Page 47 of A Sip of Sin

George took a step, pressing the toe of his shoe into the back of Rhys’ hand. “Test me, little vampire. Please do. Any excuse for a bit of fun is fine by me.”

“George, please take us home,”said Hollen, his voice still mute in his own head. He was getting quieter, muffled by the pounding of George’s presence.“Adair will be worried.”

George paused, tilting his head. “He has a point.” His breath steamed as he exhaled, made of smoke instead of air. “We’ll be off. Stay out of trouble, little vampire.”

When he reached the end of the alley, he paused, looking over his shoulder. Rhys was choking in his own blood, his eyes burning with pure rage. “And if you don’t—? Well…you know where to find me.”

Chapter Eighteen

Hollen

He slipped in and out of consciousness as George used his body to walk them home, the skip in his step a stark contrast to the sticky blood on his fingers. Every few minutes George would hold up one fang to the light, a smile on his lips as he stared at the stained surface.

Hollen couldn’t help the nausea that clawed at his throat, but George seemed to be able to dismiss it as easily as he ignored Hollen’s weak thoughts. A few times Hollen had tried to speak as tears welled up, but George blinked them away with a satisfied hum.

Adair was waiting for them when they got home, his smile faltering as they stepped through the door. Darkness had spread over every part of Hollen’s skin with scrawled tattoos and mysterious symbols. The blood seemed to almost glow against the canvas of his flesh, the four white jewels of teeth stark in his palm.

“Hollen, oh my God.” Adair’s eyes went wide as he clutched at his pajama shirt. He was ready for bed, his shirt loose and slipping off one shoulder and his shorts ending just below his ass. He was vulnerable, a bruise on his thigh that he’d probably picked up from dancing—hopefully.

Hollen tried to avert his eyes, a flush rising to his cheeks for no reason at all, but George stopped the movement. He swept any glimpse of control away, staring with no shame at all.

“Hollen?” Adair caught his gaze, whatever he saw making him take a step back. “You aren’t Hollen.”

“No, I’m not,” said George, his voice rumbling in the kitchen. It had to be some sort of magic that made it so deep, even though he was sharing Hollen’s vocal cords.

Adair took another step, pressing his back against the wall. Hollen had never seen terror like that etched over his features, his chest cracking wider at the sight. He’d already ruined one relationship today. He couldn’t do that a second time.

Hollen thrust ahead, trying to gain control, but George swatted him aside easily.

“I brought you a gift.” George opened his palm, the four sticky teeth resting in the center. Bright vermillion had dried dark, flaking bits falling to the floor.

Adair covered his mouth, retching. He turned, stumbling against the wall as he fled toward the direction of the shared bathroom.

“Huh.” George glanced at his hand, rolling the teeth around. The pulp was thick, the roots dwarfing the sharp tips that Rhys had probably used thousands of times. Thick satisfaction curled in his shared gut when he looked at them, even as Hollen continued to struggle.

Stop.Hollen tried—he truly did—but George just shook his head, closing his hand into a fist as he followed Adair.

*****

George

Adair was bent over the toilet, his hair strewn about his face and his sides heaving as whatever was in his stomach hit thebowl. From the smell, it must’ve been something deplorable, like pizza.

“I thought you would have had a stronger stomach than Hollen.” George dropped the teeth into the garbage, having to flick one from his palm when it stuck to a layer of congealed blood. They hit the bottom of the can with the strangest sound of rock and glass.

Sweat stuck to his skin in the close room, the scent of tea and fresh bread still clinging to him. He curled his lip, pulling at his clothes as Adair continued to heave. He flicked on the shower before dropping the stark uniform to the floor next to Adair, stepping beneath the lukewarm spray.

“That’s better.” George tilted his head into the spray, letting the scents roll off his skin. The tattoos were stretched across every part of him, each telling a story that hardly anyone alive could recall, let aloneread.He’d never regretted them, gritting his teeth against the pain of each one as it was burned into his flesh.

Steam swirled in the air, and he reached for the tap, turning off the flow of water and standing in the small, curtained shower. Water dripped in the drain, overshadowed by Adair’s deep breaths. The heaving had stopped.

George stepped out, his skin prickling in the cold as goosebumps rose on his skin. The overheat fan kicked on, drowning out the sound of Adair’s whimper as he clutched the porcelain bowl.

Adair stared at him with wide eyes as he panted, his eyes streaked red. “You— Where’s Hollen?”

Hollen tried to speak up, desperate to get to his friend, but it was no use. He fell deeper into the swirling mass of darkness in his chest, buried beneath layers of exhaustion. George greeted him there with open arms, wrapping him in something soft that anchored him.

George kept his lips sealed, blinking as he smothered the last bit of Hollen’s presence for the moment. It would just be like being trapped in a soundproofed room, his legs and arms bound and away from his control with any sounds sinking into the walls. Only, Hollen could stillfeeleverything, including the water dripping down his back and the coolness of the tiles against his feet.

---