Page 66 of Live To Tell

The closer I get to him, the stronger his blood scent.

My eyes drop to the lawns I’m crossing, but there’s no blood trail. Yet I’m unconsciously following blood from somewhere. On Grayson? Fear for him surges and floods my whole body, and the desire to catch him becomes a painful aching in my chest. When I round the corner, I finally know why I’ve felt this all evening.

Grayson smacks a shoulder against the rear exit door, swearing, and a wave of pain washes towards me. The dim from a nearby security light reveals how disheveled he is, hair falling around his face and blood on his hands. Panic rising, I cross to Grayson and slam my boot into the door to help.

Grayson stumbles, steadying himself on the frame as he mutters again, revealing skinned knuckles, and the face he turns my way is streaked with blood.

“Where did you come from?” he mutters.

“You didn’t sense me?”

Grayson touches his temples. “I hurt my head. Not too focused right now.”

He plunges through the door, and I follow, my nausea and disgust growing with each second.

This must be Josef’s work.

“Shut the door,” he says through gritted teeth and stumbles onwards.

I do as Grayson says and follow. He supports himself on the wall and moves into a different part of the modern building. I did enter the sports hall once at the human school and this place shares the same unpleasant odors of stale perspiration and pine-scented cleaning products.

“What’s happening, Grayson?” I ask, easily catching up to him.

He manages to break through another door and lurches into a room with a row of metal lockers, where he sinks onto a bench opposite, beside some sports clothing items discarded by students.

“I’m taking time out before I go back to the academy,” he says and examines his lacerated knuckles.

I hate that I do this, and hope Grayson doesn’t notice, but I subtly sniff. I’m desensitized to human and witch blood, but can still detect the smell.

“Ha! You think I’ve attacked someone.” Grayson pulls at his T-shirt and drags it over his head before throwing the item at me. “Take a closer look.”

I catch the soft, warm material in surprise. The only blood soaking this item smells like his, and I swallow hard. His blood. But this time I’m different—this time the hemia isn’t rising inside me. I toss the T-shirt back to Grayson, avoiding looking at the streaks on his chest.

Or how unusually perfect his muscles are.

“I won’t attack you,” I say.

“Likewise.” Grayson sinks back, head against the breezeblock wall, hand trembling as he untangles hair with his fingers.

“Have you lost a lot of blood?”

“Not as much as last time.” His eyes fix on mine.

Last time. The warehouse. “Josef?” I ask, voice hushed unnecessarily.

“Yeah. He found me.” Grayson swipes a hand across his forehead. “Along with his lovely friends.”

“I did tell you that your nighttime excursions were unwise. Now look what’s occurred.”

“No sympathy? How surprising,” he says in derision. “So what if I refuse to live my life in fear of him? My choice.”

“I mean that in a concerned way, Grayson,” I retort. “Did Josef follow? Is he here?” I ask and spin around. I never sensed anybody, but Josef’s an original hemia vamp and they have sneaking silently down to an art form.

Josef will regret the decision if he has followed—if I manage not to maim him, I’ll take the bastard to my father.

“Nah. Josef wouldn’t dare come onto the academy grounds. Dorian’s watching the place, you know that.” He jerks his chin. “Which is why I’m not walking into the building covered in blood.”

“Where did Josef find you?”

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