Page 28 of Pain

He studied me, then my mates, for a long moment. Long enough that I started to squirm a little under his intense scrutiny. His gaze flicked down to where my sweater had slipped off the pommel of Moloch’s Sacrifice and his pale-blue eyes widened for a moment, but nothing else on his face moved. “You’re his heir,” he whispered.

“Can we find somewhere to talk, Mr. Jol?”

His nod was small, then he jerked his chin toward the door we had just come through. “My place is not too far. We’ll be safe fromeavesdroppers there.”

“You just going to let that mutt blast a hole through Tanen?” another demon asked as Kenvin stepped around us toward the door.

“He threw the first punch,” Kenvin said, not bothering to stop or turn back. “His mistake picking a fight with a stronger opponent.” Then he pushed through the swinging door, not bothering to hold it open for us, and we followed him back out into the street.

“You okay?” I asked, sidling up to Zandren, who looked a little worse for wear.

He nodded. “Just need to lie down for a bit. My head is killing me.”

Drak was stoic—as per usual—but he, too, looked exhausted. The dark circles beneath his eyes were near black. He needed to feed.

I held my wrist up in front of his face. “Don’t drink it all, but have a sip. You look like you need it.”

His blue gaze slid to me, and he gently pushed away my hand. “I’m fine.”

“The fuck you are,” I snapped back. “Drink, goddammit.”

The war he was fighting within was written across his face. He knew he needed to feed. He lost a lot of blood. He was weak. This would help. But he didn’t want to admit that he needed help, that he wasn’t fine. That he wasn’t strong. He was still healing from the ambush at the portal entry, not to mention the heat stroke from the desert. He needed this.

Growling, I swung my wrist over to Zandren’s face. “Please use a fang and pierce a vein.”

He looked at me like I was crazy.

I rolled my eyes. “Pooh Bear, please.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes, but he acquiesced, being as gentle as possible. He had nearly broken the skin when Drak snapped. “Fine!”

I smirked and whipped around, holding my wrist in front of the vampire again. “Drink.”

“I’ll wait until we get to where we’re going.”

“Fine!” I mimicked.

Two doors up and Kenvin turned and headed down a narrow alleyway, took a left down another alleyway, and finally came to a dark-blue door. He openedit and didn’t wait for us to funnel in first before entering.

I was definitely not expecting the opulence and luxury within, given the ramshackle conditions of the exterior. I could tell my mates weren’t either.

“Drink?” Kenvin murmured, stepping behind a polished wooden bar riddled with glittering bottles of various spirits on tiered shelves behind him.

“Water,” all four of us said at once.

I found a spot on the plush brown leather couch and indicated Drak sit next to me. I handed over my wrist and after giving me some side eye, he held it gently, punctured it with his fangs, and began to feed.

Heat and pleasure filled me from head to toe, and even more pleasure emerged when I watched the color return to Drak’s face. He closed his eyes and moaned, which made me smile.

He didn’t feed long—which I was grateful for, since if he continued any longer, I may have inconveniently had an orgasm. Why did it feel so good to have my blood drawn like that?

After a moment, he pulled his mouth from my wrist, swept his tongue over the puncture marks to seal them, and pressed his lips together in a small, forced smile. “Thank you.”

I stood up. “May I use your washroom, Mr. Jol?”

The surly demon was still standing behind his bar, having watched the whole blood-sucking thing with veiled interest. He grunted and nodded. “Third door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

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