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The Sweet Scent of Blood
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Текст книги "The Sweet Scent of Blood"


Автор книги: Сьюзан Маклеод



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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Chapter Six

You need all the front you can muster when facing seven foot of solid granite troll, especially when the troll is Detective Sergeant Hugh Munro. Never mind that he was as soft as faerie moss, he was not going to be happy I was there.

‘Genny, good to see you again.’ Hugh’s voice was a deep bass. He lifted one large hand in greeting and smiled, pink granite teeth gleaming: his bite was way worse than his bark. His shock of black hair grew straight up, two inches above his scalp ridge, contrasting nicely with the deep red of his skin—not sunburn, just his natural colour. Hugh came from the Cairngorms, from the largest tribe in Scotland, and his grand-mother was the matriarch.

I straightened my shoulders and returned his smile.

Hugh scanned the room until his gaze landed on Alan. ‘Mr Hinkley, Detective Inspector Crane would like to speak to you.’ He stepped aside, revealing the plump, curly-haired policewoman. ‘If you’d like to go with the constable, please.’

Alan glanced at me, his face etched with worry, then headed off with the curly-haired constable.

Hugh came towards Banner, the goblin and me. ‘Mr Banner, I am sorry, but the inspector insists you wait here, not in the morgue.’ A firm expression crossed Hugh’s face. ‘You have her full assurance that the injunction will be complied with fully.’

The goblin broke in with a high chittering sound. An answering rumble came from Hugh’s throat. The goblin tapped his bat three times on the floor, finger smoothing quickly down his nose to cover his mouth. Hugh, lips pressed tight together, touched his own nose, nodding with a slightly self-conscious air.

‘I hope there isn’t a problem, Sergeant.’ Banner sounded earnest as he looked from one to the other. ‘My minister assured me that the police wouldn’t have any issue with a goblin guard.’

‘No, not a problem at all.’ Reddish dust puffed into the air above Hugh’s head, his embarrassment even more obvious. ‘Young Jeremiah here is an adopted member of my tribe. He was just saying... hello.’

Hmm. If that was the case, what was Hugh getting all dusted about?

‘That’s great.’ Banner gave us all a wide smile, still not noticing when the goblin flinched again. ‘It’s always nice to bump into old friends, isn’t it?’

Fine crevices creased across Hugh’s forehead as he frowned. ‘You’re right, Mr Banner. Old friends are always a welcome sight. Please feel free to wait here as long as you want, you and Jeremiah both.’ He looked down at me. ‘Genny, why don’t you come through to the office.’

I stifled a sigh. It wasn’t a request.

As I followed him along the corridor, I eyed the precisely ironed crease down the middle of his white shirt, which was tucked neatly into the belted waistband of his black trousers. He didn’t look much different in plain clothes, or any older than when I’d first met him ten years ago. Trolls usually lived a few centuries, and I’d worked out that Hugh must be around ninety-odd, for all that he looked half that age.

He stopped, held the office door open for me. I breathed in the familiar fresh smell of ozone that was Hugh and safety. ‘How are things?’

‘Fine, Genny.’ A large, gentle hand touched my shoulder.

‘I heard about the new boss.’ I briefly patted his arm. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘So am I,’ he rumbled. ‘But Detective Inspector Crane has an exemplary track record, and I’m happy to be working with her.’

I smiled at his diplomatic answer. ‘You’d have made a great Inspector, Hugh.’

‘Just wasn’t the right time for me, Genny. The DI’s a powerful witch, got a lot of experience here and in Europe; she’s just what the team needs.’

And even though she’s a witch, she’s still human, I added silently. Hugh might have been the first troll to make Detective Sergeant, four years previously, but he was still a troll. Life sucks sometimes, and not just for vampires.

I walked into the empty open-plan office and headed for Hugh’s L-shaped desk. It was easy enough to find—his was the only one clear of all but the essentials: a pile of paper coasters in a pink granite holder, three of the overlarge ballpoint pens manufactured for a troll’s fingers, and an electronic photo frame, currently showing a summer landscape of his mountain. Next to a tidy stack of files, his computer screen flashed a screensaver of the same view, this one taken in lightly falling snow.

