Page 35 of A Steeping of Blood
He glanced at her buoyant curls falling over her face as she looked through her own bag, still wishing they weren’t leaving her behind.Why?he asked himself. What was it about Felicity Linden that made her different from the long line of girls he’d kissed and left in the past? Whatwasn’tit was the real question—to him, she was everything every other girl was not. What did every other girl in the world need to do to hold a candle to Felicity Linden, was what he should have asked.
She turned to him and, finding him watching, shied away from whatever she’d been about to say. He saw it in her sweet smile.
“You can still join us,” Jin said. “Come now, Felicity. A holiday courtesy of Arthie Casimir herself.”
She laughed at that, and his ears rejoiced at the sound, a rush of warmth coursing through him that was not unlike when he drank blood for the first time, nourishing every part of him.
“I have a little something for you,” he said. “Because I noticed you’re not carrying your lighter anymore.”
She stiffened. “I gave it back to the person who gave it to me.”
Ah. Her mother, then.
“That could not have been easy,” Jin said softly.
Flick gave him a little shrug, clearing out a decorative dish and pouring water into it for Opal. Out in the hall, he heard Chester scolding Felix, and Reni placating them both.
Jin held out his hand with the small gift nestled in his palm. “Brass knuckles. Not nearly the same as a lighter, but it’s small and brass and may potentially save your life.”
“Oh? How would it do that?” she asked, and he realized she’d neverseen them before. She was still new to the streets. To crime and grime, and the tools they used on the other side of White Roaring.
Before he could think anything of it, he took her hand in his, and every nerve ending in his body stood on end atherreaction. Not because she gasped or froze, but because of her pulse, pitter-pattering like the rain outside.
She met his eyes in a flare of uncertainty. He started to pull away, but her fingers tightened ever so slightly, gripping him in place.
There was that boldness Felicity Linden only rarely portrayed. And it made Jin bold in turn. With a swallow, he lifted her hand higher, higher, holding her gaze until her hand was in line with his mouth. Ever so slowly, he brushed his lips against her skin, pressing a kiss between her thumb and forefinger.
And then he made the mistake of inhaling. He didn’t smell the sweet sunshine of her skin anymore; he smelled her blood. It danced beneath her skin, a scent as earthy as tea, as delectable as the drizzle of icing on every pastry he could no longer eat.
A strangled sound escaped her throat and Jin realized his eyes had fallen closed. When his eyelids fluttered open, it was to see her own fighting to stay open.
“Jin,” she whispered, both a whine and a plea in her voice.
“Yes, love?” he whispered back, before a single question rose louder than his thoughts: What would her blood taste like?
He lowered her hand with a clench of his jaw. Confusion flashed over Flick’s features, but she said nothing. If he’d pulled her close and lowered his fangs to her neck, would she let him? Would she turn him away with the same disgust high society gave vampires?
He was too cowardly to find out.
“H-how does it work, then?” she asked, a little too loudly and with very little subtlety. “This weapon you mentioned.”
Jin almost laughed.
“You take it like this,” he said, and carefully splayed her fingers by sliding his between them. How did such a thing feel so indecent? Her breath hitched before he carefully dragged the weapon snug over her knuckles. “Fits well, doesn’t it?”
Flick swallowed. Her gaze darkened, and Jin knew she was not thinking of the fit of the brass dusters.
“What are you thinking?”
“That—that they’re not exactly comfortable,” Flick said, flexing her fingers against the brass.
Liar. Jin gave her a pointed look but couldn’t torture the poor girl any longer.
“Nor will a fight be,” he said, closing her fingers around them and resisting the urge to kiss her soft skin. “These are unassuming and easier to hurt someone without hurting yourself, because no one really talks about how much a punch hurts both parties. Leave them in your pocket, and you’ll always have a weapon handy.”
He paused then, wanting to ask her if he could show her how to use it. Did she want that? Did she want to stand this close to him? Since when was Jin so unsure of himself?
“Once we go through the ledger, can you show me how?” she asked hesitantly.
