Page 40 of Blood Match

“Darick?” he calls, concern lacing his tone. “Are you alright? The staff said you had some kind of…episode.”

I hesitate, unsure if I can face him in this state. But if anyone can help me make sense of this, it’s Marcus.

“Come in,” I rasp, my voice hoarse with thirst. It shouldn’t be having this effect on me – there’s been more than one time in my life that I’ve had to go without feeding for this long. It’s never pretty, but something is different this time.

You’re desperate.

I push the thought aside.

The door opens, and Marcus steps into the room, his eyes widening as he takes in the chaos of my study and my disheveled appearance.

“What happened?” he asks, closing the door behind him.

I meet his gaze, forcing myself to keep mine steady. “Thought I’d do some research.”

He runs a look around the room. Books are scattered everywhere, pages of notes discarded on the floor. “Research?”

I lean against my desk, trying to appear casual and failing dismally. “It’s getting worse, Marcus.”

He raises an eyebrow. “The Bloodbane?”

I nod, clenching my jaw. “I tried more of the stored blood. My reaction was…extreme.”

Marcus’s expression remains neutral, but I catch the flicker of concern in his eyes. “You know what this means, Darick. Those afflicted by the Bane…they don’t tend to fare well within their clans.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I snap, then immediately regret it. “Sorry. I’m just…”

“On edge?” Marcus offers drily. “Understandable, given the circumstances.”

I run a hand around the back of my neck, massaging tight muscles there. “I can’t let this threaten my position. The clan needs strong leadership, especially with Lucien stirring up trouble.”

Marcus nods, his tone matter-of-fact. “True. But you can’t lead if you’re starving. We need to find a solution.”

“I know.” I turn away, unable to meet his gaze. The memory of that scent, the intoxicating pull of her sweet blood, floods my senses. I want to tell him, to confide in my oldest friend. But the words stick in my throat.

“What aren’t you telling me?” He knows me too well.

“Nothing,” I lie, making my way to my desk and sinking into my seat. I slump back in it, trying not to look defeated.

“Darick,” Marcus says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever you’re holding back, it might help us figure this out.”

I close my eyes, torn between the need for secrecy and the desire for help. When I open them again, I see Marcus watching me, patient and loyal as always.

“There’s something else,” I begin, then hesitate. How much can I reveal without raising uncomfortable questions? If I can hear her thoughts, she can hear mine. Has she overheard clan plans?

Fuck!

I can understand why she reacted so badly when she heard me in her thoughts. She’s given me a clear path into their most secret places. But I’ve done the same to her.

“Something else?” Marcus presses.

I stare back at him. “I—” I begin, but I’m cut off by a sharp knock at the door. Dammit. “Yes?” I call.

“Lord Drake.” Sebastian, my principal manservant, walks in. “You have a guest.”

“Who is it, Sebastian?” I respond, already having a sinking feeling. Sebastian’s lip is curled in distaste.

“Lord Marlowe. Would you like me to send him away?” Sebastian looks like he’d be delighted to do it.

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