Smiling, I asked, ‘So what’s with the goblin and you?’

‘Grandmother was concerned about some of the newer goblins being brought into London.’ He pointed me to his ‘guest’ chair as he sat down. ‘She asked me to be their Ardathair, that’s sort of a pastoral figurehead.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ I frowned at his troubled face.

‘Sit down, Genny.’ Hugh placed his hands flat on the desk. ‘There’s something more important we need to talk about.’

So much for the catch-up.I dropped my bag on the floor, but instead of sitting immediately, I retreated to the water dispenser in the corner. ‘Did you want some, Hugh?’

‘What do you think you’re doing, Genny?’

Getting some water, I wanted to say as I filled the white plastic cup, but I heard the concern in his voice under the reproach, so I didn’t. ‘Hugh, it’s no big deal.’ I carried the water back to his desk. ‘I lookat the victim, check her out for spells and let my client know if I find any.’ I sat down. ‘Job done.’

The cracks across Hugh’s forehead deepened. ‘There’s nothing to find. The standard tests for magic were all clear.’ He straightened one of his pens. ‘Then when Mr Hinkley brought up his concerns, Inspector Crane put a circle up herself and repeated them, and did some others. She even got an independent witch from another coven to confirm her findings.’ He gave me a level look. ‘No magic. Nothing.’

‘So that’s what I’ll tell him.’ I gave Hugh a small smile. ‘Once I’ve seen for myself.’

‘Genny, I shouldn’t be telling you this’—he pressed his index finger against his lips—‘but the most recent bites match the boyfriend’s dental mould.’

‘What about the blood counts?’

‘High levels of V1 and V2 as expected, VM3 present but inactive.’

I nodded. Vampire Venom and Virus—3V—isn’t exactly what the name suggests; the scientist who discovered the different components back in the seventies was a fanatical Souler. He identified the clear fluid injected by a vampire’s small retractable fangs as a combination of hormones and proteins, only he decided it made more sense to promote it as a poisonous virulent disease, and back then the Department of Health agreed with him.

The Venom—V1—part is the initial ‘infection’. It boosts production of the red blood cells and addicts the victim, which makes for the ideal blood-slave—lots of hot thick blood on tap, and someone who is dying (literally, on occasion) to have a vamp sink fangs into them. As the infection builds, V1 mutates into V2, and the morphogens alter the DNA, upping the slave’s immune system to the point that every other disease is killed off. It’s a great health benefit—that’s if the slave manages to survive the side-effects of the 3V itself. VM3 is the trigger for the Gift, the marker that the original scientist never found.

But then, he couldn’t seemagic, and VM3 is the magic part of the equation.

The high levels of V1 and V2 made sense. Melissa not only worked for vampires, but dated one too. But with VM3 still being dormant . . . I frowned, that meant Melissa’s death had nothing to do with a botched Gifting.

Something else Hugh had said caught my attention. ‘Recent bites?’ I asked.

‘The pathologist reports that she had multiple bites, inflicted over an extended period of time. He thinks he’s narrowed it down to four, maybe five, regular partners. But only the boyfriend matched the bite wounds made in the last week.’

‘He must’ve overdosed her on V1.’ I pursed my lips. ‘Still, at least she’d have been too hyped-up to know much about it, so what killed her—a stroke or a heart attack?’

‘The victim died of blood loss, Genny,’ Hugh rumbled. ‘Almost drained dry was how the pathologist put it.’

What Hugh was saying didn’t tally with Alan Hinkley’s tale of true love between Bobby, aka Mr October, and Melissa. Draining someone infected with 3V would be almost impossible for just one vampire. They just couldn’t ingest that amount of blood fast enough—unless it was deliberate.

‘Shit,’ I muttered, ‘the sucker must’ve gorged himself.’

‘Exactly,’ Hugh sighed. ‘Case solved. Except for the father, who just can’t accept what’s happened.’

Damn.

