Page 91 of Entombed By Blood
Not that I need to ask. Silas’s pranks have evolved over the decades, and I’ve been on the receiving end of enough of them to realise this is just another aspect of his latest trick. I imagine he’s laughing his furry head off at the idea of Evie walking in and getting an eyeful of shrink-wrapped, naked vampire.
She can’t reply. She’s too busy snort-laughing. Her whole frame quakes with it, and I’m forced to take the mug from her before she spills the blood. A careful sniff reveals that it’s a synth mix, and I immediately place it on the dresser. No way am I going to fall for a second of Silas’s tricks in the same night.
No, if I have anyone for breakfast, it’s going to be the tasty, giggling morsel in front of me.
“Doll, are you particularly attached to your beta?” I ask, eyes narrowing as I watch her reaction.
“You can’t seriously mean to kill him,” she chokes off. “Over something like this?”
I shake my head. “Of course I wouldn’t kill him. But a good maiming is definitely in order.”
She just laughs harder.
If it were anyone else, I’d be killing mad. With Evie I just feel… amusement. Another of those soft, strange emotions I’m relearning in her presence. She may have the bearing of a lady, but she has the most unladylike laugh I’ve ever heard. Tiny snorts and hiccups make her whole body tremble. It’s a rather remarkable flaw for someone who normally holds themselves with so much poise.
Why haven’t I ever heard her laugh like this before? Unacceptable.
I fold my arms over my chest and wait for her to finish. I’m still completely naked, but I’m not going to give Silas the satisfaction of running for my clothes when the pink staining Evie’s cheeks and the slightly glazed look in her eyes tell me she’s enjoying the view.
“I’m sorry,” she says, biting her lips to try and contain her smile. “I… I thought I was just delivering breakfast.”
“Well, you certainly did that,” I murmur, unfolding my arms and beckoning her with one finger. “Come here, doll.”
There’s much sweeter blood running through her veins, and—if she’ll let me—I intend to feast on her for the rest of our immortal lives.
My fangs have dropped, making my meaning clear, but she doesn’t obey my command. Her eyes flick to the blood on the dresser.
“If Silas hasn’t laced that blood with hallucinogens, then I don’t know him at all,” I grumble, taking a slow step forward. If she won’t come to me, I’ll go to her. “He thinks it’s hilarious to watch me stumble around trying to figure out why the walls are moving.”
She gives me another little half-smile but steps back, out of reach. “There’s more blood in the fridge.”
With that, she turns on her heel and strides away from me.
I grin, because if I didn’t know better, I’d say our girl is thinking about running again.
Doesn’t she know I love the chase?
Evelyn
The lycans have been gone since before sunset, and the cabin feels empty without them. Frost is holed up in the tiny office, using Finn’s robots to try and infiltrate the Lycan Compound. And Draven… My mind goes blank at the memory of him standing there, completely naked, with his arms crossed, daring me to say something.
For a second there, I almost gave in to temptation. I almost bared my neck and said to hell with the consequences.
I came so close.
Now I’m trapped in this cabin with him until sunrise. Silas was very insistent on me locking the doors and windows for someone who’s been trying to convince me that lycans aren’t all feral on the full moon, and it’s set my teeth on edge.
At least there’s no chance my sire will find us here. He’d think my thralls are insane for choosing to hide among a lycan pack at this time.Ithink my thralls are insane.
I have nothing to do, so I fold my legs up underneath me on the soft couch and flick on the television like Silas taught me.
Only to come face to face with my sire.
My mind knows he’s not really there, but my body reacts instinctively. My back straightens, my legs flick down until they’re demurely tucked behind one another, and I tuck my bangs out of my face. Part of me is even searching for the damned dress while my gut clenches in fear.
It takes several deep breaths—fighting my petrified lungs for each one—before I can convince myself he’s not really here. Even on the screen, his aura seems to travel as he stands behind a tall podium, staring down the room filled with reporters.
He’s addressing them, I realise. For whatever reason, my sire is allowing these people to question him and showing it to the masses.
