The Sweet Scent of Blood

Snippets of the old myths hijacked my mind and dread cramped my stomach. If the old legends about vampires as ravenous monsters were true, what if one bite really was all it took to become one of them? Pizza Face and Fatboy had bitten me more than once ... my hand shook and sloshed my water over the floor—maybe I did have something to panic about after all.

Malik stood over me, an odd closed expression on his face. He held a bowl in his hands.

‘They both bit me.’ I dropped the glass and grabbed his ankle. ‘What’s that going to do to me?’

His expression didn’t change and I held my breath. Was that why he was here? To stop me changing? To rip my head off like he had Fatboy’s?

‘Nothing,’ he said at last. ‘Their bite is to feed only.’

Sucker bites. I blew out a shaky sigh and let him go. The bites were only sucker bites.

Crouching, he placed the bowl down beside me. ‘It appears you have become more of a threat than an opportunity.’

I scowled at him. ‘Yeah, I sort of got that, seeing as someone sent revenants to kill me.’

He gave me a considering look. He really was beautiful, all lean muscle and pale skin and dark hair, his features just the right side of almost too pretty. And as he mopped up the spilled water and wrung out the cloth into the bowl, twisting it tight between his fingers, even that simple movement seemed more than it was. My pulse hitched and he stilled, tension shimmering through him, then the moment was gone and he wiped the floor again.

Questions started to edge out infatuation in my mind. Who knew I was meeting Alan Hinkley? Everyone, apparently—but who knew the actual details apart from Alan and me? My head was beginning to ache, and not just because of my injuries. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to banish it. So it had to be someone Alan had told after he’d texted me. And my phone was lost somewhere at the Blue Heart—anyone could’ve checked out my messages. As I slumped against the wall, pain jabbed my shoulder again.

I clutched at the throw and held myself still, willing it away. ‘So who can do the ritual?’

A wing of damp hair fell over Malik’s forehead. ‘Here in London? At least eight, maybe nine.’ He brushed the hair away, held my look. ‘Including myself.’

I licked my lips. He hadn’t even had to think about the question. What was he doing here when he was obviously capable of figuring this out all on his own?

I narrowed my eyes. ‘Are you always this domesticated?’

He looked at me, black eyes intent.

Heat bloomed inside me, sending nervous spirals twisting through my belly. ‘Because it doesn’t strike me as being a normal vampire trait,’ I said. ‘So just exactly why are you here, Malik? What do you want from me?’

He took the bowl back to the sink and washed his hands, then came and stood looking down at me. ‘Why did you take me to the Embankment Gardens and not to Old Scotland Yard?’

I frowned, confused. ‘Because that’s where Alan Hinkley wanted to meet me. I told you that.’

‘And yet Alan Hinkley was not there.’ His voice was soft. ‘Instead, it was an ambush, one that was very nearly successful. ’

‘Obviously someone used either Hinkley or the information to set me up.’

‘No.’ He sank gracefully back into a crouch, his forearms resting on his thighs. ‘I do not think the attack was aimed at you.’

I snorted. ‘You could’ve fooled me.’

He leaned forward, and my heart thudded with fear. I wanted to shrink from him, but my back was already against the wall and I had nowhere to go to.

‘Or did you deceive me, Genevieve?’

‘What?’ I stared at him in surprise.

His hand flashed out and he gripped my chin. ‘The spell that stopped me from entering the gardens stunned me, but it did not stop you.’

I jerked out of his hold. ‘Something triggered the spell after I’d gone through the gate and it stopped me getting out.’

‘Did it?’

‘You know it did,’ I spat.

‘The spell was powerful enough to knock me unconscious for a few minutes.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And that was long enough for someone to take a kerbstone to my head.’

So that explained the caved-in skull, but not what else he was getting at.

‘Whoever hit me was fae,’ he added, his tone accusing.

Okaaay, so that’s what—

‘Well, don’t look at me,’ I snapped, ‘I had my own problems, if you remember.’

‘Had your scent not engulfed me, I would have known they were there.’ He ran a fingertip over my injured shoulder. ‘Was I supposed to come into the park with you?’ His touch skimmed down my damaged arm. ‘Would you have stood back while they attacked me? Would you have watched, and applauded? Was that why they had to improvise?’

‘Ri-ight, just because a fae tries to reshape your thick head, you think I’ve set you up!’ I snorted. ‘Well, if we’re talking stupid ideas, what about the revenants? You just said they could only be made by a vampire, so maybe you made them. ’Cause there’s no way I’ve got anything to do with any vampire.’

‘But you do have something to do with a vampire, do you not, Genevieve?’ His hand circled my left wrist, turned my palm up.

Pain raced up my arm like wildfire and I screamed before I could stop myself. He touched a finger to my palm and the agony was gone, snuffed out like a light.

‘See how your body responds to me.’ His voice held sorrow.

Another touch, and the pain burnt through my shoulder again—only I couldn’t scream; he wouldn’t let me. All I could do was stare at him wide-eyed, my heart pounding under my ribs.

Then the pain was gone again and I sagged in relief.

‘You will not struggle.’ The words were an order. ‘Else I will be forced to return the pain. Do you understand?’

‘I get that you’re into torture,’ I ground out.

‘No, I am not.’ He gave a resigned sigh. ‘But I am also not squeamish.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘Maybe later.’ Mocking amusement lit his face. ‘But first, we will settle this matter between us?’ He made it a question.

Like I had any choice ... I nodded.

‘Last night, outside the police station.’ Malik stroked my palm. ‘I was surprised at how easy it was to enter your mind and influence your body with my thoughts. Why, I wondered, was that?’ He glanced down at my open hand. ‘You even offered me your blood, almost without demur. It was unexpected, especially for a sidhe.’ Blood blossomed, four bright half-moons across my palm.

The sight was just as terrifying as it had been the first time.

But even more terrifying was the lack of those hazy feelings; I didn’t feel that desperate need to give Malik whatever he wanted, and I realised just how much he had been playing with my mind, right from the first.

Now he was playing with my body, leaving my mind my own.

He stretched out my arm, brought my hand to his mouth, and I knew it should hurt; I could almost hear the bones grating against each other where they were broken. But I could feel nothing other than his cool breath over my skin, his tongue warm on my palm.

I stared, unable to deny the fluttering in my belly, cursing myself that I could still want him.

‘But your blood has already told me who your Master is.’ He sank his fangs into the mound at the base of my thumb, and a shudder rippled through his body.

The sharp sting spiked low inside me, making me gasp with pleasure.

‘The taste of you was of her,’ his voice whispered through my mind. ‘Only I would not believe it.’

‘I have no Master,’ I hissed through clenched teeth.