‘Maybe the father just needs to hear it from someone else.’ I took a sip of water. ‘Someone not connected with the police. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago that his son would’ve been staked and burned almost as soon as you’d nabbed him, is it?’

Hugh’s expression turned disapproving. ‘Vampires have the same legal rights as any other human, Genny. They have had for the last fifteen-odd years, since the High Court ruled—’

‘Yeah, I know,’ I interrupted. ‘So once the injunction’s lifted, there’s no harm me looking, is there?’

His mouth turned down as he picked up a file. ‘Genny, getting involved with this is not right for you.’

I so didn’t want to hear this. Not when I agreed with him.

‘C’mon, Hugh.’ I tried an appeasing smile. ‘I checked out a couple of things like this for your old boss.’

More red mica shimmered above his head. Hugh really was dusted about this. ‘Twice you worked for the old man, both times the victims were witches. Neither case was connected to the vampires,’ he said gruffly.

‘What can happen?’ I waved at the room. ‘We’re in a police station. So this has something to do with the vamps, but my client isn’t one, and neither was the victim. I deal with vampire victims at HOPE all the time. It doesn’t cause me any hassle.’

‘You’re splitting hairs.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Genny, you’ve coped better, these last few years—and I’m proud of you—but any contact with the vampires isn’t going to improve matters.’ His frown cracks deepened. ‘What if one of them decides to take an interest in you? What’s going to happen then?’

‘I can handle it.’ I glanced at the bruises circling my wrist. An image of the Armani-suited vamp sliced through me. I clenched my left hand as something fluttered deep in my stomach. Yeah, like hell you can.

Hugh leaned forward, hands flat on the file. ‘In the past, so long as a fae didn’t venture into Sucker Town, they could be reasonably sure of not falling foul of the vampires. Even then, an adult fae doesn’t have much to fear from them. They can’t trick you with mesma, they can’t mind-lock you.’ He drummed his fingers insistently, then stopped. ‘But that won’t stop them from using force if they think it’s worth it.’

I kept my voice calm, hiding my exasperation. ‘We’ve been over this—’

‘You could end up dead, Genny.’

Of course, dead would be my first choice.

‘And don’t bother telling me fae are hard to kill,’ he continued. ‘I’ve seen it happen before. Injure any fae badly enough in mind and body and they can’t help but fade.’

‘Hugh, I knowall this.’ I swirled the water in my cup, watching as it formed a tiny whirlpool. ‘I don’t need a lecture.’

‘Yes, I think that’s exactly what you need,’ he rumbled quietly. ‘I’ve told you, you can’t afford to reveal what’s wrong with you.’

I pasted an attentive look on my face and tuned him out. Hugh’s advice had always kept me safe, and I loved him to bits. But sometimes it felt like listening to his ‘advice’ was like having a stake hammered through my heart: Don’t get too friendly with the witches. Keep your distance from the fae. Stay behind a threshold after dark. Never Glamour a human, however much you trust them—Of course, the times I’d actually ignored his advice hadn’t ended up a resounding success.

Never mind that if my having 3V became public knowledge, getting the sack from my job would be the least of my worries—I wouldn’t have the chance to feel rejected when the fae gave me their collective cold-shoulder. No, the vamps would have me auctioned off to the highest bidder faster than I could shout, ‘ One sidhe blood-slave, going, going, gone.’

I tuned back in as Hugh’s lecture got to the point I’d been waiting for. ‘—and it won’t take much for the witches to withdraw their protection.’

I took a deep breath, tried for another conciliatory expression. ‘Stella knows all about Alan Hinkley and who his son is. She agreed he should speak to me.’ Okay, so she hadn’t actually expected me to take the job, and she hadn’t actually answered any of my texts yet—neither of which I was going to tell Hugh, but hey, sometimes you have to go with what you’ve got—and so I added the clincher, ‘I think they’ve got some sort of thing going on between them ...’ I trailed off at his expected horrified expression.

‘What sort of thing?’ he demanded.

‘I’m not entirely sure.’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ he jabbed his finger at me. ‘She might be willing to risk her own position, but she’s one witch among many. You’ve got more to lose than she has.’

