Bitten to Death

suggestively. He grinned.

“As if you could,” he whispered. Gad. Guys are guys the world over. Even when they’re nearly dead!

I acknowledged his machismo with a smile. “Not that I’m suggesting anything,” I went on. “I’m sort of spoken for. But it would make me look such the formidable opponent.”

“So you’re not with these vampires?”

“Just visiting,” I confirmed. I felt his shoulders loosen. And before I knew it, his nose, nuzzling into my hair. I stiffened.

“Doesn’t anyone ever touch you?” Trayton asked.

“Uh, no. That is, until just recently.” I thought about it. Felt a surge of frustration. “And still, not much.”

“Relax. It’s not sexual, okay? Think wolf. I can feel your blood working in me. You’re part of me now; you always will be. And I’m yours. So let me learn you.” Irritation in his tone, like I should be old enough to know this by now. As if I was keeping him from something that was his by right.

Okay, well, maybe it was that easy. I tried to lighten up. Then I saw myself, leading this post-adolescent down the hall while he sniffed my neck, up into my scalp. And I couldn’t help it. Suddenly I was imagining a supermodel standing twenty paces downwind, holding a bottle of Head & Shoulders, saying, “Even werewolves can’t tell the difference!” I started to giggle.

“What?”

“It tickles,” I said. He took another deep breath. “Now it feels like you’re blowing loogies into my roots.”

I stopped, mainly because we’d finally reached the right door. But also because he’d laid his chin on my shoulder. “You know what I think?” he asked.

I glanced at him sideways, not quite willing to meet his gaze. “What?”

“You need a comrade.”

“I have friends.”

He shook his head, his hair waving across his face so I could barely see the shine of his eyes. “I’ve been inside your head, remember?”

“Could we not talk about that?”

He rubbed his cheek against my arm. Already his closeness seemed less threatening. “You keep the circle small and give only the affection you think you can bear. But, in doing this, you harm yourself the most.” He nodded, as if deciding. “I can be what you need.”

“I don’t need anything from you. Except for you to heal up so I can get you back to your pack. The worst thing that could happen is for them to declare war on this Trust right now.” I wrenched open the door, scooted him inside, and closed it. As soon as I had him settled in the bed it was like he decided he could stop faking. All the color drained from his face and he admitted to serious nausea. I brought the wastebasket over to the bed in case he couldn’t make it to the bathroom.

“You must find the one who smelled of grapes,” Trayton said. “He trapped me and forced me to turn. He can draw out the silver.”

No problem. I’ll just run around sniffing butts till I figure out which one of these egotistical maniacs smells like—wait a minute! Grapes! I know this one! From the courtyard! Nobody stood out in the crowd. Except Disa, who made me want to gag. And the grape guy—Niall! “I’ll be back!” I said. But Trayton didn’t hear. He’d already fallen asleep.

Chapter Eight

I found Niall back at the site of the Sonrhain, mopping up. Literally.

With Genti and his crew also involved in cleanup, I couldn’t just walk over to where Niall stood in the ring and demand help with the Were. I wandered toward him, noting that the fence had already been rehung and he was transferring blood from the floor to a big blue bucket with the help of a bedraggled long-handled squeegee.

On their side of the room, Koren and Meryl swept up broken glass while Genti and Rastus piled the unmarred dishes into plastic bins. “Came to help out, did you?” Genti asked sharply.

“I kept the bear from taking off your head, didn’t I?” I replied. I turned to Niall. “Sorry to bother you,” I said. “But since Disa and Vayl are tied up with contract talks, they sent a note out that I’m supposed to get you so we can drive to town for champagne to celebrate the new agreement. I’d go alone, but I don’t know the area.”

My only warning that Genti had moved on me was the blur I saw out of the corner of my eye and the breeze that stirred the curls off my shoulders. I whirled, triggering the syringe of holy water.

“Genti Luan, stop!” I yelled. Knowing his name. That’s what saved me. As soon as he heard it he froze, his fangs centimeters from my neck. I’d already plunged the needle into his chest. He looked down. “Holy water,” I told him, my thumb firm on the plunger. I realized I was panting and made myself breathe deeper.

Niall had raised the mop in both hands like a spear. “Enough, Genti,” he said sternly. “We need these people if we are to defeat Samos.”

“Admes might not agree with you.”

“Admes is patrolling, just as the Deyrar ordered him to do. Therefore she is happy with him. But think how she would react if she found you had killed her lead negotiator’s avhar.”

Genti’s puffy lips began to tremble. “Remove the needle,” he snarled.

My thumb hovered. So tempting. I yanked it out. “You’re lucky I love my job. Because that’s all that kept you from floating off into the air ducts just now.” I reseated the syringe and stalked out of the room, assuming Niall would follow. He did.