Page 5 of Make Me Bleed

“Hi, Gilda. Is everything okay?”

“Depends,” is her reply. “We have your witch in custody.”

I blink, positive I heard her wrong. “Mywhat?”

However, when my former colleague launches into an explanation, I realize that: No. No, I did not hear her wrong.

Because, to my shock, Gilda reveals that Bridget is a witch—afirewitch—and she’s in trouble.

And that’s all I need to hear.

CHAPTER 1

INTERVENTION

DYEA, ALASKA

THREE MONTHS LATER

I’m so thirsty, fighting a wolf shifter almost seems like a brilliant idea.

Almost.

For centuries, wolves and vamps have been mortal enemies. It was like that long before the initial battle of the Claws and Fangs war, a never-ending skirmish between both of our kinds. Vampires think of wolf shifters as little better than beasts. Wolf shifters consider us ‘corpses’, whether we’re turned vampires or not. Both supernaturally gifted and hard to kill, maybe it was inevitable that we would clash.

I wouldn’t know. Until I followed Bridget to the hidden supernatural sanctuary up north, I’ve never met a wolf shifter. They’re not allowed in Clarity, and up until I requested to go with Bridget, I’ve never left the Fang City.

There was a lot to get used to in Alaska. My instinctive reaction to Conall Hunt’s glower as he and Mayor Lou firstgreeted Bridget and me is one of them. I’d wanted to hiss and show him my fangs when I sensed his wild beast prowling around inside of him, and only seventy-four years of concealing my vampire side in front of humans had me nodding demurely at the head of security who seemed instantly drawn to Bridget.

Then I met a handful of the solitary vampires who hide up here with their human donors, and that was worse than realizing a lone wolf is responsible for keeping the prey shifters, vamps, and humans living in the small sanctuary safe.

There is no Cadre here. No community, either.

Noblood.

Bridget had no choice but to leave Clarity for Alaska. Once she conjured in the Fang City, Thorn refused to let her stay in his territory. He arranged for Bridge to meet with the head of the nearest coven, but it seems as though her type of magic is so unique, even they were hesitant to accept her before my friend got her powers under control.

Considering what happened to the first person who triggered her fire, I understood why they were eager to ship her away from the East Coast in favor of hiding her in the former ghost town-turned-sanctuary…

Me, though? I had my own reasons to join her in Dyea, the biggest being that Peter wouldn’t be able to chase me past the sanctuary’s mystical borders. Plus, a vampire hiding from a human who can’t accept that he isn’t her beloved gave a great cover story to the ‘human’ woman who came along to be my blood donor. Bridget could conceal her witchiness, and I could avoid my relentless stalker.

It sounded like a great plan—until I realized there’s a very real reason why vampires in Dyea bring their donors with them. There aren’t any free veins to tap unless you want to grovel and ask one of the prey shifters. Drinking from another vamp’sdonor just isn’t done, so the other humans in Dyea are definitely off-limits to me. No blood bags, either, or blood banks.

No blood for me…

It’s been three months. I tried drinking Bridget once, before she knew she was Conall’s fated mate, and the fire in her veins burned my tongue. I haven’t tried again, convincing myself that—eventually—one of the blood deliveries that Thorn has shipped for me from Clarity to Dyea would arrive.

He’s already confirmed that three were sent, and three were marked delivered by the vampire courier. A fourth is supposedly on its way, but I’m not holding my breath. None of the deliveries have reached Dyea, Conall confirmed for me, and the thirst has gotten so bad lately, not even drinking from the dead prey animals the wolf hunted to feed his mate is slaking the worst of it.

I thought I was getting better at hiding it. A nip there, a sip there, I close my eyes and pretend like snowshoe hare is the finest O. Just enough to keep my throat from aching, my stomach from cramping, and my fangs from digging into my bottom lip.

But Bridget… she knows me better than anyone in Dyea. She might not quite understand the intricacies of having a vampire best friend, but she can tell I’m basically starving only with the thirst, and she’s dragged her mate to my house to stage an intervention.

At least, that’s what she called it when she let herself inside the front door, Conall at her heels like the lapdog that he is around his forever mate. His flat expression tells me that he’d rather be anywhere but here. At the same time, he insists on going wherever Bridget goes so I’m not surprised he’s standing in the corner of the front room, arms crossed over his chest, eyeing me closely.

Then again, considering I have Bridget’s pale wrist shoved under my nose, I also don’t blame him…

“Drink.”

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