‘Fine.’ I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. Damn.Why was he so angry? I placed my cup carefully on the coaster and swallowed back my frustration. ‘Hugh, all I’ve been asked to do is look at a dead body and check it out for magic. It will take five minutes, tops. I really can’t see how the witches can possibly object to that.’

‘Are you sure that’s all?’

‘Yes, of course! ‘Hugh, I know you’re worried.’ I leaned forward, put my hands over his. His skin felt hot and gritty. ‘But I can take care of myself now, and this is just a job.’

He withdrew his hands. ‘You can tell me if there’s anything else, you know. I’d understand.’

Puzzled, I frowned at him. ‘What else could there be?’

His brow ridges lowered as he slid a sheet of paper from the file and pushed it towards me.

I looked down, blinked when I read it. It was an official form of some sort, something to do with a blood visit. I skimmed it, seeing Roberto Octoberhandwritten next to the section marked vampire.

My eyes shot up to Hugh’s. ‘What the fuck is this?’

‘Part of the updated vampires’ legal rights. They now have the right to live blood.’ He glared at me. ‘Obviously they have to provide their own willing donors, so we insist on a waiver of responsibility.’

‘I get that, Hugh, but what I want to know is why my name’s on it.’

‘Why don’t you tell me, Genny?’ He slapped his hand on the desk. ‘Explain to me why a vampire arrested for murder has put you down as his first choice on his nightly menu card?’

Before I could even think of an answer, the door swung open and the curly-haired constable came into the room. She smiled at Hugh, looked at me like I was a toad, and headed towards us.

Hugh smiled back at her, the anger clearing from his face like the sun banishing the shadows.

Shit.Why would a vampire I’d never met think I was going to put out for a free meal? There had to be some mistake. Gritting my teeth, I read down the page again, checking out the various clauses.

‘Shall I take Ms Taylor down to the cells, Sergeant?’ Constable Curly-hair stopped by the desk and leant her ample hip against it, very obviously giving me the cold shoulder.

‘What?’ His distracted tone made me look up.

As she patted her hair I caught a flash of pink at the cuff of her uniform. ‘Has she signed the form, Sir? The sucker’s getting a bit restless.’ She threw me a scornful glance. ‘Think he might be hungry.’

I narrowed my eyes. Was this why she was so down on me?

Hugh slowly turned back to me. ‘Give us a couple of minutes, please, Constable.’

‘Sure thing, Sarge,’ she said, patting his bare arm as she walked past him. ‘I’ll get some water. You just shout when you’re ready.’

Hugh twisted round to watch her go.

An idea slid into my mind and I bent my head again, skimming down the form until I found the clause I was looking for. Damn. Ignoring the anxious leap in my pulse, I read it again. So that’swhat this was all about.

I leaned forward, tapped Hugh’s hand. ‘Something going on between you two?’ I nodded at Constable Curly-hair, busying herself at the water dispenser.

He shifted his attention back to me.

‘You can’t keep your eyes off her.’

‘Can’t I?’ Bewilderment fractured his face. ‘But Janet’s human—a nice human,’ he added quickly, ‘and I’m a troll.’

I shrugged. ‘So? It’s not like it doesn’t happen.’

Another large puff of dust glinted above his head ridge. ‘Human females are very nice, but they’re—’ Hugh’s skin flushed an even darker red than normal. ‘They’re too slim for me,’ he finished diplomatically.

‘Shit, Hugh.’ I snorted, throwing an unbelieving glance at the overweight constable. ‘If you think she’s slim, what do you think I am?’

‘Oh, you’re just skin and bones, Genny,’ he blurted out. ‘Not as bad as you used to be, maybe, but you still look like a good gust would blow you away.’

And there was I thinking I’d actually filled out, that my curvy bits had finally got enough curves on them to justify the description.

Hugh’s face screwed up in dismay. ‘I’m sure you look very pretty to another fae, Genny—or even a human.’ He was getting flustered. ‘Look, I can’t let you see the victim, not with this injunction, but let me ask the DI if you can at least see the initial report.’ He pushed himself up out of his chair and hurried out of the office.

