Page 43 of A Steeping of Blood
That was what made her unscrew the lid.
In an instant, the smell of blood assaulted her—sharp and metallic. Heady and honeyed in a sickly sort of way. It reminded her of what she’d done, and the swaying of the ship beneath her didn’t help.
Jin was watching. Matteo was too, but this wasn’t a moment between him and her. This was Jin’s.
“It’s nowhere close to coconut, is it?” he asked softly.
She made a sound. “Not one bit.”
Heart in her throat, Arthie stared at the bottle, at the liquid insidethat sloshed with a consistency thicker than water, in a color that was rich and jeweled, no different than Spindrift after-hours. In the hushed silence of the crashing waves, Jin’s stomach growled.
He was starving.
With a stuttering inhale, Arthie lifted her bottle to him. “Dulce periculum?”
He lifted his eyes to hers, held them. For longer than a second, for the first time in what felt like a breathless forever.Are you sure?his gaze asked.
She dipped her chin in answer. She had never felt more sure, because the emotions coursing through her veins just then were elation, excitement, hope—because ofhim.
He didn’t ask again. He clinked his bottle against hers and lifted it to his lips, taking a swig just as she did, nostrils flaring as he swallowed.
Feeding when one was turned was one thing, but choosing to drink when a vampire had their wits about them was different. It was a deliberate act. A choice. Jin had just made his.
And Arthie—well, Arthie had done the same. When the first syrupy drop fell upon her tongue, it was as though a switch had flipped within her. She was hungry, starved. It was nectar on her tongue, sweet and wretched, and she downed the bottle within moments, each sip coating her tongue, her throat, searing a line through her insides until the bottle was empty.
Arthie pressed her eyes closed and opened them again and it was as if she could see once more. As if a vibrancy had returned to the world around her, a clarity that had been muffled by her hunger for far too long.
She had fed from Laith in a moment of weakness and passion. She had fed off of Matteo, too, when he turned her.
Despite both of those moments, Arthie counted this as her firstsince she’d sworn off blood as a young girl. When she’d sworn to preserve the remnants of her humanity.
Jin could barely tamp down his smile as he tucked his now-empty bottle away. “I must admit that was good.”
Itwasgood. It was especially good to have shared that moment withhim.
“Well, well, darling,” Matteo said, grinning from ear to ear. “Now that you understand what Spindrift was about, shall we return to avenging it?”
“Spindrift after-hours,” she corrected.
“You served blood after-hours, but you served that”—Matteo stopped and gestured to her—“at all hours. Those emotions, that contentment. Tea, blood, human, vampire, regardless of whether one walked in the shadows or the light, you gave them the sustenance they craved.” His eyes were bright with intent because he understood her hesitance. “Is that not a fundamental part of being human?”
She’d never considered that. She looked away. How had he known her humanity was the reason she’d refused to drink blood?
“Both of you did,” Matteo added, opening the cabin door. “Together. And that’s how we’ll waltz in, grab our people, and waltz out. It’ll be a breeze.”
“That easy, eh?” Jin snarked as they closed the door behind them, sidestepping the narrow passageway lined with cabins. “Like any other job, certainly.”
Yes, Ceylan was another job, nothing more, she reminded herself.But is it?Ceylan was also home.But is it?
She didn’t believe in talking to the dead, in saying farewell to her parents who were now long gone. She didn’t want to scout out her old home and walk through its tiny rooms. Some other family likely livedin it now. Life carried on, even if it came to a halt for some. And even if she wanted to do both of those things, there wasn’t time. They had a job and a time limit.
Nor did Arthie have anyone left. Her deepest connection to the island was the tea the Ettenians had planted in scores.
She had spent the last ten years in White Roaring ever aware of how she stood out and couldn’t fit in, but not once had she considered that every day she spent assimilating into Ettenia was a day she spent whittling away at the ties that tethered her to Ceylan.
She belonged nowhere, and it was a very lonely place to be.
They fell quiet when the narrow passageway opened to a larger hall-like space. It was dimly lit, the central portion wide and empty. She was surprised by how clear her vision was, how muchmoreshe could comprehend. The space smelled sterile, metallic.
