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‘A year,’ he said, considering.
‘Yes.’
He nodded, shifting back slightly. ‘And how do you intend I should help you, Genevieve?’
‘Information, using your clout with Maxim to get him to talk, and back-up.’ I leaned towards him, baiting the trap, and breathed in his dark spice scent, certain now he would agree. ‘I’m open to all and any ideas so long as it helps find out what’s going on, and puts an end to it, hopefully with none of the good guys being badly injured or dead.’
‘Then it might be advisable not to waste any more time.’ He shot a hand out through the Ward, yanked me into the bedroom, kicked the door shut and slammed me against the wall in the same motion. He buried his face in the curve of my neck and inhaled deeply.
Chapter Forty-One
Heart pounding, I shoved at Malik, surprised when he backed off. ‘How the hell did you break through the Ward?’
He smiled, flashing fang. ‘You used a blood-Ward against a vampire you have freely given your blood to. The Ward holds me in place, but it also stretches with me.’
Which was exactly the warning Ricou had given me when I set the Ward: it was designed for protection, and that meant anyone inside it with a blood co
‘You came too close,’ he said, placing a hand flat against the wall on one side of my head and leaning into me, ‘now, tell me what it is you require from me, Genevieve.’
Constable Taegrin’s voice called through the door. ‘Ge
‘I’m fine, and he’s agreed,’ I shouted, so they’d leave us alone. I narrowed my eyes at Malik. ‘Haven’t you?’
‘I have agreed to continue the game you have started. Notes and letters, or should I say, insubstantial carrots and sticks? If you were truly going to “allow” yourself to be abducted, you would have done so without giving me the opportunity to oppose it.’ He leaned closer, almost close enough to kiss, and breathed his next words against my mouth. ‘What is it you want, Genevieve?’
I put my hand on his chest. His heart wasn’t beating, and oddly, it reminded me of Fi
‘This is what you have deduced from Helen Crane’s note.’ He picked up a strand of my hair, twisting it through his fingers.
‘Well, from that and other things, like Francine’s and Maxim’s memories that the Morrígan showed me,’ I said, trying not to notice the way my scalp tingled.
‘And who do you think is Maxim’s son?’
‘I’m not sure, but I think it might be the manager at the Coffin Club: Gareth Wilson. He’s the right age and colouring …’ I trailed off at the mildly interested look on Malik’s face. My gut twisted in frustration. ‘He’s not, is he?’
‘No.’
Damn. Sometimes a straight answer isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I didn’t bother asking him how he knew; if he had any doubts, he would’ve been more evasive.
‘Who is Maxim’s son, then?’ I asked.
‘I do not know.’
Another frustratingly straight answer. ‘But he does have a son?’
‘It is something I can neither confirm nor deny.’
I sighed. He was holding out on me again. Shame the ordering bit only worked one way. And disappointing as it was that my suspicions about the murderer had been a leap in the wrong direction, it wasn’t necessary information. All I had to do to stop the killer and save Nicky and the other faelings was to put our master plan into action. Simple. Now I just had to convince the aggravating, much-too-beautiful vamp whose elegant fingers were still playing with my hair and still sending tantalising little tremors over my skin, to help me.
‘The police are mounting an undercover operation,’ I told him, and revealed the one pertinent detail of my supposed abduction that I’d omitted first time around: Constable Martin and the Doppelgänger spell.
‘She is a police officer,’ he said indifferently as he ran a hand down the sleeve of my leather jacket. His touch seemed to burn against my bare skin— mesma—and I studiously ignored it. ‘She would not do this unless both she and her superiors felt she were capable,’ he finished.
‘Yeah, I know. But while she’s pretending she’s me, I could make use of the distraction.’ I took a deep breath and mentally crossed my fingers. ‘I want to sneak into the Tower, locate the entrance they’re using, then crackthe magic holding it closed. At which point London’s finest can swarm in and sort it all out.’
He clasped my left wrist, his skin cool against my more heated flesh. My pulse jumped like it was trying to escape my skin. I concentrated on calming it.
‘You still do not tell me what you want of me, Genevieve,’ he murmured, giving me a sleepy look that was as much invitation as i
Bastard was playing with me.Okay, admittedly I’d started it, but if he thought coming on to me was going to make me back down, he could think again.
‘I want you to come with me,’ I said brightly, ‘as back-up.’
His hand round my wrist tightened for a second, then relaxed. His eyes half-closed as he considered me. ‘You wish me to play rescuing hero with you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Despite what you think, I’m not reckless, I don’t want to get injured, and if I go in there on my own, it could be tantamount to suicide. Plus you’re the best vamp for the job. Once I get us inside, you can do your vanishing-into-the-shadows trick and keep us both hidden while I search for the entrance, and at the same time you can keep me safe.’ I smiled expectantly, hoping he’d see it as a done deal. ‘Simple.’
He gave me a lazy smile back, and I caught a glimpse of fang as his thumb rubbed over my pulse, the touch sending shivers through my blood. ‘And what if I do not wish to accompany you?’
Did I go for straight for Plan B, or take the (definitely interesting) hand he was dealing and see how the cards fell? Choices, choices.
I flattened my palms on his chest, pushing him back again, and this time I left them there, relishing the cool silk of his skin against my own venom-heated flesh. ‘Maybe I could persuade you,’ I said, giving it my best seductive voice.
He traced a finger down my throat. My pulse there started up a rapid tattoo, even with the venom hit my day’s ration of blood-fruit had already given me. ‘What had you in mind, Genevieve?’ he murmured.
I swallowed, my mouth dry, recalling the images he’d dropped in my head not ten minutes ago, and looked past him at the bed. ‘You’re the one with the imagination, you tell me.’
He clasped my wrists and lifted them slowly above my head, as if he expected me to protest, and a spiral of anticipation and need twisted inside me. I lifted my chin in silent offering. After all, he was hungry, and with 3V and the blood-fruit turbo-boosting my blood production, I had plenty to spare. He captured my wrists in one hand and pi
I licked my lips, nervous in a good way. ‘And what does this plan involve?’
He traced a tingling line down the lace V of my silk top.
Desire shot through my veins like high-voltage electricity, leaving me quivering.
‘It involves’—his fingers grazed the swell of my left breast—‘staying here.’