Suppressing the twinge of guilt because I’d deliberately embarrassed him, I picked up one of Hugh’s overlarge pens. Pulling the Waiver of Responsibility towards me, I did my own few seconds of wavering, then signed on the dotted line. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the piece of paper and flapped it at Constable Curly-hair.

She ambled over, a sneer playing round her mouth. Plucking the Waiver form from my hand, she looked down at me. ‘What made Hugh dash off like that?’

I looked innocent.

‘Never mind, it doesn’t matter.’ She slipped the form into the folder with a satisfied air. ‘Suckers are kept in the basement. You’d better follow me.’

‘No problem.’

Time to go have dinner with a vampire.

Chapter Seven

The cell had a dead, airless feel to it, a wrongness that made my chest ache. The white-painted walls and floor should have felt cold, but the temperature in the small box-like room made London’s current heat-wave feel like a cool winter’s day. Coughing at the faint scent of blood that caught the back of my throat, I looked, but there was no magic, not even the flashing pink spell I’d expected to see at the constable’s wrist.

The heat was making sweat prickle down my spine ... of course, the fact that it was going to be just me and a murderous vampire, alone together, might be another reason why I was less than cool and collected. The Waiver form had specified total privacy for a blood visit and not even the lawyers were given that. I was gambling that Mr October wasn’t just angling for a quick bite, but wanted to tell me his secrets, in secret.

‘The heat’s keeping the sucker docile.’ Constable Curly-hair gave her truncheon a swing. ‘Can’t have him getting all agitated now, can we?’

Roberto October, aka Bobby, huddled on a plastic mattress against the back wall, long legs drawn up, arms clutched tight across his chest. His eyes were scrunched shut, his face half-hidden by his lank hair. The black leather had been replaced with a white paper coverall that covered him from neck to ankle, leaving his feet bare. He looked more lost boy than dangerous seductive vampire.

‘C’mon, Sucker,’ Constable Curly-hair crooned, ‘wake up. Dinner’s here.’

What washer problem?

Bobby didn’t move, didn’t even open his eyes.

‘Life and soul of the party, Handsome is,’ she smirked. ‘Maybe he’ll be more fun when you’re alone together.’

She was really starting to piss me off. ‘Oh, I’m sure he will be,’ I said sweetly.

‘Right.’ She waved at the cell. ‘There’s a silver lining beneath the white: walls, floor, door and ceiling. So don’t bother trying any of your funny magic stuff.’

Mentally, I raised my eyebrows. They were painting the cells in liquid silver now? The new DI must be really busting the budget on that one. Even the HOPE clinic didn’t have that particular magical mod con. Still, it explained why I couldn’t seeany magic: the silver was blocking it. And that was why the air felt like sludge in my lungs. I’ve always reacted badly to silver, more so in the last three years.

Constable Janet held up an electronic keypad and slapped her truncheon against the steel door. ‘Just bang when you’re finished and I’ll come and let you out.’ She didn’t need to add if I feel like it; it was made plain by her tone of voice. ‘I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone then.’ She pressed a button on the keypad and the door slid open.

My gut clenched. Crossing my arms, I walked towards the silent vampire. Was this really such a good idea? He might look helpless, but that didn’t mean he was.

‘Constable?’ I called over my shoulder.

She stopped and turned back to me, scowling. ‘What?’

I smiled, like I knew a secret she didn’t. ‘You won’t forget to turn off the CCTV, will you?’

‘No,’ she snapped, then muttered, not so sotto voce,‘sucker slut!’ as the door hissed closed between us.

I snorted. The insult was apt, even if she didn’t know why ... but I wasn’t planning on opening a vein or anything else for this particular sucker if I could help it.

‘He said you’d come.’ Bobby’s voice was rusty, as if he hadn’t used it for a long time.

My pulse sped up. I swung back to face him, working to slow my heartbeat. ‘Who said I’d come?’

