question Catta. “Well what?” Her tone was dry as she took her attention away from her victim.

She tossed her red hair back slightly, the action haughty. “She’s here in the city. I thought you said she never left her land.”

Catta lifted a shoulder, unconcerned about Dallas. The child she’d borne was weak—one of Catta’s greatest disappointments. They could have ruled together, had immeasurable power. But Dallas had run away like the coward she was. “She has friends here.”

“Yes, but she is with a dragon.”

She stared at Margaret, not bothering to hide her annoyance at this line of questioning. She was beautiful and Catta had enjoyed fucking her on occasion, but couldn’t this fool see that Catta was busy? “And?”

“What if she’s here to disrupt our plans?”

“Please. She’s a scared little bunny who wants nothing to do with me.” It was a shame too, because untapped power simmered inside Dallas. But she’d never wished to open up her heart, her soul, to all of that glorious power. Instead she was so worried about doing good for others. Catta held back a snort. “How about you let me worry about her, and you worry about doing your damn job.” Fire flickered against her fingertips as she took a step toward Margaret.

The other witch didn’t step back but she shifted nervously on her feet. “I’m not challenging your authority,” she said before ducking her gaze in subservience.

“Sounds like you are,” she murmured, feeding on the fear that rolled off Margaret. She wouldn’t kill her, not now anyway. She still needed her, needed her power reserves if necessary. And Catta was all about playing the long game. It was how she’d survived in a world where witches normally only lived a couple hundred years, max.

“It won’t happen again.”

Catta turned away, dismissing her. “Good. But keep an eye on Dallas—without being obvious. I don’t want her or the dragon to know we’re watching.” Because she recognized that dragon. If he was still hunting her, he would be sorely disappointed. She’d managed to change her scent over the years. Not completely, but enough that he wouldn’t know her by scent.

“Of course, mistress.”

Catta dismissed her with a flick of her wrist and returned to the vampire she was currently draining of blood. She ran her fingertips over the writhing female’s cuts and sucked on her blood. Like fresh candy. There was no other taste in the world like it.

And vampire blood was so much stronger than human.

But Catta wanted dragon blood. Craved it. Had been desperate for it for eons. After the last dragon she’d killed, she’d ended up in a stasis of sorts until only decades ago. The dragon’s blood had been so strong it had forced Catta to go into Hibernation just like the dragons did.

She’d learned to control it since waking up, however. And now she was more powerful than ever.

Soon she would have everything she’d ever wanted. Immortality and the ultimate control over life and death.