Page 15 of My Blood Is Yours

If my stomach wasn’t roiling, I might be in awe of the crystalline jar glowing a pale blue that is quite obviously magical in some way.

“You want me to cut out a chunk of hisflesh?”

Evandriel heaves a sigh. “Unless you want Forsythe to come and put another bullet in his brain so he can collect it himself, I suggest you get comfortable with blood.”

At my pained silence, he continues, lifting a large, needled syringe. “Which is precisely what these are for. Come here.”

Chains rattle as Sariel steps forward as if to stop me, but I’m already closing the distance between Evandriel and myself. He rolls up his sleeve, revealing a thickly muscled forearm. Between thumb and forefinger, he lifts a rubber tourniquet. “Wrap thistightly just above the elbow, and the veins will reveal themselves. Choose a prominent one. Like so?—”

Dropping the tourniquet, he flexes his arm, and the veins rise. He prods a thick forefinger at the largest one in the crook of his elbow. “Apply the alcohol to the skin, then gently insert the tip of the needle to the sterilized area, about 2 millimeters in, and carefully pull the plunger until the barrel of the syringe has been filled.Then…”

Evandriel grins, mischief twinkling in his eyes, as if this is all some big joke to him, and it makes my hatred for this male burn even brighter. Reaching for another glowing pot, he holds it aloft, waggling his cursed eyebrows.

“La pièce de résistance.”

My eyes narrow. They don’t exactly teach French on the streets of London, and he damn well knows it.

The words are growled with annoyance. “The what?”

Evandriel chuckles. “The semen sample.”

I train my expression to remain neutral, even if internally, I’m now squealing my delight despite our twisted circumstances.

Perhaps I am more of a monster than I’d previously thought myself. Even so, a certain protectiveness rises within me.

“What the fuck could he possibly want with a semen sample?”

Evandriel’s expression settles into something thoughtful, as though genuinely considering my question.

“Well for one, blood and tissue samples can only provide somatic DNA, whereas semen will provide germline DNA, along with unique epigenetic markers, specialized genetic markers—which is what I imagine Forsythe has a personal interest in—and of course, the seminal plasma which would provide unparalleled insight into the epimorphic regeneration—the rapid healing.”

I don’t bother to mask my shock at his insight. Clearly, I’ve thoroughly underestimated this man. And the fact he has sothoroughly hidden such keen intelligence under the guise of a brute only makes it all the more unsettling. It also makes me realize, this is the most I’ve ever spoken to him.

Evandriel gives me a knowing smirk but chooses to keep the subject on the tasks at hand.

“You may collect the semen however you wish, which will conclude your final task. Savvy?”

I don’t bother to mask my scowl. If Sariel’s semen belongs to anyone it’s-fucking-me. My reply is spoken through gritted teeth.“Yes.”

“Excellent. There’s some clothes here once you finish,” Evandriel points at what appears to be a thick black pile of clothing. I’m not entirely sure how we’re supposed to get Sariel’s dirty ones off and the clean ones on while Sariel’s in manacles, but I don’t bother to ask.

Evandriel turns to face Sariel, and something like electricity—so dense I can taste it in the air—crackles over my skin. In the next moment, Sariel is naked. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch. The only indication he’s even noticed is the low growl that leaves his throat. I, however, gasp in shock—both at the display of magic and, despite trying my best not to lower my eyes, the sight of Sariel’s cock.

While I’ve seen it countless times in my dreams, seeing it in real life issomuch better.

Evandriel’s eyes openly ogle Sariel, brows lifting.

“Good for you, mate.”

He turns and strides out of the cell, shutting the door behind him. I don’t miss the knowing glint in his eyes.

“Take your time. The doctor will be leaving shortly to teach his classes and visit his patients. I have my own work to attend to in the morgue and a great many errands to run…things to prepare for.”

Evandriel’s eyes study me keenly, and I can’t help the sinking dread I feel at those last words. I don’t have it in me to askwhatit is he has to prepare for.

“Those containers will keep everything preserved in the meantime. Forsythe will retrieve you this evening. I’ll return tomorrow.”

ELOWEN

---