Bobby sat up, arms hugging his knees. ‘My Master.’ He lifted his face to me. ‘He said you’d be able to help.’

Shock sparked through me as I recognised him. I’d been right with my ‘lost boy’ thought: I’d metBobby, four years ago, and he’d been sitting in the exact same position, saying the exact same words to me.

‘They’ve got her in there.’ He lifted his arm slowly and pointed behind him at the blank wall.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

‘She’s in the basement.’ His shoulders hunched over again.

I stared in disbelief. He was either auditioning for an Equity Card ...

‘The Master said to wait here, to tell you where she is.’

... or somehow Bobby was reliving the past.

A past that was burned into my brain.

Bobby hadn’t been a vampire then, just one of their blood-pets. He’d kept watch all that night, after the girl had been found, waiting for the morning. Waiting for me to come.

‘I tried to get her to come out once they’d gone.’ His face crumpled. ‘But she started screaming ...’

It had been January. I took a deep breath and hugged myself, unwillingly replaying the scene in my mind. The morning sun was a cold disc in a sky streaked with red warnings. The place had been a rats’ nest—or rather, a fang-gang’s nest—of squalor, right in the heart of Sucker Town. My stomach roiled. Even now, I could still smell the gagging stench of urine, fresh blood and pain...

Bobby’s expression was bleak with horror.

I’d scrambled into the basement to get her. By then her screaming had disintegrated into whimpers. Her rainbow eyes dripped tears of ice that shattered like glass as they fell. After a while, she let me pick her up. Her fingers dug in my shoulders even as she flinched from my touch. I wrapped my coat around her, smearing the ruby dots that pitted her green skin like a macabre sprinkling of bloody sugar balls. The bastard suckers hadn’t left her with enough blood for the bruises to bloom.

‘How could they do that to her?’ Bobby’s whisper was harsh. ‘Siobhan’s so tiny.’

Siobhan, the girl, was Mick’s sister—half-sister really—seeing as she was a full-blooded leprechaun. She’d been twelve years old, here on a holiday visit from Ireland to see her brother, too young to fight back when the fang-gang had snatched her from her bed. She’d been gone for five nights when Mick had sought me out and begged for my help. If she’d been human, any hope of rescuing her alive would’ve died within twenty-four hours, but those with fae blood last somuch longer.

And even though I’d known it was an inside job—no vampire could’ve crossed Mick’s threshold without an invitation—and that Mick was only the messenger, I agreed to the bargain when it was offered.

Siobhan was the first fae I’d managed to save. There’d been others in need, before Siobhan, but I’d found them too late. After Siobhan, I’d been much more successful, but by then I had my own insider information.

That bargain, the one I’d made then, was why I was now standing in a locked cell with a vampire accused of murdering his girlfriend, and it was why that vampire was taking me on an unwelcome trip down memory lane.

He was delivering an invitation.

So what the fuck was wrong with using the phone?

Chill air crawled over my flesh. I backed up and leant against the door, not sure if Bobby would say any more. He rocked from side to side, grey eyes glazed, mouth half-open revealing a glimpse of fang. He might have hit the jackpot and graduated from blood-pet to blood-sucker over the last four years, but he was still just a puppet, jerking on his Master’s strings. It would be decades before Bobby would reach his Autonomy.

I wondered if he’d known what the Gift had meant, or whether, with his looks, he’d truly been a sucker? Poor bastard. But then, he was better off than Melissa, his girlfriend. At least he wasn’t lying in the morgue. Yet.

Another blast of frozen air hit me. I rubbed my hands over my arms and shivered again. What had happened to the heating? I looked up at the vents, puzzled. Then it hit me: Constable Curly-hair must’ve cut the heat. That same heat that was keeping Bobby, the vampire from getting agitated. Bitch!I rapped my knuckles against the cell door. Time to go.

Movement caught in the corner of my vision. I turned back to see Bobby on his hands and knees, head hanging down.

This was so not good.

I slammed my hand against the door again.

Bobby started moving, his movements more fluid now as he crawled across the floor towards me.

I kicked the door with my heel, feeling the reverberation of the hard metal. Surely she could hear it out there?

