Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.50)

“I like showing my clients that I appreciate their time,” Frank answered smoothly. He slid into the booth after Aimee.

The guards took their positions nearby, watching Arnost’s guards that were trying hard to look like mere tourists and failing.

Arnost rubbed his chin lightly, scrutinizing Frank. “You’re not much different from the last time I saw you. Still putting on airs, still arrogant, still far too pretty. Someone should have messed up your face a little more before you died.”

Frank mockingly frowned. “I admit to being far too pretty, but arrogant? Is it arrogant to be confident in my own gloriousness?”

“You’re still a little shit, I see.” Arnost shook his head, smirking.

“Not so little if you’re coming to me for your particular needs,” Frank said, his jovial tone taking on a cutting edge.

“Fucking Nazis nearly wiped them out. The Black Forest was once crawling with the furry bastards.” Arnost swallowed his drink in one gulp and motioned to the waiter for another. “They’re even more difficult to come by in our area since the Bosnian War. We lost quite a few packs in the conflict.”

“Werewolf blood does have that nice little kick, doesn’t it? And the aftereffects, heightened senses, additional strength, are worth the trouble it takes to capture them and keep them chained, huh?

” Frank crossed his legs and smiled coyly. “It’s a difficult addiction to kick.”

“My she-bitch died last month,” Arnost said gloomily. He stared into his empty drink, slapping the glass back and forth between his hands.

“My condolences,” Frank said glibly. “I’m sure she died...gruesomely.”

“Suicide. They don’t do well away from their pack. Which is why I’m looking for not just a female, but an alpha to be at her side. I’ll have to maim him, of course, but it may keep her alive longer.” Arnost set the glass aside. “The furry shits are better at hiding now. None of my European sources can find where they relocated.”

Aimee rubbed her arm, feeling chilled to the bone. She hated how easily the men spoke of living, sentient creatures that could easily fit into human society as mere commodities. But this was who Frank really was. It had taken years for her to gain his trust enough to invite her into his dark world. She had thought he was some sort of king of the vampires. Instead, he had revealed that he was a dealer of monster slavery. For a while she had believed that the supernatural creatures he had caught and sold weren’t much more than beasts. Then last year she had seen a teenage werecat sobbing for her mother while she was dragged away in silver chains by the vampire who had bought her. In that moment she realized how greatly she had erred in her estimation of Frank and his business. It was the first and only time she had accompanied Frank in turning over an acquisition.

“A pair is going to cost you, but I can see what I can do,” Frank answered.

The people at the table fell silent when the waiter arrived with a fresh drink and Frank ordered one for himself.

Arnost studied Frank thoughtfully. “You really think you can provide what my European connections could not?”

“I am a man of many surprises,” Frank answered confidently.

Arnost shook his head. “I think you’re full of shit. I cannot believe I flew into this shithole city to meet with the man who used to procure human freaks for the courts of Europe. You always were a glorified ringmaster of your own circus.”

“Yet, you need me,” Frank said, his gaze darkening dangerously. “You must be dying for another drink of warm werewolf blood.”

Arnost snorted, shrugged, and settled back into his seat. The man beside him was very still, taking on a more menacing demeanor. Aimee remained with her hands folded on the table, her head lowered.

“I’m desperate. I will admit to that. I deal with beautiful human commodities for wealthy, perverse individuals. It’s a dangerous game. Yet you claim to be able to find some of the rarest, most violent creatures that have ever roamed the earth.”

“You’ve heard of my reputation.” Frank lifted a shoulder dismissively.

“Reputations can be paid for,” Arnost pointed out.

“I can find your werewolves, Arnost. I can procure them. All I ask is for a small stipend to begin the process.”

“I would not call your stipend small by any definition of the word. How do I know you won’t be a conniving little bitch like you have been in the past and abscond with my money? No one even knows where your home is.”

“I’m really not a full disclosure kind of guy.” Frank flashed his charming smile. “Let me ask you, what is the rarest creature on the face of this earth?”

Arnost looked exasperated, but said, “A phasmagnus.”

“Those are extinct. I’m talking about a creature rumored to still exist.”

“A full-blooded witch,” Arnost answered, shrugging.

“Exactly. Not the little half-breed ones that usually end up playing with demons and black magic, but a full-blooded witch.”