Page 10 of By the Pint

“You still want me to go to the bloodbath?” I opened the book at random and began thumbing through the pages. And yep, inside there were more ‘photos’ of Dima, much the same as the one on the cover. As though his fae friend had found a decent image and had then smashed ‘generate more’ eleven million times.

Back at Chez Killian, the party noise picked up a notch. Light flooded the shelves in the scrying mirror as though someone had opened the pantry door. “Yes! Do what you must, bestie,” Killian said, presumably to me. I rolled my eyes. “You may find it easier to get what you need when he lowers his control. If you know what I mean?”

“Claus, no!” another male voice yelled. “Not there—”

But I was no longer paying attention, because I’d found it. Dima’s nude. He hadn’t been lying. A full-page glossy ‘photo’ showed the vampire naked except for a strategically placed patchwork quilting hoop. He was smiling, obviously, but my eye was drawn to his slim yet sculpted chest, his defined biceps, his abs, and down further still to that perfect, inviting, veined happy valley. I swallowed.

It’s not real. It’s AI. Get a fucking grip.

“I gotta go,” Killian shouted through the mirror. “It’s getting messy. Not! … No, it’s not getting messy. Shit. I’ll fix it all, don’t worry. Report back when you have more info. Okay? Okay, love you, bye.” And then he hung up.

I blew out a breath and then returned to my reflection.

You may find it easier to get what you need when he lowers his control. If you know what I mean?

I knew exactly what he meant. Killian had never made that part difficult to decipher.

Seduce Dima Black. Forcefully extract his secrets.

I considered my options for half a second.

Challenge accepted.

4.

Dima

I do not need to have a one-night stand with the super-hot mind reading human.

I do not need that kind of drama.

This was what I told myself, on repeat, since getting back to my hotel room at Dreadmourne Castle. Just a standard single room. Smallish telly, coffin, wooden blinds, oversized taxidermy arctic-bearskin for a rug, ensuite bathroom with a shower-thingy attached to the taps over a rolltop iron bath. But the room was fine for its purpose. Back in the day, humans thought iron would ward against vampires. Stupid really, since blood was practically made of iron.

I continued my float pacing and my mantra repeating.

Don’t sleep with him. Don’t kiss him. Don’t put any part of your body inside his. Or vice versa.

Okay, the mind reading human was more ripped than the gods, and his face could strip Jago the Hauntingly Attractiveof his title, and he was human, and alive, and warm. And damn damn damn did I want to feel that warmth wrapped around me?

But I didn’t do one-night stands. Don’t do them.

For two reasons.

The first being, it didn’t matter how gorgeous, cute, fuckable they were, I still could not turn off their thoughts.

Sometimes it would work in my favour.A little to the left. Up a bit. Faster. Harder. Hurt me, daddy.Those were the kinds of thoughts I could put up with. But for the most part, I’d have to deal with the fifteen to forty-five minutes of analysis over every ministration and stroke, see whomever else’s face they’d transplanted onto mine, and witness whatever debased mini movie they’d play inside their head to get themselves closer.

Not that I would kink shame, but I just didn’t think I’d ever be into indulging someone’s watersports fantasies.

The second reason, the big one; I couldn’t seem to stop myself from wanting more.

There were only a handful of bodily systems that continued to function after a person became undead. I might no longer breathe, or digest solids, but my heart still beat fiercely in my chest. Like it was on double-time. As though it was making up for the other defunct human systems not pulling their weight.

And I had a habit of leading every decision with it.

My stupid heart. Held together by only quilting thread and fabric glue, and yet so susceptible to crashing headfirst towards even the tiniest glimpse of happiness.

Weren’t vampires supposed to be cold-blooded killers?

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