Three feet away, he lifted his head and scented the air.

My heart thudded. I shifted, arms loose and ready at my sides. Maybe I was staying for dinner after all.

Two feet...

Calm.Don’t get him excited. I willed my pulse to slow, but the trick wasn’t working. Instead, the silver-laden air tightened my throat and panic pumped my blood faster. C’mon, think calm!

His hand touched my shoe.

I clamped my jaw to stop from screaming.

He wrapped his arm round my knees, curling into my legs. ‘Help her,’ he whispered. ‘Help Siobhan.’

My head dropped back against the door and I let out a relieved sigh. Bobby was still trapped in the memory. Cautiously, I brushed his hair aside, offered him a reassuring smile. ‘It’s okay, Bobby, Siobhan’s safe now.’

Pink tinged tears glistened in his eyes. ‘She is?’

I cupped his cheek, feeling the urge to comfort him. ‘She’s gone back to Ireland,’ I said softly.

He made a quiet snuffle, then turned, pressing his nose against the inside of my wrist. My stomach jumped. His arm tightened round my legs, his hand convulsing around mine, the points of his fangs sharp against my pulse. The back of my neck throbbed in answer. I breathed in the heady smell of liquorice and the venom craving hit me. Need and want flared hot through my veins, drew a cry from my mouth and flooded my skin with a blood-flush.

Damn. I was neck-deep in trouble ... and there was nothing I wanted to do about it.

I closed my eyes, anticipating the sting of his bite—

The pain didn’t come.

A tremor shuddered through me.

I stared down at him, and carefully, slowly, pulled my wrist away from his mouth.

He didn’t try and stop me, just watched, awareness sliding over his face.

Tension spiralled inside me.

‘You’re the sidhe.’ Anticipation laced his voice. He flowed to his feet, the movement almost faster than I could see, crowded me back against the door, shoved his hands in my hair. The liquorice scent bled into my mind, holding me captive. Hot breath seared my jaw. He bent his head to my throat. Then he hissed, the noise loud and angry, and punched the door next to my face. I flinched and he flung himself away from me, yelling with rage.

I risked a look at the dented door and shuddered. What was wrong? Why hadn’t he bitten me? He was young, a baby vamp, and even if he wasn’t hungry—which he had to be—no way could he resist a feed that close to a venom-induced blood-flush. He should have broken skin at the very least.

Fuck.And I hadn’t been about to stop him.

I almost cried at the irony. How stupid was I, to think I could deny it twice in one night? So much for telling Hugh I had the 3V under control: the desire to offer my blood was so desperate that I had to fight the urge to scratch at my own bare arms. And there was worse to come.

I gritted my teeth as the cramps hit. I clutched at my stomach, sliding down the wall, tears pricking the back of my eyes.

He crouched in front of me. ‘Christ, but I want to drink you down so bad.’ He pulled me into his arms, buried his face in my neck. ‘You smell fucking wonderful.’ Anguish sliced through his voice. ‘God, I can feel it, feel your pain, taste it. It hurts, hurts like hell.’

Panting, I grabbed at him, tore at his paper coverall.

Hands caught my wrists, held me still. ‘Shh. You smell so sweet, and hot, your skin’s burning with blood, I bet you taste better than Her, better even than Mel.’ His words vibrated along my pulse. ‘I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks. All that thin human blood is all He’s let me have.’

Hot claws raked inside me as though rending the flesh from my bones. I opened my mouth, screaming with the pain .

Make it stop.

Sharp tips punctured my heart.

Please, anything.

Ripped through my gut .

No more.

Then it was over.

‘Why?’ I gasped into his chest, limp and exhausted.

‘Bastard likes his games.’ He laughed, the sound bitter. ‘It turns him on. He lets you have a taste, just so you appreciate what you’re missing. Christ, I’m rationed to two mouthfuls, even from my own girlfriend—and he has to watch.’ He licked my throat. ‘Bet he’s getting his rocks off right now, watching me drool over sweet sidhe blood, knowing I can’t have even a drop.’


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