Page 75 of The Hive Queen

The flare blinds me as it leaves the gun and streaks toward the man, a streaking star in the darkness.

It slams into the back of his neck and explodes, sending sparks in every direction.

He stumbles, and the buzzing cuts off, his arms loosening their hold on Flint.

Flint crashes to the sidewalk, and Anny latches onto his sleeve, dragging him away an inch at a time.

The man wobbles and begins to fall. I race forward, driving my shoulder into his back to send him in the opposite direction from Flint and Anny.

Chest heaving, I land on top of the man, and the rancid scent of a burst pus sack makes me gag.

I choke down the vomit and check for a pulse, but once again, I find nothing.

Whatever those bee stings do, they usurp the host, turning them into a mindless drone with a single goal of kidnapping men with witchblood.

Flint groans. “Sharpe?”

“I got you.” Rising, I go to help him up and pat Anny’s between the ears. “Good job, girl.”

Flint clutches his head. “What happened?”

Expression grim, I pull out my phone. “Do you want the bad news? Or the worse news?”

Things with the Hive Queen just got a lot worse, and saving Flint cost us our best way of finding her location.

thermos full of love

- Pen -

My phone dings,and I lift it to see another email from my sire.

He responded to my first message within minutes of me sending it, with a list of times and days open in his schedule for us to meet. I feel a little guilty that I have ulterior motives, but having a reason behind our meeting also gives me a cushion for my emotions if things go badly.

The earliest he can clear his schedule is the day after tomorrow, which gives me time to prepare.

“It’s good to see you smiling,” Marc says from his place at the table beside me.

“I never thought a message from Lord Marius would make me happy.” I click open the message and laugh at the list of suggestions for meals we can share.

“Change is good, sometimes.” Marc leans over to see my phone. “Damn. Can I go with you? All of that sounds good.”

I look at him. “Do you want to?”

He hesitates for a moment before he shakes his head. “Not the first time, unless you need me there for emotional support.”

“I think I’ll be okay.” I bite my lip as the truth of that sinks in. Now that I’ve given myself permission to forgive my sire, a weight has been lifted that I didn’t realize I carried for so long. “But next time?”

Marc cups my cheek and rests his forehead against mine. “It’s good to hear you say there will be a next time.”

Warmth fills me at his words. “Well, he could seriously bungle this first meeting.”

“Or he could surprise you.” Marc’s chin lifts, and he kisses my forehead. “There was a time you spoke fondly of your sire. I want that for you again.”

A lump forms in my throat. “Me, too.”

Another ding comes from my phone, and I pull back with a laugh. “What could he be sending now...?”

I trail off as I see Sharpe’s name on the screen, and my bubble of happiness pops at the reminder that, while I may be mending one bridge, there’s another one in threat of breaking.

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