Page 45 of Hot Blooded

“I know you’ve lost your sire. I can help you, but you have to calm down.” He managed to flip the struggling thrall onto his back, pinning his wrists beside his head. His skin was icy cold, as thralls typically were. The bones in his pale face were all too prominent, his eyes sunken and dull. Still, whoever he was, he’d been a young man when Markov had turned him, whatever time period that had been. The poor creature could be hundreds of years older than Amos, but was still hardly any stronger than a mortal.

The thrall managed to get one hand free. He clutched at Amos’s jacket, trying to shove him away. Amos kept him pinned with his full weight. The thrall bucked, trying to headbutt Amos, but their awkward positioning made it so that he ineffectively thunked his forehead against Amos’s chest.

The thrall froze. Face pressed into the V where Amos’s jacket opened, he inhaled deeply. He inhaled again. A low, broken purr rattled in his throat.

Ah, Christ, Amos thought warily. When they lost their sire or dam, thralls were known to fixate on an unrelated vampire. It was a survival instinct for creatures who could not exist without a protector and caretaker.

“Listen,” Amos said gently, “I’m not going to turn you. But if you’ll come with me, the Council can help you. If you want to be fully turned, they’ll find someone who’ll—”

The front door to the house they were sprawled in front of suddenly swung open. “Who the fuck are you?” a woman’s voice demanded sharply.

Caught off guard, both by the thrall’s apparent docility and the sudden appearance of the mortal woman, Amos suddenly found himself thrown onto his back. The thrall was on his feet, lightning-quick, hurtling the fence and racing down the sidewalk.

The woman silhouetted in the doorway gasped at the thrall’s inhuman speed. She jerked back, slamming the door shut. The deadbolt clicked decisively.

Amos got to his feet, giving chase, but it was no use. The thrall was out of sight, his scent masked by the scents of the city. The impending sunrise itched at Amos’s mind. Honoring his promise to Tessa, he returned home before the sun came up.

Chapter 12

After breakfast with Ma, Tessa got up to go to bed.

“Just so you can’t say I didn’t give you any warning, Aunt Louisa needs your help this afternoon.”

Tessa paused at the bottom of the stairs. Dreading the answer, she asked, “What time?”

“She needs you at her house at two.”

“Two?” Tessa asked, rubbing wearily at her face.

“Yes,” Ma answered impatiently, brows drawing together in a scowl. “Two.”

“Ma, you know I sleep til five.”

Ma threw her hands out, eyes wide in an expression of total exasperation. “You’re always sleeping! And what does it matter, anyway? You don’t have to work tonight. You can catch up on sleep later.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tessa muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. To Ma, she said, “You’re going to have to tell Aunt Louisa you made a mistake. Tell her I can be there around six. What does she even need?”

“She needs your help doing her medicare forms. She doesn’t understand them. And no, you have to go at two. She’s got dinner at the Casino with her friends tonight.”

Tessa didn’t bother explaining that just because she was a nurse didn’t mean she knew the ins and outs of medical billing and insurance plans. She’d tried explaining that at least a hundred times to various relatives, and friends of relatives, and neighbors of relatives, and none of them ever seemed capable of accepting that information.

Instead, she said, “I’m sorry, you’re telling me I have to break up my sleep schedule because Aunt Louisa needs to go lose fifty bucks on slot machines tonight?”

“She’s an old woman! She can’t have a few guilty pleasures? She can’t go out now and then with friends?”

“I never fucking said that!” Tessa snarled back.

Instantly ashamed of herself for losing her temper, she pressed her fingers against her temples, screwing her eyes shut. She drew in a deep breath. When she looked up, Ma was standing with her arms folded in front of her, one hand clutching her robe closed at the throat, her face the perfect picture of dignified affront.

“Look,” Tessa said tersely, but calmly, “I’m not saying Aunt Louisa can’t do whatever the hell she wants. But that doesn’t mean I have to rework my schedule around hers. If she needs help—”

“Fine,” Ma snapped, jaw setting stubbornly. “You have her number. Call her up and tell her you’re too busy to make sure she’s got medical coverage.”

Tessa pressed at her temples again. “You know I’m not going to do that.”

“Then why are we even having this conversation?”

Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? The edges of Tessa’s vision grew dark, narrowing down to tunnels as her heart started to race. A detached part of her mind recognized that she was having a panic attack. That, or she was dying. It really felt like she was dying.

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