Author: Kalayna Price

“Is this where I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” I asked, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“No. This is where you assure me you will not speak or draw any attention to yourself. And when I present you, you will concentrate your damnedest on what happened on that couch and not think about all that other fascinating stuff in your head.”

“No one’s biting me.”

His hand flashed into movement, but I knew that was coming. I jumped aside, out of reach. Dropping into a crouch, I dared a glance at his face. “If you’re so worried about my blood level, maybe you should stop grabbing me so I don’t waste blood healing.”

Nathanial sucked in a breath—probably at my words. I had promised him I’d watch my tongue. But Tatius pushed my buttons. What could I say? I’d always had issues with authority.

Tatius stepped forward, and I scuttled back until my butt hit the couch. Crap. I flowed to my feet.

“Don’t move,” Tatius said, but the words were a whisper.

I glanced at Nathanial. His mask had cracked, his eyes creased at the edges and his mouth slightly open as his gaze raked over my face. I faltered, only a single heartbeat, but it gave Tatius time to close the space between us. He bent low as his hand moved to my face, but he didn’t grab me.

Instead, he used one finger under my chin to tilt my head back.

“You bruised.”

I gaped at him. “What the hell did you expect? You held me up by my face.”

He shook his head, but it was Nathanial who spoke, his voice further away than his body. “Vampires do not bruise. Our blood heals us. Bruising is a sign of severe starvation.”

“This is your fault, Hermit,” Tatius growled. His angry gaze moved to Nathanial. “You haven’t been feeding her.”

“Didn’t we just establish that I’ve been hunting?” I muttered at the ceiling, where Tatius’s finger still pointed my face.

Tatius’s finger traced my chin down to the center of my throat, and I fought the urge to swallow. He studied my face, examining the bruises he’d made but was blaming on Nathanial. As his eyes swept over me, they lost most of their more frightening—and homicidal—gleam. His mouth didn’t so much soften as change from a pissed line to a determined one. His hand slid around my throat. My heart, which had been lodged there, trying to choke me, abandoned that plan.

Instead it zoomed downward, intending to take my stomach out as it clawed free of my body. I braced for pain, but Tatius’s hand slid along my skin until his warm palm cupped the back of my neck.

The gentleness of the gesture was so unexpected, my breath rushed out of me. A breath I’d apparently been holding long enough that it tasted of stale fear.

Tatius didn’t notice. He was looking at Nathanial again.

“When was the last time you opened a vein for her?”

Nathanial’s gaze crawled to me, and then skittered away.

His mask was truly broken now, panic clearly chiseled on his features. “She has had some difficulties adjusting and—”

Tatius cut him off. “When.”

“Five nights ago.”

Tatius’s fingers twitched. “Are you trying to kill her?” His voice was quiet again, that low, calm before the storm quiet.

He looked down at me, and I could almost feel the scales in his gaze—the weight of the decision in his eyes made me want to back up, but I couldn’t. His hand on my neck, however gentle, held me in place. “I let you keep her,” he whispered. “You flaunt my laws, Hermit, yet I still granted you your companion. Then you let her starve.”

His hand loosened and his fingers drew circles on the back of my neck. A shiver I couldn’t suppress ran down my spine, and Tatius smiled. Leaning down, he grazed his teeth across my throat. His fangs weren’t out, so flat human teeth lightly nipped at my flesh. I stumbled back as a shiver that was only mostly fear shook me.

“You smell like blood.” He pulled me forward two steps for the one I’d taken away, then he turned to glare at Nathanial again. “Did you bring her to me hurt as well as starving?”

“No.” Nathanial’s eyes were wide as they swung to me.

“Kita?”

Oh, crap. “It’s nothing. A scratch.” I closed my coat tighter around me, but Tatius swept it open again, pushing the faded gray material off my shoulders.

He hooked his fingers under the collar of my sweater and pulled it aside. Both men stared as he revealed the rabbit’s jagged claw marks crossing my collar bone. I could see just the base of the cuts. They weren’t bad. They’d heal by morning. I’d certainly had worse.

Tatius frowned.

Nathanial stepped between my back and the couch. His hands landed on my shoulders, but his touch was tentative, like an alighting bird ready to take flight. “I will rectify both situations. Please. Let me fix her.”

I swallowed. The scratch wasn’t anything, really, but I didn’t like the way he said fix—like maybe Tatius thought I was broken. I glanced down and caught sight of the long dagger Tatius kept strapped to his thigh. I wasn’t unfixable. I leaned into Nathanial, and his hands became surer weights on my shoulders, his fingers wrapping around my upper arms. If I had known earlier that all this would occur, I would have just taken his blood on the porch. Really, I would have at least considered it. Dammit.

