Page 48 of Dark Flame
I hate it. Hate that it affected me at all. Hate that I had a million and one ideas on how to draw out their deaths but only one became possible: the quickest one. The one that’d protect her the best.
He almost bit her. He almost bitmySinclair witch.
Taking the box, I run up to my bedroom to leave it before seeking the mini fridge of fresh blood bags, all stolen from hospitals. Not because I’m moralistic, but because hunting humans isn’t always possible and, given how irritating they are, I don’t keep live ones around.
Except her. But she’s not food.
I grab two. Downing the first one, my skin begins merging back together, the sting lessening into a mere irritation. With the second one, as well as the bag of her clothes, I return to her bedroom, unlocking it without a knock.
She’s settled into a chair but whips around at my entrance. Her heartbeat drives up like a hummingbird’s, though immediately slows when she sees it’s the familiar monster and not another stranger.
“You’re back.”
“Always astute in your observations.” I lower into the second chair, glancing towards the window, where her attention was before my arrival. She likely saw me run into the forest with the deceased vampires.
“You okay?”
“Unfortunately for you, yes. Blood will heal me quicker.” I lift the unopened bag to my mouth and stab a fang into it, sucking the liquid. The metallic taste is a fraction of the faint flavour she gave me the other night, and it’s with that annoying thought I glare.
She eyes the bag before facing the window. “Huh.”
“Huh what?”
“No human trailing behind you. Not what I expected.”
“They’re for breakfast. Blood bags for supper. Easier that way.”
Sinclair crosses one leg over the other until her body is slightly tilted away. Her spine is straight—too straight—and her breathing slows. I don’t know why, but before the lie sits too long and she truly believes my joke, I correct, “Kidding, Sinclair. You should learn to laugh more. It’d do you some good.”
She turns her head, hair brushing over her shoulder. It draws my attention to her neck again, to where she was nearly bitten. “So there are no humans chained up somewhere?”
“You’re the only living being,” I admit. “Humans are too pesky to have around long-term. I don’t oppose feeding from them, but only if I seek them out.”
Her cheeks lose a bit of that blood as they whiten. “Right. What about the one at your party?”
“Hired service. One willing to be discreet enough.” I eye her neck again, wanting to shift her attention to something that isn’t my personal life. “Are you okay?”
Some of the colour returns to her cheeks. “Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. When the door opened, I assumed it was you. Given who you are, I didn’t expect vampires to find me here.”
“It shouldn’t have happened,” I confess, my own apology hovering on the edge of my tongue. Except it’s not needed, therefore not happening. If Sinclair didn’t lose her magick, the cure would function as normal, and we’d have a lineup of customers paying for sips of her blood.
What happened clearly didn’t spark enough to reignite her powers. Which is unfortunate, because it would have been one benefit.
“Their names were Laz and Nikolas, if that helps.”
Neither I recognize, but perhaps Cedric can dig something up. He has a better connection with more of our brethren, considering he’s so often on the move.
“Should I ask why you know their names?”
“They talked a lot before you showed up.”
If they skipped taunting her, I wouldn’t have made it back in time. I swallow my dismay around the blood bag, draining it before discarding it on the floor.
“That’s it then? You’re all healed?”
“Healing. Give me an hour. Without the blood, it may have taken until tomorrow. If they weren’t vampires, it would have been almost instant.”
“Oh. You’re quite open about your kind.”
