The vampires exchanged glances. Sir Kai had no idea what that meant. Reading social cues had never been his strong suit. If it had been someone else—someone socially competent—they might have picked up on the flickers of anxiety, even hope, in those looks.
But Sir Kai? Not a chance. Emotional intelligence was not part of his skill set. Nobody's perfect, right? So naturally, he missed all the subtle hints and remained blissfully unaware of whatever unspoken conversation was happening around him.
"What mission?" the vampire pinning him down finally asked, in the sort of tone that suggested wrong answer = immediate death.
The guy had short hair, tied neatly at the back, and the general appearance of a man in his forties. Which meant absolutely nothing.
Sir Kai knew better than to trust a vampire's looks. If this guy was one of the ten original bloodsuckers, then he wasn't just old—he was basically a historical artifact with fangs.
"Can you please let me go so I can tell you and—"