I opened my mouth to apologize, then snapped it closed again. Now wasn’t the time. Instead I said to Tatius, “I thought you were just going on about how I needed human blood.”

His frown deepened. “You could gorge yourself on all the humans you could possibly swallow and it wouldn’t do you any good because you couldn’t convert the blood to energy. You need a base of master vampire blood in your body to do that, and a baby body like yours doesn’t produce it. You have to be fed by a master to survive.”

“I will fix her,” Nathanial said again, pulling me tighter against him.

Tatius watched us, but finally he shook his head. “No.”

No. Two little letters. One earth-shattering word.

Behind me, Nathanial’s body went rigid, his fingers digging in hard enough to raise bruises on my arms. “Tatius…”

“I said no. You had your chance. Leave.”

Chapter Six

“Leave, Hermit,” Tatius commanded again.

One by one the fingers on my arms lifted. Nathanial stepped back. The withdrawal of his body in the space behind me created a chilled abyss. In his absence, panic curled into the newly opened chasm.

He’s not really leaving. Is he?

My pulse rushed in my ears. I wanted to turn, to find Nathanial, but Tatius’s hand on my neck kept me still. I twisted in Tatius’s grip, my fists clenching at my sides. My eyes slid to the dagger at his thigh again. He’d said if I hit him again he’d hit back, but if he was planning to kill me anyway…?

I cocked my arm back. Prepared my punch.

Fingers slid over my fist and Nathanial stepped into my range of sight.

“Be calm, Kitten.” The whispered words were gentle, but his grip was tight and the set of his shoulders defensive.

Tatius cocked a blue eyebrow at Nathanial. “I told you to leave.”

He didn’t. Nathanial brushed his lips over my still clenched fist. Then he sank onto the couch, not leaving.

“So be it,” Tatius said and then he lifted his wrist and bit deep. He held out the wrist for me. “Drink.”

I didn’t want to. I was sure I didn’t want to. But when Tatius tugged me forward, closer to his body and his bleeding wrist, I found my mouth closing over those small punctures.

“Do not bite me,” Tatius whispered into my hair.

He told me that last time he forced blood on me too.

I drank hungrily. When the pulse of his blood slowed, I pulled back. The sweet, coppery taste tainted my senses, filled my body with new warmth. My tongue darted between my lips, searching for lost drops, and Tatius’s fingers flexed on my neck.

“Drink more,” he commanded again, lifting his wrist.

My gaze fell to the mostly healed wounds. He cursed and ripped his skin open, wider this time. It looked like it hurt, but he simply shoved the once again bleeding wrist in my face.

Without using my fangs, my saliva, or maybe Tatius’s ancient body healed his wound quickly. He ripped open his wrist time and again. I hoped it hurt. Nathanial sat ramrod straight on the couch, his eyes locked on us, his expression frayed around the edges.

A knock sounded, and my head shot up as the door opened.

“Not exactly perfect timing,” Tatius said, but he smiled at the two women in the doorway.

The first woman bowed to him before backing out of the room. The other, dressed as—a whore, perhaps?—strolled forward. Tatius’s blood was already warming my limbs, so I wasn’t starving by a long shot, but with the taste of blood still on my lips, I was hyper aware of all the pale skin her skimpy outfit displayed. She was human. I could tell by the way she moved, the pounding of her heart, or maybe just by the fact she registered as food.

Crap. I dropped my gaze to the thick carpet, trying to concentrate on a scorch mark where one of the candelabras must have fallen. I was looking up again before I realized it.

Tatius stepped around me to greet the woman. “Tiffany, thank you for joining us.” He dipped at the waist and kissed her hand. She giggled like a school girl, blood rushing to fill her cheeks as she blushed.

I ripped my eyes away. What’s wrong with me? I’d been around more humans earlier in the night and hadn’t experienced this many issues. Then again, I hadn’t had the taste of blood to wake my hunger.

Tatius slid an arm around her waist and steered her toward me. “This is Kita. She’s new and having a little trouble.”

Her gaze swept over me. The playfulness fled from her face. I pinpointed the second she decided I was competition—for what, I wasn’t sure. She cocked her hip and stared down her nose at me. It was obvious: she didn’t like me. Then Tatius leaned in and stage whispered, “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind giving her a small donation,” and her whole demeanor changed.