Page 21 of A Sip of Sin

One thing that this century did well was the beds.

Rhys fumbled in the dark, skipping a step or two before the lights flickered on again. As Munro slipped past him, Rhys reached for his hair, grasping the tie and ripping it free. His hair sprang forth from its bonds with nearly as much enthusiasm as Rhys himself. Drunken fingers combed through it, tugging at the strands until Munro grasped a handful of it, slipping it in front of his shoulder so it dragged down his chest.

“Relax, Covi.” Rhys giggled, saliva shining over his lips. “You are going to reward me. You’ll give me anything I want.”

Munro raised one brow, refusing to back down. “What you’re asking for is a privilege—one you haven’t earned.”

“I noticed you haven’t been yourself,” said Rhys, winking as they reached the end of the hall. It was darkest here, and Munro strained his eyes to keep Rhys locked in his sights.

Rhys paused at the door, his palm over the surface. “So, I got you a gift. I brought it in the back so you wouldn’t see, because I wanted it to be a surprise.” He giggled, the sound tinkling in the gloom.

Dread filled his core, his skin prickling. The last time Rhys had been this drunk, he’d tried to feed from a shifter. The pack had threatened to kill him when they found out, and Munro had barely been able to negotiate a truce. It had left a bitter stain on an already-strained relationship.

Munro nodded, reaching for the door, but Rhys stopped him with a hand on his chest. He seemed to sober, the mirth draining from his eyes as a distant light flickered, casting a glow over them. “I need to show you something first.”

A growl nearly burst from his throat as they were plunged into darkness again, Rhys patting at his pants and retrieving a small black phone. It was one piece of technology that had surprised Munro with the fierceness that it had taken over.

“Just get this over with, Rhys.” Munro huffed, shifting. The walls were too close tonight, the buzzing of the lights going directly to his thoughts. A distant scent caught his nose that had been haunting him for weeks. If he closed his eyes, he could almost taste the phantom drops of Hollen on his tongue, the vermillion curling over his tastebuds and filling him to the brim.

Rhys flashed him a smile as he lit up his phone, tapping against the keys. “Patience. This will be worth the wait.” Rhys turned the phone toward him. “Just watch.”

The sudden sound was jarring in the quiet space, the low quality of it scraping against his ears. It was dark and blurry, the video shaking as it pointed at a familiar sight across a barely lit street. Shouts sounded in the background, a voice echoing over and over.“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”

“How did this get missed?” asked Munro, grabbing the phone and bringing it closer. Even with the poor quality, he could spot a figure in the shadows, clearly drinking from the neck of an obviously unwilling victim.Why aren’t they hypnotized?

The vampire didn’t seem to know they were being watched, drinking until the victim’s struggles ceased and they went limp. After licking their lips, the vampire dropped their meal, the victim slumping against a nearby fence before crumpling to the ground. He couldn’t tell if their chest was still moving.

The video went dark before starting over, the same shouts and scene repeating before his eyes.

Rhys shut the screen off, shoving it back into his pocket. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you.” He moved in close, breathing deep as he dragged his nose along Munro’s throat. “We can’t stop all of them, even with the best algorithms in the world. This one has a thousand views so far and is growing. It will probably hit two thousand before it’s noticed and taken down. But those thousand will spread the word, sharing and re-sharing this clip faster than we can stop it.”

Not this again.“And so, what if that happens?” Munro hardened his resolve, placing a hand on Rhys’ chest. “I can remember a time when we weregods, Rhys. You were young then, but don’t you remember the worship? Perhaps it’s time for that to happen again.”

Rhys drew back, grasping Munro’s shoulders hard. “You know we aren’t gods.” He looked over his shoulder as if expecting someone to be there, ready to strike him down. Munro could picture any shifter or faerie settling that score with one blow. “Saying something like that could get us all killed.”

If only you knew.Munro dug his nails into Rhys’ chest, nudging him away. “Is that what this is all about? I’m guessing you killed the one who took the video. Vengeance is sweet.”

There were so many better places he could be right now. The last thing he wanted was another body from when Rhys got too excited and lost control. He knew every good place to hide one…and the bads ones.

“I brought you the one who started all this mess,” said Rhys, finally pulling away and reaching for the door. “This video only launched yesterday, but it’s not the only one. Someone is planting them—hoping they’ll spread across the world. Only someone with inside information could do that.”

Munro’s gut sank as Rhys parted the door, exposing the warmth of the chamber. It was deserted save one man who was sprawled across the table, the iciness of magic tinting his lips blue. His heart stuttered as he pushed past Rhys, the video and all danger forgotten.

Lying on the table, with his face pale and his hair haloed across the surface, was Hollen. His cheeks were stark, his lips taking on a blueish hue as the heat was drawn from his body. The table had never been meant for someone so weak, built to end vampires such as himself. He’d watched men go insane froma simple touch, but this was the second time Hollen had been trapped upon the surface, his eyes closed now as if in sleep.

Am I too late?Munro took a step, a low growl rumbling in his throat. The blood on Rhys’ teeth and the paleness of Hollen’s cheeks had his heart beating fast, his lips parting as he crossed the space in a few leaping strides. It couldn’t be Hollen’s blood. He would have smelled it…right?

“I found him working in a club, and I followed him into an alley. He was too easy to take—barely even a challenge, really.” Rhys stepped toward the table, stroking Hollen’s cheek. Hollen didn’t stir. It was hard to see if his chest was rising beneath his clothes. The T-shirt and black jeans clung to his skin, the taint of alcohol and sweat a lacquered coat.

“Is he…dead?” asked Munro, fighting the strange fluttering in his gut. He barely knew Hollen, but he’d thought about him nearly every moment since they’d met, even the dark times when he should have been resting. But now he looked so lifeless, his blood cooled and that stubborn attitude silent.

There was nothing in the air—no allure—but still Munro wanted him. He needed those eyes to flutter open and catch his gaze, a warm hand reaching for him. Munro was frozen, unable to reach out with Rhys touching Hollen, stroking his limp wrist before moving to his face.

“Soon,” said Rhys, sweeping a few strands of hair back from Hollen’s forehead. “I thought you would want the honors. You seemed enthralled by him—by his blood.”

Munro pushed Rhys to the side, carefully scooping Hollen off the table and bringing him into his arms. His fingers scraped against the freezing surface, sending a bolt of icy rigidity up his arm from the quick touch. The pain curled around his fingertips, settling deep into his nerves.

Hollen was nearly as bad as the table, so cold that he sucked the warmth from Munro’s skin in an instant, replacing it withsuch a deep ache that it stole his breath. He didn’t flinch away, instead holding Hollen against his chest tighter, willing the warmth into his limbs.

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