Flesh and Blood

And like a fool, he’d let her affect him. Had he actually said, ‘Would you like me to kiss it and make it better?’ Chalk that up to another moment of his life he’d like to erase. Fool, fool, fool was the best the voices could do, subdued by ingesting so much blood in such a short amount of time.

Her slippered feet halted a yard or so behind him. ‘Well? Talk.’

Without turning around, he could picture her. Arms still crossed, one hip cocked out, that ‘I dare you’ look on her face. He closed his eyes, dropped his chin to his chest, and, so help him, he inhaled.

His muscles tensed to steel wire, his nerves pinging shocks of pleasure and need through him faster than he could register. The desire to maintain his human face vanished in a shiver of angled bones and jagged fangs. He rolled his head to one side, mouth open to let the tangible scent of her slide over his tongue. The ache in his gums mirrored the ache piercing his gut. Holy hell. If she’d deliberately given her blood to Ronan, it might be enough to push Mal over the killing edge. Back to that blind hungry rage that had once owned him. Yessss … There was only so much betrayal one man could take. You’re not a man. You’re a monster.

The soft tap, tap, tap of her fingers drumming on her arm broke through the sharp, white urgency surrounding him. ‘I’m waiting.’

Yes, he was a monster. She would do well to remember it. He spun, knowing how he must look and not giving a damn. ‘I am aware, but considering the circumstances, patience might be a better option.’

Surprisingly, she didn’t say a word. Instead she walked past him, not touching him but close enough to tighten the noose of desire around his throat. If she hadn’t done it deliberately, he’d be shocked. She walked to the chaise, sat, then lifted a glass of juice from the side table. Juice that had barely been touched. Had his arrival interrupted something? Another visitor? One glass didn’t mean she’d been alone. Vampires didn’t ingest human foods, except alcohol.

She held it up to him in a mock salute, then took a long, slow sip. Her throat worked as she swallowed, her eyes never leaving his.

Hades on a cracker. She was torturing him on purpose. And probably enjoying it. Maybe he deserved it. And maybe she deserved a little in return, except he had no idea how to torture a woman who clearly didn’t care if he continued to exist or not. ‘What were you doing at Seven?’

She set the glass down. ‘I could ask you the same question.’

‘I think it was pretty obvious what I was doing there.’

‘I meant besides making a spectacle of yourself.’

Is that what she thought? ‘I don’t owe you an explanation.’

‘No, you don’t.’ She swung her legs over the side of the chaise as if to leave.

‘I’m giving you one anyway. Katsumi promised me Dominic’s help in exchange for winning.’

Her forehead crinkled. ‘His help for what?’

‘For removing this curse.’

The muscles in her jaw tightened. She looked down at her wounded hand. Was she hiding shame or anger?

‘That was certainly a good reason to fight, then. Also a good reason to drink the blood I sent you.’

‘It was good enough for Ronan.’

Her head jerked up. ‘What does that mean?’

He saw no injuries on her that might indicate Ronan had taken her blood by force, which meant she’d either given it to him willingly – something he couldn’t imagine her doing – or she truly didn’t know he’d gotten his hands on it. But how would that have happened? ‘Ronan had your blood in his system when he entered the arena. I didn’t smell it on him until he started to bleed.’ The combination of her blood already ingested and the anticipation of the fight had refocused his senses to the purpose of winning. ‘I tasted his blood to be sure. It was heavily laced with yours.’

The shock in her eyes told the truth. She hadn’t known.

‘How is that possible?’ The heels of her palms came down against the chaise’s frame as she pushed herself up. She flinched, pulled her wounded hand to her chest, then shook it off like it was nothing.

That nothing drove a small, gold dagger into his shriveled heart. He hated that she hurt almost as much as he despised how pathetic she’d made him for caring.

Hands cupped to her stomach like she felt ill, she paced a few steps toward the pool and stood there, facing away from him. Gleaming with that mesmerizing comarré glow. ‘Actually, I know how it was possible.’ Her hair spilled down her back like moonlit silk. ‘Dominic’s driver came by with a letter from Dominic requesting blood. I sent some.’

A hard surge of possessive anger shot down his spine. She had given another vampire her blood. This from the woman who had spouted the tenets of comarré law to him as the reasons for so many of her secrets and actions.

Still overlooking the pool, she continued. ‘He just seemed so needy in his letter and after all he did to help with Maris … ’ She shrugged. ‘It seemed like the right thing to do.’

He struggled to maintain a level of calm, quickly realizing he was not going to maintain it much longer. He clenched his hands until his knuckles popped. ‘What does comarré law say about a comarré giving her blood to a vampire who is not her patron?’

‘That it is not allowed … ’ Her voice faded into the night air and she turned. Her thumb stroked the side of her bandaged hand. ‘Yes, I see what you’re saying. You’re assuming you still own my blood rights, which you very well may. Comarré law doesn’t really cover blood rights reversion in a case where your patron gains your blood rights by stealing them, then gives your blood to a ghost who is actually haunting him, who then turns human again only to die for a second time.’ She stared at him, a small storm brewing in her eyes. ‘Yes, that is rather a gray area. One I’m surprised you’d even care about … Oh, I get it. You’re jealous.’ A false smile lifted the corners of her crimson mouth. ‘Isn’t that touching.’