The Vampire King by Heather Killough-Walden Page A

and gracefully, brushing the front of his immaculate suit jacket as he pushed out his chair and came to his full impressive height.
    The trio of adolescent boys at the table beside Evie had gone quiet for once. Roman met each of their gazes and noted the natural, old-brain fear that blossomed there. With a measured patience, he moved around the table, noting that the entire coffee shop had fallen into a hush.
    “You,” he said softly as he came to stand beside the boys’ table. They froze, their eyes wide, their pallor pale. “Leave,” he said. “Now.” There was of course no need to raise his voice. His tone and the eons of built up power behind it were enough.
    Oh my god.
    Her husky, beautiful voice was as clear in her thoughts as it was when she spoke aloud. He felt Evie’s eyes upon him, heard her heart literally skip a beat, and it was everything Roman could do not to crow.
    The teenagers waited another two seconds. And then all three boys were jumping into action, scrambling to get their chairs out from under them so that they could do as he commanded.
    Before a full quarter of a minute had passed, they’d left the shop and Roman had turned his full attention upon his prize.
    Now he tried very hard not to laugh. It was difficult; he could hear her thoughts loud and clear as she called herself a dork and tried not to die of embarrassment. She was too cute. Fumbling, innocent and naïve – and way too cute. He could just eat her.
    The thought caused his gums to ache. He felt his gaze heat in response. Evie noted the change and her blush deepened as he pulled the second chair out from the table.
    He was about to sit down when the hair on the back of his neck prickled and time seemed to slow. A buzzing filled the air, riding along his skin like rivulets of electricity. The magic within him coiled, building upon itself like a massive spring. The sensation was not new to him; he’d felt it many times before. It was a warning, hard and focused.
    His body tensed, each muscle flexing beneath the layers of his clothes, and his senses went on high alert. In a split moment, he could hear everything, smell everything, and see for miles.
    In this new, slowed-down stillness, Roman D’Angelo turned to peer through the coffee shop’s dark windows into the mystery of night beyond. What he found there filled him with dual emotions: stark confusion, and sudden, sharp wrath.
    With that, he was simultaneously blurring into motion and sending out an enormous pulse of his power. It wasn’t enough to stop the Hunter’s attack altogether; the bullets had already been fired and the glass would be shattered either way. Roman had the faculty to realize that the weapons had expertly been discharged in such a way as to minimize the chance of harming any of the humans, even where the glass was concerned, but he hadn’t the luxury of figuring out why at the moment.
    The shockwave of his power struck the windows like the blast of a bomb, instantly cracking them into a billion tiny shards and then sending those shards outward in a dazzling and dangerous display. The Hunters outside seemed to react in slow motion, diving for the ground and covering their heads as the blast rode over them. On its way, his power wave picked up the bullets mere inches from the barrels of their mother guns and spun them back toward the men who had fired them.
    Roman didn’t bother aiming any of the lead slugs; it wasn’t his intent to injure the Hunters, only to stop them. His more immediate concern was the one who was standing right now, also in slow motion, her brown-gold eyes as large as saucers in her lovely face.
    For the second time in as many days, the Vampire King pulled Evelynne Farrow into his strong embrace and held her with a fierceness that barely echoed the ferocity of his emotions. A kind of shock was setting in in the shop around him, striking Evie with the same chaos that it did the others in the shop. She struggled in his grasp, but it was