Page 26 of The Veil of Blood and Magic

Sirius nods, squeezing my shoulders before releasing me. “You need to feed,” he says, loud enough for Jagger to hear as I walk toward him. “Now.” He flicks his fingers, a colorful shot of magic hitting the ink on my wrist. “You can’t leave without doing it.”

I part my lips. “Cheater,” I fire at his back as he walks to his room.

“Winner,” he says, then shuts the door behind him.

I glance at one of his guards. “Where are the mortal donors located tonight?” I ask.

“They’re—”

“Not necessary, dove,” Jagger cuts over the guard, standing swiftly from the couch and sliding his fingers around my wrist.

“You heard Sirius,” I say, looking up at him. “I can’t leave without feeding. No matter how badly you and Zev want to get back on the road.”

“I heard him,” he says before eying the guard behind me. “Where is that private suite we talked about?”

I furrow my brow as the guard explains, then Jagger tugs me past the ropes and through the crowd, stopping once we’vereached the door the guard indicated. It’s one of Sirius’s rooms he rents out to travelers who need to stay for more than a night.

“What are you doing, Jagger?” I ask as he swings open the door and pulls me inside.

Anticipation flares in my chest.

“I don’t want you out of my sight again,” he says, shutting and locking the door behind him.

I swallow hard. “I didn’t run.”

“I know,” he says. “I worried about you. I didn’t like it.”

I arch a brow at him, folding my arms over my chest. “You’re worried about your meal ticket.”

“Can you blame me?”

I shrug, I suppose not. Not when I’m using them the same way they’re using me.

“Locking me in a room won’t make the magic command wear off,” I say, holding up my wrist to show the glowing ink. “I have to feed?—”

“You will, dove.” Jagger crosses the room in two large strides, fingers dragging over my wrist to pull me close, a look of pure mischief on his face. “Fromme.”

Chapter 7

Livana

Jagger’s words clang through me, my hunger awakening at his bold claim.

“What?” It’s the only word I can work past the ache in my throat.

Goddess, I’m thirsty.

Jagger’s thumb grazes the underside of my wrist, causing heat to streak through my veins at the move. “You heard me.”

I did.

I heard him loud and as clear as I can hear his heart beating in his chest. As clear as I can taste his pulsing desire, all autumn spices dancing along each of my nerve endings. He wants me. He wants me so badly.

And I can’t deny how much I want him in return. But…

“That’s not a good idea,” I say, tugging my wrist free and backing up a few paces so I can breathe.

Sirius’s rentable suites are almost as ornately decorated as his private chambers—all filled with lush furniture—including a four-poster bed tucked against a wall decorated with rich velvet curtains of maroon and royal blue. Art adorns the walls gilded in decorative frames, this room displaying a floral theme, the maincenterpiece being a painting of the petals of flame—an indigo flower that glows bright blue under the moonlight.

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