Page 3 of Blood Match

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die on my tongue. If I’m honest with myself, the thought of blood has been…unsettling lately. Even nauseating. “I… I don’t know,” I admit reluctantly. “I just haven’t felt like it.”

Marcus’s face grows somber, his usual joviality nowhere to be seen. “Darick, I think… I think this might be something serious.”

“You don’t say,” I scoff. “Last time I’m letting you pick out a blood groupie for me.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He frowns. I can tell there’s something he’s afraid to say.

“Spit it out, Marcus.” I lean my head back against the cool bricks, feeling the agony finally ebb away. That was fucked up.

“I think this might be the Bloodbane,” my friend says quickly.

“No.” The denial is immediate, instinctive. “That’s impossible. It must be something else. Maybe she was on drugs, or—”

“Stop.” Marcus cuts me off, his voice uncharacteristically stern. “You need to face this. If it is the Bloodbane, you…you know what that means. This is a big fucking problem.”

The gravity of his words hits me like a dash of ice water. I feel a cold dread settling in the pit of my stomach. “There has to be another explanation,” I insist, but my voice lacks conviction.

Marcus sighs heavily. “There is a solution, you know. We both know what it is.”

I bristle at the implication, anger flaring hot and bright. “No. Absolutely not. I refuse to accept this. There has to be another way.”

But even as I say the words, I know that he’s right. And there is no other way.

1

Chapter 1

Rowan

“Just one little spell. No biggie. I’ve got this.” I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves as I gather the ingredients. My cottage feels smaller than usual, cluttered with magical artifacts and spell books that suddenly make me feel like a fraud.

Imposter syndrome much?

“Come on, Rowan,” I mutter to myself, “you can do this. It’s just a simple protection charm. Easy peasy.”

Poppy scampers across the table, knocking over a vial of crushed lavender. “Oops! Sorry, not sorry,” she chirps, her bushy tail twitching with excitement. “Are you sure you want to use lavender? What about some nice acorns instead?”

I roll my eyes. “Poppy, for the last time, acorns aren’t a substitute for every magical ingredient.”

“Says you,” she retorts, climbing up my arm to perch on my shoulder. “I still think they’re underrated.”

“That’s because you’re a squirrel.” I huff out a breath, looking around. “You always think acorns are underrated.”

Poppy ignores me. “Oh! Don’t forget the moonstone. It’s under that pile of books you knocked over yesterday.”

“You knocked them over. And that pile of books happens to be the way I earn my living,” I grumble, grateful I took a moment to tidy the bookkeeping ledgers that take up half of my dining room table.

“Me. You. Same thing.” Poppy is remorseless, eyeing me as I fumble through the piles of paperwork. “If that moonstone were a snake, it would’ve bit you, filed your taxes, and gone on vacation by now. I can see it right under that black file.”

“Thanks,” I grumble, fishing out the smooth, iridescent stone. “At least you’re good for something.”

Poppy swats the back of my head. “I’m good for lots of things. Like reminding you that your client will be here in five minutes, and you haven’t even lit the candles yet.”

“Crap!” I scramble to arrange the candles in a circle, my hands shaking slightly as I light each one. “Why did I agree to this? I’m going to mess it up, just like always.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that.” Poppy’s tone softens. “You’ve got this. Just…maybe don’t set anything on fire this time?”

I snort, despite my anxiety. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

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